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Amanai Riko is fourteen years old when Misato has to let her go forever.
Riko isn't a particularly difficult child, all things considered. She's headstrong and smart and cheerful, just like any other fourteen-year-old. But she's also wise and mature for her age. Not that any of her schoolmates would know that.
Misato was assigned to the Amanai household just six months before Riko's parents died. Riko was torn apart because of it. Minato watched her cry herself to sleep every night and cling to Misato's skirts during the day because she couldn't stand to be alone.
Part of Misato wonders if it would've been better to send Riko to Jujutsu Tech. But she wasn't even old enough for it. Her normal school did fine; she found friends and distractions and she started to slowly get over her parents' deaths, until one day, she simply didn't feel anything about the people involved anymore.
Misato wasn't sure how to feel about that. Sure, it's her job to take care of the Star Plasma Vessel, but Riko is a just a child; she needs more than just—someone to fulfill her physical needs.
Would it have been easier, if Misato were a better sorcerer? If her powers weren't so weak that she barely qualified as a fourth-grade, so weak that she'd resigned to her life as a servant to big sorcerer families? Would it have been enough to protect Riko from the painful fate that awaits her?
She's so startlingly mature about it, and it astonishes Misato every time. Even as a young child, Misato had attributed her carefree attitude about merging with Tengen as simple ignorance, but with every year that passes and the more she learns about what it means to merge with Tengen, she's led to believe otherwise
Kids shouldn't resign themselves to such a fate. Misato has seen classmates of her own die in her time. They all thought they were prepared for death, until death came to them in the form of curses they couldn't handle.
But again, Misato is just a maid, she shouldn't have so much say over what her ward does. She's a parental figure only out of necessity. She loves Riko so much, no matter how many tantrums she throws and how stubborn she is. But that doesn't mean—
"Riko-sama's parents passed away when she was very young," she tells the two young teenagers from the school haltingly. Refusing to be ashamed of the sorrow in her voice but feeling as if she's overstepping anyway. "Ever since then, I've been taking care of her."
The one with dark hair, the one she'd playfully called Bangs Guy—the Curse Manipulation user—smiles at her, soft and kind. "Then, you're her family."
Misato's sure she looks like she's about to cry, and she's so relieved that she doesn't even has room to be embarrassed of it. Riko is all she has left in this world. She's going to lose the purpose of her life in just three days. She'll be so alone, soon.
"Kuroi," Riko says to her that night, as they sit together against the wall on a bed, in the safe house the school arranged for, "what do you think life will be like for you when I merge with Tengen-sama?"
Misato blinks. She hadn't expected anyone, much less Riko, to ask that of her.
"I don't know," she sighs after a moment of silence, carding her hand through Riko's hair, let loose from its unruly braid. "I suppose it'll feel very empty when you're not here anymore."
Riko is silent for a moment, gaze wandering over to where the boys are in the only other bed together. Gojo hadn't said much more than wiggle his eyebrows at Geto, which had made Riko snort, and the said boy just shoved Gojo aside by the face, somehow bypassing the Infinity he'd told them about. Misato doesn't think it's her place to ask him about it.
Gojo meets Riko's gaze, more a sixth sense than any use of cursed technique, Misato suspects. Or concludes. She doesn't know much about the Gojo clan's inherent jujutsu. He lifts a brow. "Can't sleep, Amanai?"
"It has been a hectic day," Misato laughs, running her hand through Riko's hair again. Still burning in shame over her kidnapping but none of them bring it up. Truthfully, it doesn't really seem like any of them care.
Still. It's her duty to protect Riko. She shouldn't have been so careless.
Gojo hums absently, gaze faraway as he runs his hand similarly through a sleeping Geto's hair. His head rests beside Gojo's thigh. It reminds Misato of the days when she'd feel safe enough to rest beside someone else who wasn't Riko.
Riko turns to her again. "You have to promise me to take care of yourself when I'm gone," she says matter-of-factly. Misato's throat dries up. "I know it'll be lonely without me but you've got to live for yourself. Isn't that what you told me when my parents died?"
Misato drops her gaze, taking Riko's hand in her own. She's so small. Plenty big for her age, but she's just a child. A child Misato will watch over until the end.
"I didn't think you remembered that."
"I remember all the important things you tell me."
Somehow, that hurts more than it should. Their quest right now is to give Riko one last day of normalcy but all Misato wants to do is take her back to the estate and never look back. Never mind that she'll be executed in an instant by the higher ups.
"Kuroi," Riko says again. "You're the best person I know, you know that? I'd never have been so happy if it weren't for you. I was so scared when they said they had you."
Misato's gaze flicks back to the young sorcerers. Gojo isn't paying attention, typing on his phone one-handedly. She looks back at Riko. "It isn't your job to worry for me," she says gently.
Riko frowns. "Nonsense. You're all I have. Of course I'd worry for you."
That—well. It's not that Misato thinks Riko is ungrateful; of course not. It's more that. Shouldn't Riko be more worried for herself? It's tearing Misato apart to think of the fate that awaits her beloved child, yet the child in question seems so unafraid.
"I'll be fine, Ojou-sama," Misato says finally. "I've been prepared for this for years."
Riko lays her head on her shoulder, and neither say any more about the topic.
Okinawa is the happiest Misato has ever seen Riko.
She shrieks with delight as Gojo chases her around in the shallows, becoming completely and utterly soaked in the salt water. Her hair flies around as she tries desperately to keep the sea cucumber away from her.
Gojo himself doesn't seem to care that his expensive clothes are soaked through. Geto winces when the boy flops onto a beach chair and there's the outline of dense fabric visible beneath the shirt.
"Satoru," he gestures to his chest area, "your..."
Gojo jolts up and snatches the towel Geto hands him, draping it over his chest. Misato wisely decides not to say a word about it, and Riko doesn't seem to have noticed, too busy admiring the starfish that had gotten caught on her hat.
Misato considers the two boys. So far, they've been nothing but kind (Geto) and accommodating (also Geto. Mostly, Gojo seems fine to do as Geto says and keep them all out of harm's way, which is good enough in her books). Riko seems to have gotten attached to them, too, if the way she shows the starfish to Geto with shining eyes is anything to go by.
"If we're leaving tomorrow, then where to next?" Misato asks of them, fixing the towel around Riko's shoulders.
"That's up to Riko-chan," Geto says. Riko beams. "So, where to, ojou-sama?"
And that's the start of an absolutely packed day. Riko has no shortage of ideas once she gets her hands on a pamphlet made for tourists and Misato, like the other two, is utterly helpless to her whims. None of them can work up to courage to deny her anything she asks.
Isn't it worth it, to give her the best last day they can? Misato would give anything to make sure her ward is safe and happy.
She'd known she would end up getting too attached the day she was assigned to the Amanai household and given strict warnings and threats as to what would happen if she ever did anything to endanger the Star Plasma Vessel. She'd known the moment a five-year-old Riko had clung to Misato's skirts with the brightest smile she'd ever seen and asked, <span;>do you want to play dolls with me?
Gojo mostly sticks close to Riko while Misato stays with Geto, a safer option considering Riko is mostly helpless, never having gotten the chance to work on her cursed technique or even manage her CE, really. Jujutsu theory is familiar to her only in just that—theory. On the other hand, Misato can at least serve as backup for Geto.
"Besides," Geto says with a mischievous glitter in his eyes, "Satoru's gotten invested in keeping her safe now."
At one point, Riko bounds back to grab Misato by the hand and drag her with her, showing her all the little things that catches her eye. The boys hang back, then, when Misato glances at them over her shoulder.
Here's the thing. There's something uniquely agonizing about dedicating your life to keeping someone safe even when you know in the end, you'll lose your grasp on them forever. Misato has never married or had children, but she supposes thar Riko is the closest thing she has to a daughter, and as a parent? Who would wish to watch something like this unfold?
Then again, who would even dare to interfere in something like this?
She gets her answer in the aquarium.
Riko looks like the child she is more than ever in the soft blue lighting. Her eyes track the movements of the fish in wonder, widening as she catches sight of the jellyfish tank. She steps forward, placing her hand on the glass.
"Incredible," she whispers. Gojo snorts and tells her jellyfish are nothing special, and Riko retorts that his attitude is why he doesn't get girls.
But then a pinkish looking jellyfish floats by and even Gojo looks fascinated by it. Misato smiles, watching the sight.
"It's a shame we can't do anything for her in the end," she says quietly, trusting that Geto would understand.
"It is all up to Riko-chan, as I said," Geto responds. Misato blinks, looking up at him. He chuckles. "If Riko-chan decides she doesn't want to merge, then that's that. Satoru and I already talked about it. We'll protect her if it comes down to it. After all, we're the strongest."
Misato's mouth parts and it takes a while for her to find her words. "But Tengen-sama—"
"It's a certain kind of evil to kill a child's spirit when they don't want to die," Geto says, shrugging. "We've made up our mind. We'll protect you too, Kuroi-san."
Misato looks at the ground, blinking back tears. She'd be executed in an instant for the relief she feels. For the hope that Riko decides not to merge.
"Go to her," Geto tilts his head in Riko's direction. "Satoru and I will know if anything happens. You deserve more time with her, too."
Misato swallows. "Thank you, Geto-sama. For everything you and Gojo-sama are doing for us."
Geto simply smiles serenely at her. Misato makes her way over to Riko and Gojo, who are back to bickering over the jellyfish.
"Kuroi," Riko whines the minute she draws up to them, "tell this fool that the jellyfish aren't stupid!"
"Well, you certainly don't see them every day."
Gojo huffs. "You're boring, Kuroi-san," he whines, peering at her with a petulant pout on his lips. She catches a glimpse of his elusive eyes hidden behind his glasses, so blue they rival the skies and seas and...eerie in a way that makes her realize the sheer power they hold.
She shivers. It's easy to forget how powerful the boys are when they behave so carefree and so childlike. It wouldn't be advisable to forget that the boys before her are special-grades. There's a reason that they were the ones assigned to this mission.
Still, she can't help but wonder how wise it is to assign a pair of sixteen-year-olds on a mission such as this? Of course, the sorcerer world suffers a shortage eternally, but wasn't there any other first-grade they could assign to this?
Isn't it too cruel to let teenagers watch another die?
No, she reprimands herself, it isn't dying. Riko has reminded her of that one too many times. Even if it basically is dying, it's not dying. There's a difference.
(Does the distinction even matter?)
"Kuroi?" Riko asks, tugging at her sleeve like she's ten years old and upset that she's being singled out for being an orphaned rich kid. "Are you okay?"
Misato tears her eyes away from Gojo dragging a complaining yet smiling Geto around the corner of the tanks, ducking out of sight. "I'm fine, Ojo-sama," she reassures her ward. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
Riko beams. "Isn't this super cool?!" she exclaims, gesturing to the jellyfish. "They just...float around. And they look so pretty, too. I like their colors."
Misato hums. "They are very pretty," she agrees. "I'm glad..." she falters. I'm glad you're having fun on your last day? She can't say that. Geto's promise or not. "...that we've found something interesting for you to do."
"I guess those two aren't so bad after all," Riko replies, hand drifting along the glass. "I'm...I'm really happy that I get a good last day, like this. Aren't you?"
The jellyfish seem ethereal in the cobalt and sea-blue light, spilling through their translucent bodies and the water and glass to illuminate the image of a truly happy Riko. Misato wonders what it's like to exist as a jellyfish. So far removed from the world of humans and their petty power struggles.
The world of sorcerers that just keeps taking and taking. It hasn't escaped her notice how Geto's smile turns strained when Riko speaks blithely of her dead parents, or the way Gojo straight-up pretends to not hear.
It hasn't escaped her notice how the sorcerers she sees keep getting younger and younger. How they just seem to decrease instead of multiply. More of them become windows, instead. Not for a lack of trying, but...
"I am, Riko-sama," she swallows around her tears. "I am. I'm so glad."
Riko grabs her hand and drags her further along the aquarium and Misato just goes with it, if only to give her child some more time, if only to have more time with her.
If only, if only, if only. So many if onlys. So many what ifs. So many if only I had done this, done that. Why does Riko have to go? What kind of justice is it that she has to lose herself, her everything?
The thought strikes her over and over again as they finish up in the aquarium, as the sun sets and they settle onto the beach again for a snack, not in the mood for a meal after their heavy lunch but hungry enough to eat something anyway.
Misato watches Gojo and Geto discuss their plans moving forward, being careful to not mention their determination to not let Riko merge if she so wishes it, while Riko lists to the side and quietly dozes off on Misato's shoulder. She absently strokes Riko's hair, loose from its braid again, ribbon wound around her hand for safekeeping. Listens to her breathing, soft and gentle.
More than anything, Misato wants this moment to last forever. For Riko to sleep peacefully without having to face the reality of the world, for—for—
She inhales shakily. She can endure this. For Riko, she will. She will.
For Riko, she'll readily endure anything, the same way a mother would endure anything for her child.
(And is that not what they are, a mother and a child, struggling ceaselessly against the world?)
It all falls apart.
She never does get the name of the assassin before he stabs her through the chest with the same knife he pulled on Gojo. Riko-sama, she thinks as she convulses, chokes on her own blood, Riko-sama, Riko-sama—
And when she opens her eyes, she's horribly confused for a second. For a long, awful moment, she's gripped by soul-crushing loneliness.
She's not sure where she is. An airport, it looks like. An empty waiting lounge, but she can hear the indistinct chatter of voices somewhere. Some even sound familiar but she can't place them. There's a plane on standby outside, and she stares out the large glass windows, mentally replaying the last few moments of her life.
Riko-sama, she whispers. It doesn't do much good.
Her hand touches her ribcage. The knife had gone clean through. She hadn't stood a chance. Riko. Geto. Gojo. What about them? What about Riko—
"Kuroi?"
She whirls, and a horrible sob wrenches itself out of her throat. "Riko-sama," she cries out, guttural and raw, and she flings herself at Riko, crushing her so tight against her chest, burying her face in Riko's hair. Riko's crying, too, her tears soaking through the shirt Misato wears. The same one she'd worn in Okinawa.
The happiest day of her life. The most painful, too.
"I'm sorry," she finds herself repeating over and over, "I'm sorry, Riko-sama, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't protect you, I'm sorry—"
"It's not your fault, Kuroi," Riko insists, looking up at her fiercely. "It's not your fault, it's never your fault, never."
It takes a while for them to stop crying. Misato has never let herself cry this much before. She's never seen Riko cry this much since her parents died.
"I love you, Riko-sama," she says, this time repeating the final words she'd said to her ward. "I never wanted you to merge. I wanted you to grow up and be happy. Even if you never got to develop your cursed technique, even if you had to live as a non-sorcerer for the rest of your life...I wanted that more than anything. If it meant you didn't have to die."
Riko doesn't refute the merger being akin to death this time. She's quiet as they sit on a couch, staring out at the sky, the landscape that stretches on and on without ever really showing any other hint of life.
"Kuroi, are we dead?" she asks finally.
Misato doesn't lie to her. "Yes, I'm certain we are."
"How did you die, Kuroi?"
"The...the assassin. He defeated Gojo-sama somehow and went after you. He got to me first." She touches her chest, and Riko's gaze doesn't miss it.
"I don't know how he got to me," Riko says. "Geto, he told me he and that idiot would protect me if I chose not to merge. He said they'd fight for me, even if it meant having to fight Tengen-sama."
"I know."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want to force a choice on you," Misato says. "I wanted you to come to a conclusion yourself. I didn't want to overstep."
"It wouldn't have been." Riko scoots closer, lies down with her head in Misato's lap. "One moment, I was reaching for Geto's hand, and the next minute...I just wasn't there. I remember a really loud bang, but...nothing else."
As if subconsciously, she touches the side of her head, and though horror rises in Misato's throat, she doesn't say anything. "At least we're together again, Ojou-sama," she says quietly. "Nothing and no one can get to us anymore."
"Nothing," Riko echoes. "Never again."
It's awfully fitting, in death, that they're allowed to be together as a parent and child without any restrictions. That it took death for either of them to ever really feel free. That this is where they've ended up.
It's not an ideal existence. It never will be. But it's what they've been given, and if this is how Misato's wishes come true—
Then so be it. She's simply content to never have to suffer in that way, never have to see Riko suffer in that way, again.