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Exhaling slowly, Ijichi Kiyotaka consciously relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. This was his first solo assignment as an auxiliary manager. Though he had driven this vehicle dozens of times before during training, he couldn't help white-knuckling the wheel in anticipation. Thankfully this mission was a simple one. How hard could picking up a young passenger at the train station be?
As Ijichi pulled up to the station, he scanned the crowd for a passenger of less than average height. It was only when he drove to the end of the passenger pick-up lane that he saw the young light-haired boy standing alone on the far side of the station’s entrance. He looked incredibly small clutching his bright green backpack, looking down at the pavement.
The auxiliary manager brought the car to a stop alongside him, then got out of the black vehicle. The boy only raised his head once Ijichi was a few paces away. He was wearing a facemask that swallowed his face, completely covering the lower half. The Inumaki clan’s signature snake eye markings were prominently featured on the sides. Perhaps as a means of identifying him?
“Inumaki-kun?” Ijichi cautiously approached the child, not wanting to frighten him. He could only have been seven or eight at the most. Though it was not uncommon in Japan for parents to allow their kids to wander outside the house unsupervised, it did strike Ijichi as odd that no one had accompanied someone so young on a journey to meet complete strangers.
The boy gazed up at him from under his bowl cut. The violet eyes looked Ijichi over discerningly but without fear. It seemed he was braver than Ijichi had been at his age. The Inumaki child nodded silently in acknowledgment, stretching out his hand. It was then Ijichi noticed the folded paper.
“Thank you, Inumaki-kun,” the auxiliary manager said, taking the note with a small, hopefully reassuring smile. He bent his knees so that he was closer to the child’s eye level. “I am Ijichi Kiyotaka, I work for Jujutsu High School. I’m here to take you to Gojo Satoru for your speech lessons, are you ready to go?”
The boy shook his head, pointing to the envelope now in Ijichi’s possession.
“Alright, let’s take a look,” Ijichi removed and unfolded the paper, noting the corners had been crumpled from being grasped tightly in small hands. It was a letter from the Inumaki Clan stating their gratitude to Gojo Satoru for taking on the responsibility of teaching the young inheritor of their cursed speech technique: Inumaki Toge. It listed strict instructions to all those interacting with the child, cautioning them to keep communication with him to a minimum to avoid any accidents. The envelope also included a written permission form for young Inumaki’s travels and an ID card that confirmed he was seven, soon to be eight years old.
The guardian's writing seemed entirely without feeling, though they were sending a child off into the unknown for the first time. It was also apparent the face mask he wore did not signal belonging to the clan as much as it served as a warning to everyone else. No wonder those violet eyes seemed impassive, and perhaps a little sad.
In the past, the Inumaki Clan was ostracized, even hunted down by the rest of jujutsu society because of their powerful hereditary technique. As useful as cursed speech was for combat it was a burden in itself. Inheritors of the technique had to be intentional with their tongues for fear of accidentally cursing others with an errant word. It must have been an immense responsibility to put on a child who was still in primary school.
Stuffing the note in his breast pocket, Ijichi nodded, “Thank you, Inumaki-kun. Or would you prefer Toge?”
The boy shrugged his slender shoulders. It seems either would do, though Ijichi tended towards formality. It seemed more polite.
“Well, I will pass this on to Gojo-san. Now are you ready, Inumaki-kun? You may want to use the facilities first. It's a long drive to campus.”
The kid blinked and scrunched his brows together, perhaps in confusion?
Oh right, he was speaking to a seven-year-old after all. Suddenly being a single child left Ijichi wishing he had more experience with younger children. “Oh, um… Inumaki-kun, do you need to use the toilet before we go?”
Recognition flashed in his eyes, then young Inumaki nodded his head.
“Alright,” Ijichi straightened up. The two just stood there looking at each other for a moment when it occurred to Ijichi that he should show his young passenger the way. “Oh… um, I believe there is one over here. Let’s see.” There was probably a restroom by the station’s entrance.
The child just blinked at him with an expression Ijichi was desperately trying to read.
“May I take your bag for you?” he asked, extending his hand down to the boy.
Inumaki shook his head, tossing his green backpack over his shoulder. Right, Ijichi would probably have to take things slow to build a rapport. He was a stranger after all.
They walked side by side to the bathroom, and Ijichi waited outside for the youngster to come back out. In short order, they were walking out of the station towards the car. Out of habit, he held the door open for his passenger. Inumaki dove into the backseat head first, climbing on his hands and knees until he was upright in the booster seat. He was grateful the auxiliary managers already had one on hand for driving young Fushiguro-kun. Ijichi closed the door then sat himself in the front, sliding the safety belt across his lap. Ijichi started the car and went through his usual mental checklist, glancing in all his mirrors.
It was only when he looked into the rearview mirror that he noticed his passenger was not buckled. “Um, Inumaki-kun?” Ijichi asked the reflection. “Could you please fasten your seatbelt?”
Nodding, the boy looked around over his shoulder and tried to pull the belt across himself. His short arms could only make the strap reach so far though he did nearly have it.
Ijichi really should have thought of this! “That’s alright Inumaki-kun, I can help you.”
He looked down at his lap and nodded his head.
Ijichi unfastened his belt and went around to the backseat. Still gazing at his feet, the boy extended the seatbelt out towards the man. Ijichi took it carefully, pulling out some more slack so that he could easily fasten it without getting too close to his passenger.
“There,” the auxiliary manager said, adjusting the belt with the child-safety attachment so it hit his small chest in the right place. “Comfortable?”
The boy blinked.
Ijichi straightened up, “Is everything alright, Inumaki-kun?”
He didn’t move.
Anxiety began to constrict his chest. As a new auxiliary manager, Ijichi was still learning how to act professionally with adults and escorting a child was most definitely out of his comfort zone. Ijichi was a single child, he didn’t have any younger cousins either. He tried desperately to think of himself at that age. He definitely could not have traveled so far on his own, and thankfully he never had to.
“You know, I think you are incredibly brave, Inumaki-kun,” Ijichi said finally. “I didn’t travel by myself to Tokyo until I was thirteen.”
Those violet eyes finally rose to meet his gaze. They were glossy but his small face, or what Ijichi could see of it, remained stoic.
“And I was terrified,” Ijichi attempted a small chuckle. “Gojo-san and the rest of us at Jujutsu High are looking forward to having you. We will all do our best to…”
‘To help you?’ Ijichi didn’t want to be patronizing, drawing attention to the obvious. They all knew why he was here, his clan had sent the young cursed speech user away to be someone else's problem. Ijichi changed tact, “to make you feel welcome.”
Inumaki blinked slowly and nodded his head, this time with slightly more conviction.
“Good, now let’s get going,” Ijichi said.
He was ducking out of the back seat when the youngster’s stomach growled loudly. Inumaki looked back up at the driver, placing a hand on his stomach.
“I suppose we can stop somewhere to eat on the way,” Ijichi smiled, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose. “I know just the place.”
Stepping into the convenience store, the smell of freshly cooked rice hit Ijichi’s nostrils. There were many similar-looking establishments scattered around this bustling part of town, though Ijichi found this one had the best hand-held snacks, onigiri.
They made their generously portioned rice balls from scratch throughout the day for commuters to take with them in the car or on the train ride back to work. It made the family-owned business popular and in the early afternoon they were packed. Toge stopped just inside the entrance, looking hesitantly into the lunch rush.
“Here, Inumaki-kun” Ijichi beckoned for the boy to follow him through the throng to the refrigerated shelves where a variety of onigiri were stocked. He silently followed close behind, then stood in front of the case looking up at Ijichi expectantly.
Ijichi gazed back in confusion, “do you not like them, or?”
Inumaki sighed. Ijichi started to sweat. What on Earth did that disapproving look mean?! The boy then rocked up onto his toes and reached up as far as he could, pointing at the display above his head.
Oh right! There was no way the seven-year-old of his stature could see what he was talking about. What should he do? Give him a boost? No, that would probably not be appropriate given they just met. “Uh… well,” Ijichi looked from the display back to the boy. “You see, this store is particularly known for their housemade onigiri. Do you like rice balls, Inumaki-kun?”
The boy looked at him as if he had just asked if the sky was blue. He nodded vigorously, the bangs of his bowl cut waving.
“Excellent,” he glanced back at the choices available. “Well, it looks like they have um… umeboshi, salmon, okaka, and tuna today. Which one would you like?”
Shoot! Inumaki couldn’t respond to a question that required more than a yes or no answer. How inconsiderate! Ijichi was thinking of how he could reframe the question to make it easier.
“Salmon.”
Ijichi peered down at the child, his mouth agape.
Inumaki’s eyes widened and brought his hands to his face, burying it deeper into his mask.
Stunned, they both reacted like he had done something horribly wrong, but to the casual onlooker the boy was just answering a simple question. Ijichi glanced at the rice balls, they didn’t seem cursed. From a practical standpoint, Ijichi knew cursed speech could be dangerous, but even with his cautious nature, the child had never made him feel uneasy. So why the pause?
Ijichi cleared his throat, there was no reason that he could think of to treat this child differently than any other. Not that he was an expert in that area generally. He gave the boy another lopsided smile, then realized he had totally forgotten what his passenger had said. “Sorry, I don’t think I heard you Inumaki-kun, did you want the tuna?”
Inumaki shook his head.
“Which one then?”
He just looked at him with those light purple eyes.
“You can tell me, I’ll reach it for you,” Ijichi encouraged. He hoped it was alright, nothing had happened before. There was also a crowd of hungry commuters lining up behind them.
The face mask moved slightly as Inumaki opened his mouth beneath, then closed it again, moving the fabric back into place.
“Tuna?” Ijichji guessed again.
He shook his head.
“Okay, not tuna. Okaka?”
“Salmon,” the boy said finally, his voice small but clear.
“Yes, salmon?”
He nodded his head, “Salmon.”
“Alright then,” Ijichi retrieved his chosen rice ball and handed it to the boy. He took it into his hands as if it were made of glass, “here you are.” Ijichi randomly grabbed one for himself, not wanting to hold up the line, and escorted the youngster to checkout.
Waiting to pay, people began to push past them in the small space. Ijichi felt a tug on his pant leg. Inumaki was gripping the fabric of Ijichi’s pants with one hand and clutching his rice ball to his chest with the other.
Back at the train station, Inumaki had stood as far away from the other departing passengers as possible. It could have been practiced self-isolation due to his untrained technique though more likely it was a simple fear of large crowds. Ijichi could relate to that. Tokyo was known internationally for its dense population. Hearing about it was one thing, experiencing it was quite another.
“I… I know it’s pretty busy in here today, Inumaki-kun,” Ijicho hesitantly broke the silent queuing social protocol to address the boy. “Though I promise it’s worth the wait.” He hoped so at least.
Inumaki simply nodded in response, not letting go. That was alright. Ijichi had done much the same to his mother as a child. She had never minded when he attached himself to her whenever they went someplace crowded. Feeling the fabric between his fingers gave him a sense of security and in retrospect, it was probably nice for her to know he was right there too.
At the register, the woman smiled and they exchanged the customary pleasantries. When she asked which variety of onigiri his son had, Ijichi flushed. It was a reasonable assumption, he supposed. Though Ijichi was only eighteen, almost nineteen. Maybe the suit made him look older? It would probably be more awkward to correct her though and explain why he was with a small child he wasn’t related to. “Ah well…”
“Salmon,” Inumaki said from beside him, placing the package carefully on the counter.
“Thank you, dear,” she said cheerfully, “you can hold onto it now if you like.”
Inumaki quickly pulled it back towards himself.
Ijichi paid and thanked the teller, then the two excused themselves from the crowded store. He helped Inumaki back into his car seat, properly this time, and fastened his belt before sliding into the front. It was a general rule that managers and their passengers not eat in the school’s vehicles, but Ijichi supposed this was a fine exception. He didn’t know the last time the boy behind him had eaten and he wouldn’t be able to communicate it regardless. Though it seemed they were already making some small progress on that front. No one had suffered any ill side effects from him speaking one word. Perhaps it was only certain words that could be imbued with curses. Nouns like ‘salmon’ may be less risky than verbs.
“Alright, now we will head to campus Inumaki-kun,” Ijichi informed his passenger as he started the engine. “It will take some time with the afternoon traffic so please, go ahead and have your onigiri.”
The boy in the mirror simply looked down at his snack, holding it carefully between his small hands.
“I won’t tell anyone I allowed food in the car, as long as you don’t.” Ijichi attempted humor. Not that the boy knew about the manager’s rules. All he got was a side-eye for his efforts. Ijichi agreed, he should stick to his day job and promptly focused on hitting the road.
After a few moments, Ijichi noticed his passenger was even more quiet than expected. Perhaps he had fallen asleep? He glanced in the rearview mirror to check on him. Inumaki was just sitting with the rice ball in his lap, his face mask still in place.
It was then Ijichi remembered one of the letter’s instructions, that the face mask must stay on at all times except in private. How could he be so inconsiderate?! But of course, he still had to eat somehow.
“It is alright Inumaki-kun,” Ijichi tried to reassure him, glancing back in the mirror. “You can remove your mask in here. So you can eat.”
The boy gazed down at his onigiri, his stomach rumbling again audibly.
“Really,” Ijichi encouraged, “we still have a ways to go before we reach campus.”
Slowly he pulled his mask off and set it carefully on the seat next to him. He closed his eyes and bowed his head quickly in silent thanks, then unwrapped his snack. The only sounds that could be heard were him softly munching. That was better.
From the rearview mirror, Ijichi noticed the same snake eye pattern of the Inumaki clan was mirrored on the corners of the inheritor’s small face. If not for them, he seemed like any other seven-year-old enjoying a rice ball. Growing up within sorcerer society, Ijichi was aware of the complex social hierarchies in addition to the dangers of seeing and interacting with curses. While he had not asked to be born with his abilities he could still choose what he did with them. At first he had trained to become a sorcerer at Jujutsu High then switched career paths to become an auxiliary manager.
This child, on the other hand, had very little say in the matter. Inumaki had inherited an enormous responsibility and, from what Ijichi could tell so far, he was shouldering it with greater grace and discipline than he could ever expect from someone so young. Ijichi hoped that Gojo could in fact assist Inumaki with controlling, no, living with his unique ability. His senpai had also been born with incredible power and had to learn to harness it. Gojo could probably relate to Inumaki in ways Ijichi never could.
Traffic was moving better than he had expected, but they were only about halfway to their destination. As soon as Inumaki had finished his rice ball, he placed the mask back on his face then balled up the cellophane wrapper. Silence enveloped the passenger cab again.
“How was it, Inumaki-kun?” Ijichi asked, glancing back again.
The boy nodded his head, “salmon.”
“Um… yes it was salmon. Did you enjoy it?”
“Salmon,” he nodded once more.
Ah, Ijichi thought he might know where this is going. “Salmon, yes?”
“Salmon, salmon.” Inumaki’s voice was still soft, but the words came easier than before.
“I see,” Ijicji mirrored the boy nodding his head. “Salmon is yes, excellent Inumaki-kun.”
“Salmon!” His eyes seemed a little brighter than before.
“And what about for no?” Ijichi mused aloud, focusing on the road.
There was a long pause. “Okaka.”
“What?” Ijichi glanced back again. The word was so quiet he wasn’t certain he’d heard him correctly.
“Okaka,” Inumaki said again, more clearly, shaking his head no.
They both waited a moment. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Not a cursed fish in sight.
“It seems you can say the names of these rice balls without consequence, er… I mean, it looks like it’s safe for you to use those words, Inumaki-kun. Though of course, you will have to talk to Gojo-san about that.”
“Salmon.”
After living with the fear of speaking, perhaps it came as a relief to be able to say the words even if they were simple ones.
“Salmon,” Ijicji agreed.
The letter Inumaki had handed him before with the long list of protocols was evidence enough that the boy he picked up from the station was special. He possessed a wonderful, terrifying ability. Yet when Ijichi looked into the rearview mirror at his small passenger all he could see was a sensitive and intelligent seven-year-old. A boy left on his own in the big city, who still kept his mask on as he was told and silently gave thanks for his rice ball. Ijichi was beginning to understand that he did all this to not only follow the protocol of his clan, but to protect others.
What started as a daunting task of collecting a young child from the train had become an enlightening experience. The boy had reminded Ijichi why he decided to be an auxiliary manager in the first place.
If given the choice, Ijichi would rather not have grown up seeing the grotesque creatures invisible to everyone else. He would have preferred a normal life with his biggest concerns being running late to work or his parking meter running out. He still had those, of course, but he also had to worry about his coworkers’ meeting a gruesome end. In high school, Ijichi had decided that if he had to live in a world of curses, then he would do what he could to protect others from them. At first he thought that meant becoming a sorcerer himself, but he later discovered he was better suited to supporting them in facing the monsters plaguing their world.
At first glance, young Inumaki Toge had no choice but to engage in this world of curses and sorcerers. In the short time Ijichi had spent with the boy, he recognized that he was not a passive participant. Far from his clan and all he had known before, Inumaki had already shown his commitment to mastering his powerful technique. He remained cautious, but pushed past the fear to find a way forward. Once again Ijichi was in awe of the seven-year-old’s bravery and self-discipline.
Looking back in the rearview mirror, the boy was now asleep. His head rocked over and snoring softly against the side of the door. The auxiliary manager didn’t want to consider the possibility of one day driving Inumaki to his first mission, into potential danger. Though, Ijichi thought, it would also be a privilege to assist him one day. With his obvious intelligence and thoughtfulness, he could be a powerful ally in their ongoing struggle.
In the meantime, they would both have to work hard to develop their unique skills. Ijichi hoped Gojo-san really was the best man for the job of training Inumaki-kun. Picturing his senpai flippantly thumbing his nose at authority, he prayed at least the boy wouldn’t turn out quite the same way.
His phone on the dash began to buzz. He glanced at the caller ID: Gojo Satoru.
CRAP!
Ijichi fumbled to answer the call before it woke the sleeping boy in the backseat.