Chapter Text
There is a man, tall with a hole the size of her head in his abdomen and missing an arm, dripping blood in her garden.
“I shouldn’t be able to see you.” She announces.
“No,” he agrees, arching an eyebrow, “you shouldn’t.”
***
She eyes the size of his wound.
“I’m dead,” he rolls his eyes, then adds, “only since this morning, though.”
“I can tell,” she snaps, quietly following up with, “are you a curse?”
She knows he isn’t. If he was, she wouldn’t be able to see him, but Maki is still holding out on the slight chance that she develops her cursed technique late.
“No… I don’t believe so.” He sways his head from side to side, observing the Zen’in grounds and then looks down at himself. Bringing up a finger, he pokes his stomach, or where his stomach would be, and prods the surrounding area. He curses something called a ‘Six Eyes’ under his breath.
Maki’s brows stitch together, “then why can I see you?”
She’d rather he assume that even if he was a curse, she’d be able to tell.
“I don’t fuckin’ know, didn’t you hear me? I only just died.” He scowls at her, then narrows his eyes.
He stares at her hair until recognition passes through his face.
“You’re Ogi’s daughter,” he says abruptly.
She stiffens, hackles raising at this unknown man who is apparently familiar with her.
“One of,” she corrects, “I have a twin sister, Mai.”
He whistles.
“Twins? Yikes.”
She bares her teeth at him.
He snickers, then walks closer to her.
“What are you—”
“We’ll see how long you last, if you last,” he says cryptically, then offers a smirk, “nice to meet you, sister of Mai. I’m your cousin, Toji.”
She looks up at him, refusing to cower beneath his intimidating figure, “it’s Maki.”
***
“Where are you going?” She demands, struggling to keep up with his pace. Toji moves past the greenery, intent on exiting the compound.
They need to figure this out, immediately. She isn’t supposed to see dead people. Even in her admittedly small amount of knowledge regarding the clan’s history, there was no record of this sort of ability manifesting.
“None of your business,” he strides forward, gaze flickering behind her before hissing, “shit.”
“Maki!” Ogi yells from across the yard, speeding down the gravel. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“You can’t leave,” Maki whispers, trying to keep her voice level to hide her franticness.
“This is your problem,” he replies, merciless, “leave me alone.”
Her face twists as she disregards the impending footsteps of her father to stare at Toji’s steadily growing smaller figure. His hand is tucked away in a pocket, and he doesn’t turn back to look at her.
“Inside, girl.”
Her father rips her away from where she stands, feet kicking up rocks as she hurries to walk on his right side, a measured step behind him. He has her wrists in an awkward grip, larger hands encircling hers and tightening as they get closer to the house. Dulled nails sink into the flesh beneath her palms.
Dragging the door aside, he yanks her down the hallway to her bedroom with spitted reminders of consequences, then shoves her into Mai with a disapproving look.
Quickly, her sister leads her inside the bedroom, shutting the door and sitting her at the desk.
“I saw you walking away from the house, Maki,” Mai scolds, “why would you try to leave without permission?”
“I wasn’t trying to leave,” she argues, keeping her hands steady in her sisters grip.
Mai runs her fingers over the reddened skin of her wrists, rubbing small circles to try and alleviate the pain.
“Then what were you trying to do?”
Maki freezes.
This is Mai. This is her sister. Maki trusts her with her everything, but this… thing that transpired minutes earlier, feels like it falls outside of the realm of everything. He could’ve been something born from her imagination out of boredom, because it’s true, she has never heard of him before. Zen’in Toji may be the result of one of the properties of the flowers she grew weeks ago, a hallucinogen she unknowingly planted.
It wouldn’t make sense to tell Mai, when Maki doesn’t even have that many facts in the first place. The ballpark for the why and how are far too large, and she isn’t sure if this is even some sort of technique, as in she now holds some sort of connection with regular spirits in place of the cursed ones. But if that were the case, then she would’ve known by now.
The Zen’in Clan is big and old. If she could see ghosts, then she probably would’ve caught one lurking outside their bedroom.
“Maki.”
She gulps.
“I got careless—I was running after this butterfly, and Father must’ve assumed that I intended on leaving. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
***
“So.” She says awkwardly, tapping her nails sporadically against the wood. Her leg jitters, bouncing against her seat as she tries to find the words.
Toji is back, after four long days of wondering whether she went mad.
The bench they’re occupying sits at the edge of the last flowerbed, overlooking a short lawn and the small pond adjacent to it.
Maki isn’t sure whether or not it’s appropriate to ask how Toji died, especially since he hasn’t offered up any details himself. Nevertheless, the how isn’t the first question on her list of her concerns. No, it ranks solidly underneath the why can she see him.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he says casually, leaning his right arm against the back of the bench.
She takes the time to properly observe his post-mortem state. His skin holds a pale blue tint, which becomes a fleshier pink the more she concentrates, but turns more translucent when she turns her attention away. The gaping hole running through his upper body is still there, and is obviously the physical reason as to his death, but she has no ideas on how he even got it. Oddly, the blood from the wound is still there, dripping as if his body weren’t lifeless.
It slides down the edges of the crater and the stump of his left shoulder, spilling onto the bench. Once it makes contact, however, it immediately disappears in a small cloud of smoke.
It’s freaky.
“I’m thinking,” she retorts, growing miffed at his nonchalance. She doesn’t want to consider that she holds some sort of quality that makes her connected to dead people.
“Think harder,” he observes his cuticles.
“I don’t know why it had to start with you.” Vengeful at his lack of care, she adds, “I’ve never even heard of a Zen’in Toji.”
“That’s cause I’m not.”
Her head whips to the side. She didn’t initially bother looking at his face, but now that she takes the time to look she recognizes how he has the typical dark hair, and the same sharp facial structure.
“It’s Fushiguro Toji, but you wouldn’t have heard of me regardless.” His expression is still unconcerned, but there’s definitely an edge of satisfaction coming from her confusion.
“Are you going to explain yourself,” Maki cuts to the chase, not in the mood for the type of word games Naoya likes playing.
He scratches the back of his head absentmindedly, letting her stew in silence for a moment, before continuing.
“I’m not clan—and I don’t have any cursed energy.”
Oh. Oh… So he’s like her.
Maki latches onto that last part, flinching backwards. She’s not the only born Zen’in to not be able to see the creatures they’re sworn to kill. Well, she has a little bit of energy, but Toji, Toji doesn’t have any.
She hesitates before admitting, “I can’t see curses.”
His gaze snaps towards her, computing.
“There’s the money,” he chuckles suddenly, then leans over and wags his finger between his chest and her, “Zen’in Clan rejects.”
Ignoring his last comment, she lets his prior statement turn over in her brain.
“What,” she says doubtfully, “you think because of our lack of cursed energy, that’s the reason why I can see you?”
“That’s what I’m working with,” he sighs, ignoring her agitation.
“But, that—that doesn’t,” she stutters, “that doesn’t make sense. If anything, wouldn’t it be the opposite way around?”
Toji throws his hand up and scowls.
“Fuck off, you don’t have anything better.”
He sits upright, then hauls himself off the bench and starts to walk away.
“Wait!” She calls, scrambling to jump off and follow him, “you can’t leave again, we still aren’t sure of anything.”
Toji sends her an unimpressed look, “and why should I care? I’m not the one seeing dead people kid, this is a you problem.”
“It only started because you died,” she logics out, “that makes this an us problem.”
He scoffs, but doesn’t slow down as he strolls down the path.
“I’ve got better places to be than here,” Toji says boredly, “I’ll be back soon, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
It’s not, because Maki doesn’t know her cousin that well, but she can already tell they have very different definitions of soon.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms, halting before the gravel path turns left.
He sends her a taunting wave as he crosses the gate, “later, let me know if you find any severed heads screaming.”
***
Maki was right.
Soon for Toji means fifteen days.
“Find anything?” He asks, dropping next to her on the edge of the pond and tilting forward.
“What?” She responds, not even bothering to start the argument.
He looks at her flatly, “seriously, weren’t you the one all freaked out too? You didn’t do any research?”
Maki’s cheeks redden, and she quickly darts her head away, choppy bangs slicing her cheeks. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Fuck,” Toji states plainly, gazing into his reflection in the water, “I guess I should’ve expected that.” Quieter, this part Maki thinks she wasn’t supposed to hear, he mumbles in a exasperated tone, kids.
Her hopeful mood dampens as she lets her hair cover the rest of her face. Hunching her shoulders in, she draws her knees up to her chest. She should’ve gone looking for something.
“Kid.”
Why did she count on Toji to find anything? He’s dead, a ghost, intangible. It’s not like he could go sifting through books like she could. Certainly she’d face the consequences for waltzing into the Zen’in library, but this is a situation that definitely warrants it.
Stupid. She’s so stupid, now she’ll have to wait for Toji to come back again to discuss her findings. If she manages to get in the warded building, and if the collection even contains a book that discusses non-cursed spirits.
“Fucking—kid, Maki, want to see something cool?”
Cool?
She jerks out of her thoughts, wondering what her cousin defines as cool. As she twists her body back around, a line of water dibbles down her sleeve.
“You—“ her shocked response forms, “you can touch stuff?”
In lieu of an answer he jerks his fingers at her, spraying droplets onto the rest of her yukata.
Maki growls, shoving her hand into the dirty pond, ignoring the grimy feeling she gets from it, and sends a handful in his direction.
Disappointingly, it passes right through his body, creating a wet patch on the ground next to her.
Toji laughs, “just figure it out on your own time. ’S it really so bad to see me?”
***
She doesn’t go to the library. She’ll be getting her corrective glasses soon, she reasons, and Maki’d rather not give her father any reason to withhold them.
Toji comes back a week later. He doesn’t ask if she discovers anything helpful. He seems solemn when he collapses onto the bench next to her, tired and worn. She doesn’t say anything either, choosing to watch the birds.
***
“How’d you get that scar?” She asks one day, ripping out some of the grass beneath her hand.
He taps against the one that splits his lips, “this one?”
It cuts deep, a sharp line through his skin. It looks old. She wonders if he was born with it.
She nods, lifting her hand up and watching the blades of green fall into her lap.
“Fought a shark,” he says casually.
She scrunches up her nose then asserts, “no, you didn’t.”
“Did too.” He teases, smiling wide to make the gnarled skin stretch.
“There’s no way you went up against a shark ‘nd the only scratch you got was that tiny one.”
“Alright, I lied.” He admits after a few seconds, lifting his arm up to cradle his head and falling backwards onto the green.
He picks up some of the grass that scattered away from her lap with a grin, clutching them in his hand before flinging them at her face.
“It was two sharks.”
***
Naoya crushes the corrective glasses before she can wear them.
“These ugly things?” He laughs, dry and short, “even seeing curses, you’ll be a million steps behind. The least you can do is look pretty, and these things wouldn’t be doing you any favors.”
The crunching noise, quiet but sharp, still echoes in her ears, and the bending of the metal frame still flashes in her eyes.
“Mai,” he sings, “collect your worse half. And fix her while you’re at it.”
Her sister shuffles in, looping her elbow through Maki’s and attempts to tug her away from their cousin.
“Come on,” she whispers, pulling.
Maki stumbles backwards, eyes still locked on the warped glasses sitting on the ground. Mai attempts to drag her again, quiet pleads in her ear.
“Maki,” Naoya says sharply.
Her sister flinches, fingers loosening around Maki’s forearm.
He stamps his foot down on the glasses, twisting until they shatter.
***
She’s banging her fists into the soft dirt of the flowerbed when she hears heavy footsteps approach.
“Why is he like that. Why does everyone let him be like that?”
Toji huffs, “names, kid.”
“Naoya.” She hesitates before deciding to take a page from her cousin’s book, “fuckin’ Naoya.”
A wheeze of laughter sounds from her left, before the sound of a body falling into the bench behind her enters her ears.
“Naoya, huh. Met him once, ten or so years ago. He was a bit of a shit—but it’s not just him, if you’re looking to blame someone. The whole clan’s like this, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Naobito told him to go after you.”
Maki clenches her hands and makes a garbled noise in her throat.
She’s met her uncle only once—and that was far too many times.
***
It’s easy to forget that, for all of Toji’s knowledge of the Zen’in, he isn’t one.
Maki leans her head over Mai’s chest, hovering as she checks to make sure she can hear the type of deep breathing that can only be induced from sleep.
It’s a spur of the moment decision, but sitting awake for the past few hours staring at the ceiling had her drawing a map of the compound in her head. Including the old basement that holds important clan files she’s supposed to maintain fifty meters at least from at all times.
After confirming the girl’s unconscious status, Maki tiptoes over to her window, gently gripping the edges to pull open. Sliding them towards her, a moment ticks by as Maki hesitates, waiting to see if the whistle of the entering breeze wakes her sister, before lifting her knees up to crawl over. Soft placing her feet on the dirt, she shifts her weight forward until her palms are the only part of her body still leaning on the window sill. Once balanced, Maki twists to bring the windows towards her, letting them rest just on the edge of completely shut.
Taking advantage of the adrenaline boost lurking in her blood, she darts past her house, ducking low as she scampers down the path.
Her only form of light are the stars, which aren’t bright enough to display the rocks scattered along the ground. Maki barely catches herself as she tips forward, her toes scuff but she is able to refrain from falling, which would lead to a much louder and revealing noise.
The dark maroon color of the archive’s doors starkly contrast the glinting gold of the handles. Squatting over to test them, a light pull reveals they’ve been left unlocked. Grinning, Maki pops open the side of the cellar, carefully lifting the rusted hatch in fear of any creaking noises.
A few lanterns line the sides, illuminating the dusty staircase, and shiny cobwebs stretch across ceiling.
Maki ducks down onto the steps, then leverages a stick in between the doors to keep them open. Tugging one of the lights off the wall to grip in her clammy hand, Maki begins to descend.
Her footsteps are loud and echo through the entire chamber, announcing her presence to the scuttling mice. Finally, as she nears the bottom, the staircase evolves into a large room with shelves lining the walls and labelled with years underneath.
Placing her lantern at the lone, center table, Maki moves to the oldest section first, out of curiosity.
She barely reaches the large boxes, but Maki manages to feel around and swipe a random file from the top. Bringing it to her eye level, her eyes attempt to scan over the contents.
The pages are blank.
Or rather, the pages are embedded with cursed energy meant to exclude any non-sorcerer from being able to view them.
So, for Maki, the pages are blank.
The paper crinkles in her grasp as she lets out a deep exhale, arms trembling.
Of course.
Maki grits her teeth and brushes the pages with her palm to try and hide any damage before shoving them back into the box above her head. Abandoning her quest to learn anything about the clan’s origins, Maki drifts to the boxes at the far side of the room, dated from the mid-70s to the early 2000s.
She struggles to lift the bin, then hurriedly carries it over to the table where she lets it collapse onto the wood. Maki tugs the string hanging from the singular lamp for more visibility, and immediately the desk space is lit by the bright red bulb.
Maki rifles through the papers, eyes flitting over the names as she searches for a Toji.
She passes by random members that are either dead or are unimportant in the present day. Her fingers hover over her father’s name, a file that undoubtedly holds records of his actions and his marriage to her own mother, but Maki ultimately flies past it.
Locating the document that details the bloodline, she pulls it out and places it underneath the lamp, hope burrowing in her heart.
Maki, letting out a sigh of relief, assumes that the embedding of cursed energy in records is either an outdated practice, meant for highly confidential information, or only occurs once a report reaches a certain age.
The details don’t matter, because Maki is grateful she can now put the pieces together.
Fingertips brushing through dusty pages, Maki begins to frown as she fails to find any mention of a Toji. She stops, then starts back at the top of the page and wires her brain to look solely for her cousin’s name.
Nothing. Not a single mention of a Zen’in Toji.
Nor a Fushiguro, but Maki isn’t stupid enough to assume they’d let a non-Zen’in be named in their precious archive.
There has to be a relation line, somewhere.
Maki skips over to the past and current head, Zen’in Naobito. She deduces that if Toji is her cousin, then Naobito must be his uncle too.
Listed next to his name is Zen’in Naoya. That’s it.
Maki halts in her confusion—why is there no record of a Zen’in Toji?
He claimed to have no longer been a part of the clan, but even then, he had been at one point. Zen’in Toji was someone’s son, and someone’s nephew. But Maki can’t find anything.
Maki’s head sifts through the possible reasons as she packs the box back up, then props it against her hip, carrying it over to the shelf.
She hesitates before leaving, eyeing the box that sits next to that holds other files from the late 90s to the present. Her file is in there.
Maki squashes any room for doubt as she immediately goes to haul that box over to the table.
Fingers peeling back pages, she stumbles across another document discussing the family line, this one, being much more recent, must have her and her sister’s names on it. Maki slides the paper out of the compartment and lies it on the table.
Listed beneath Zen’in Ogi is a single box, with the words ‘Zen’in Ma.’
Maki’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, the paper has yellowed edges, so maybe it was written before the clan knew that her father would be having twins, but after he decided their names.
She shifts backward, minor headache growing from the combined bewilderment at the lack of Toji’s, Mai’s, and her own name in the records. Pushing aside the bin, Maki locates a writing utensil and fills in the box. Next to the ‘Ma’, in her neatest handwriting, Maki puts an ‘i,’ then quickly draws a box next to it and adds ‘Zen’in Maki.’
Satisfied with the fix, Maki carefully lowers the paper back inside the bin and returns it to it’s place. She turns the lamp off then snatches up her lantern. Maki ascends the staircase.
***
“I snuck into the family archives last night.” She informs him, plopping down next to him in front the pond.
His brows furrow as he sends a confused look her way.
“Looked for your name in the registry,” she explains, “I couldn’t find anything.”
She observes his face go through a serious of motions. First, he processes. His jaw drops slightly, mouth parting with a quiet ‘oh,’ sound. Second, he gathers himself by shutting his mouth, and something sparkles in his eyes. Third, he throws his head back, and lets out a deep bark of laughter.
“Of course it wouldn’t be there,” mirth flashing across his features, “yours won’t either.”
His words catch her off guard, causing her to startle backwards with fear-anger littering in her chest.
“What do you mean,” she snaps, “yes it will, I’m a member of this family.”
“No, it won’t. You’re fucking useless.”
“I am not!” She exclaims, jumping to her feet as blood starts to rush to her face.
She’s not—she’s not useless. Curses aren’t visible to her, but her father has, begrudgingly, informed her that she will be having a new set of glasses made to correct the issue. And yes, Mai is the only one attending any sort of education regarding cursed spirits, but she’ll be there soon too. Once she gets her glasses.
He gives her a flat look, “I thought we went over this already,” he brings up a finger and waves it between them. “Zen-in Clan re-jects,” he speaks slowly, pronouncing each word.
“No!” She screeches at him. “I’m not—I’m not a reject, and I’m not useless.”
“Look,” he huffs, still with a pleasant expression, “this is a clan sitting on top of Jujutsu society, yet you don't even have a cursed technique. Don’t kid yourself.”
Her temper flares up. Her lack of energy, her inability to see curses—it doesn’t matter. How dare he say anything.
“I’m not like you.” She seethes at him, “you’re useless, I won’t fail and die.” She winces immediately after the words escape her, apology sitting on her tongue, but Toji surprises her by letting out a chuckle.
“Ouch,” he responds smugly, “but it’s the truth, kid. Take if from me, you’re just another shitstain on the bottom of their shoe. No matter how strong you get, they will never let you amount to anything.”
“Stop saying that!” Maki screams, digging her hands into her hair and tugging.
He lets out a long breath before swiping the dirt off his knees and getting up. Toji walks a few steps away, a harsh line of tension cutting across the tops of his shoulders. After another aggravated noise he turns back around to face her.
She glares at him, upper body rising and falling rapidly to keep up with her heavy breathing.
“The best thing you can do for yourself—“
“I’m going to be clan head,” she declares, crossing her arms across her chest.
He freezes, eyes widening.
“I’ll get so strong that they can’t ignore me. I’ll take the title and become the leader of Zen’in Clan. No cursed energy necessary.”
She expects him to look down his nose and scoff at her, to keel over and fall into a fit of laughter. Instead, he’s silent, expression growing icy.
“Get over yourself, the clan’d slaughter you before you even got the chance.”
***
Anger echoes in all of her movements.
She attempts to fix her bed in the morning three times, each progressively leaving it more and more messy as her motions speed and grow sloppy. She eats jerkily, spooning each mouthful sporadically as her father tuts at her gracelessness. She even completely misses Mai screaming at her to run from an invisible curse.
A prickly sensation coats her shoulders and suddenly a short swipe cuts down the side of her neck, curving to the top of her collarbone. The pain isn’t extreme, but there’s a warmth that settles as the blood runs down her chest.
“Maki!” Her sister screams, eyes wide as she yanks her away and stares down the curse that’s apparently ten feet tall.
Some random clan member exits the main house moments later and exorcises the creature. They take one look at her and suck in a sharp breath at the wound, then lead her inside to where her mother rests.
“Maki…” her mother whispers, palm coming up to cover her mouth as she scans the trail of red on the side of her neck.
She shuffles closer and tugs one of the napkins off the table to drag down her skin. The white cloth stains red, and Maki assumes that there’s still some left over blood smudged around the area.
Her mothers hands shake and her voice hitches, “this is bad, this is bad.”
“Mama,” Maki tells her assuringly, “it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.”
Her mother is off in a land far away, pupils still hung on the hooked line permanently settling into her neck.
“Bad, bad, bad…”
***
Toji doesn’t come back till three weeks later.
She’s practicing calligraphy at the small desk in her room, fed up with the stuffiness and preparing to open the window, when she catches his hunched over figure standing at the edge of the lawn. The same dinner platter sized hole through his midsection, and the unmistakable bloody bicep hanging off his left shoulder.
Maki exits the house casually, hair swishing forward to hide the small white bandage. Her footsteps make a low noise against the dirt, announcing her presence as she nears the bench.
He doesn’t apologize, but she never expected him to. She certainly wasn’t going to either.
“Still holding on to your fantasy?” He asks quietly, with an undercurrent of rage.
“Mhm,” she replies, sending him a sharp look, daring him to give her another speech on everything she will never be able to accomplish.
He sighs, but drops the subject.
Maki hesitates before plopping down on the seat, “you sticking around?”
“I guess,” he answers, staring at one of the dying irises, “no one else to talk to, is there.”
Maki nods, heart clenching the slightest bit. He doesn’t owe her anything, he never did, and it isn’t fair of Maki to assume he should stick around simply because there’s no else in the compound besides her sister to converse with. His reasoning is logical, as despite how far he may be able to travel, there is no one else, to her knowledge, that can see him.
It would be stupid of her to get attached, he is, after all, dead. Who even knows when she’ll lose this particularly useless ability of hers.
“I guess.” She repeats.
***
He comes back three days later.
Shock courses through her, causing her fingers to jerk and drop the flower crown she was making when his shadow colors the ground in front of her.
“You’ll need a few more flowers,” he notes, smiling as he bends over.
A droplet of blood hits the ground next to her creation, sizzling into a grey smoke that gives way to the emerald grass.
She opens her mouth for a retort before her lips get the chance to smile, “nuh-uh.”
He shoots her an unimpressed look before shuffling over and slowly lowering himself onto the ground, using his single arm to balance himself.
“You’ve got a big head,” he taps his crown, humor spreading through his expression, “so two more, at least.”
***
Toji comes back two weeks after that, then five days, and the next a month.
It’s sporadic, but Maki doesn’t mind sporadic. Sometimes, when she’s feeling particularly testy after a conversation with her father or a mishap with Naoya, she’ll bring up her future plans and lead them into an argument. Other times, Toji is withdrawn and has this dead look on his face. He doesn’t utter a word those times, and he refuses to look at the house too. But the remaining moments are filled with short conversations, stupid and dumb in the exact way she needs.
Lately, Mai grows more and more timid, quick to put an arm around Maki to tug her away before she gets the opportunity to bite back. Quick to pull Maki away and let her settle her rage with a soft pillow instead of letting her spill over.
She knows, instinctually, she should be thanking her sister. But Maki’d rather punch Naoya and starve for days then rip another piece of paper in attempts to draw her feelings.
Toji’s rudeness, his pure honesty and I-dare-you-to-say-some-shit-back-brat, is the perfect cure.
She doesn’t make the same mistake of thinking they’re something he needs, however. She will never make the mistake that he needs anything from her, ever. The thought doesn’t hurt so much anymore, dulled as she learns that fathers are horrible and sisters are cowards. She doesn’t need him to like her, she just needs him to come by—she can’t count on him to be consistent, but he is, in fact, there. For the most part.
But then her cousin Megumi visits, and she doesn’t see him for four months.