A Wisp In The Field Of Lupines

by oxXJoanneXxo

Summary:

Desperate to be free of the accursed chains imposed by an ancient being, Liv Drakon, the leader of an outcast clan enters into a marriage of convenience. Her husband is none other than the strongest sorcerer of today, Satoru Gojo.

What should've been a simple plan turns complicated, however. Satoru quickly realizes his wife hides more than he expected. Centuries of dangerous secrets and bloody plots unravel as Liv tries to have it all - no matter the cost.

Chapter 1: Fallen Leaves

Notes:

Hello everyone!

I'm Jo, nice to meet you! :D

Okay, so this is my first AO3 fanfic. I'm still learning the ropes when it comes to this platform so let's start with comments, hm? I'll be immensely grateful for any constructive criticism you can offer.

Quick notes about the text:

- italics - thoughts, speech spoken in any language aside from Japanese, highlight/stress/accent

- (text) - author's comments/fourth wall break

- there will be no individual character's POV; the entire text will be written from a third point of view

Disclaimer: I don't own Jujutsu Kaisen.

I wasn't sure which warnings to put so I'll say it like this - the story contains themes such as abuse, gore, non-consensual relations, toxic behavior, etc. Read at your discretion and risk.

Hope you like it!

October 1st, 2016. / 09:32 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Tokyo.

A city that nearly every person around the world knows. With a population of 13.5 million as of 2016, calling the place crowded would be an understatement. Nevertheless, Tokyo adjusted to its ever-growing populace by providing entertainment, accommodation, job opportunities, and more.

The passage of time brings about unavoidable change and is not often a good one. Modern day-to-day lifestyle is draining and negative emotions tend to swell and overflow from people's hearts, turning into vicious and monstrous abominations of the shadows as a result.

Demons, ghosts, spirits - regardless of how one calls them, they exist in this world and humans are the ones who give birth to them. Ages ago, in response to the dangers lurking in the shadows, a select group known as shamans, later jujutsu sorcerers, learned how to utilize the negative energy within their bodies. From there, they created techniques and nurtured unique abilities that were proven useful in their fight against cursed beings time and again.

The jujutsu sorcerers realized at some point that blood is key for certain abilities to manifest in people. This realization led the sorcerers to marry amongst themselves and nurture powerful bloodlines selectively. In Japan, three families enjoy the privileged status: the Gojo, the Kamo, and the Zen'in. There are others such as the Inumaki clan who, while not one of the Great Three, are still a powerful lineage with unique and exclusive abilities.

The Gojo family distinguishes itself from the other families. This clan managed to distill a perfect sorcerer, a living God on Earth for the first time in four hundred years. Inheritor of both the Limitless technique and ocular ability known as Six Eyes, Satoru Gojo is known across the jujutsu society as the greatest jujutsu sorcerer alive and currently holds the post of Gojo family head.

However, even the Great Three - including Satoru Gojo - bow their heads to the neigh-sovereignty of the jujutsu higher-ups or the Council. Comprised of the Great Three's representatives and other influential individuals, the higher-ups ensure the safety of the jujutsu society as a whole (or so they seem to propagate). Conservative by nature, the higher-ups don't enjoy the appreciation of other jujutsu sorcerers. On the other hand, they very much care if the other sorcerers do not adhere to the rules and regulations imposed by the Council, which makes Satoru Gojo the usual target of their ridicule and fury. The white-haired sorcerer is known for stirring trouble with his every breath but his latest stunt seems to twist the knickers of almost all Council members.

"This is inexcusable," one of the higher-ups barks to which the young man barely reacts. "You should have discussed this with us before any concrete decisions!"

Satoru chuckles, his blue orbs staring amusingly behind a pair of rectangle shades. "How is my life any of your business? This has nothing to do with you."

"This would've been a trivial matter if anyone else was in question," another Council member says surprisingly calmly. "Not only have you decided on behind our back but you've hidden it from us deliberately for a decade."

"Well, it wasn't deliberately per se," Satoru shrugs it off as he shoves his hands into his pants pockets. "I was young once too, you know. Such things were far off of my mind, I merely wanted time and space to think on it."

"Don't patronize us, Satoru Gojo," the rude Council member nearly barks, furiously hurling his words through the thin screen. "You used your status as leverage so you could face no opposition while pushing for this alliance."

Satoru smirks, his expression menacing. "That is a serious accusation. Why would I do that?"

"Enough of these games," the presiding Councilman says, slamming his fist against the wooden pedestal. "Satoru Gojo, what exactly is the reason behind your actions?"

The white-haired man contemplates making a snide remark or a sarcastic comeback. He has a particular punchline in mind that is hanging on the tip of his tongue. Be nice, he repeats to himself, remembering the promise he had made mere minutes before this meeting.

Sighing, Satoru puts on his most genuine, honest smile, hoping it's enough to fool the old farts, and says:

"Love."

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 10:47 / Nikko National Park, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Meanwhile, a lonesome woman observes the breathtaking Nikko National Park.

Seemingly lost in thought, her hazel-green eyes are fixated on the forest trees. She watches the leaves sway as the wind blows, surrendering to the current completely. She can smell the rich fragrance of the evergreen trees, once more bringing her back to years more innocent and pure than the ones she currently lives. Her tranquil state is interrupted by the buzzing phone in the back pocket of her pants. She fishes out the device and presses it against her ear.

"Yes," she answers in somewhat guttural language, her tone bored and uninterested. "No, I'm not in Tokyo."

The caller goes on and she politely listens. "No, I'm not going to Tokyo yet. I was hoping to enjoy my freedom for a while longer."

She goes quiet again and even pulls away her phone, seemingly uncomfortable with the volume of her caller's voice. "Pipe it down, brother. Your vocal cords will snap."

Another moment of silence follows as the person on the other side of the line says something. "Have faith. Beneath that narcissistic facade is a heart of gold."

A definitive 'no' can be heard from the device in her hand, followed by an intangible string of words that seem to be cuss words, judging from the woman's grimacing face. "Seriously, wash that mouth of yours."

After a few more minutes of needless conversation, she mutters a soft 'okay' before stuffing the device back into her pocket. Sighing, she continues to enjoy the beautiful forest ahead. Enjoy it while it lasts, she notes inwardly.

"Welcome home, mistress."

The woman hums, already aware of the intruder's presence. She doesn't even bother looking over her shoulder, knowing who it is. Home? she internally scoffs as she looks over her shoulder, her hazel eyes meeting the man's chocolate browns.

"Give me the status report, Takashi."

"It is calm, for now," the dark-haired man says, bowing slightly to her in respect. "Gojo-sama is with the Council, announcing your engagement. Preparations for the ceremony are underway at the Manor."

The woman remains passive as she says, "Thank you."

"I'm at your service, mistress," the man smiles in return.

A great honor indeed, she muses to herself somewhat sarcastically. "Keep up the good work and let me know if you need assistance."

Takashi says nothing more as he offers a final bow and excuses himself. The woman watches him over her shoulder as he walks away before disappearing behind the corner of one of the buildings. Alone once more, she continues her solemn observation of her surroundings. It won't be long now, she reminds herself in comfort (or encouragement). 

Just a few more days and it will be over.

Chapter 2: Engagement Part I

October 1st, 2016. / 13:28 / Nikko National Park, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The fair-haired woman looks at her watch, surprised it is well past noon. Shit, I'll be late, she curses before searching for her phone and then speed-dials a number. After three rings, she hears a familiar drawl from the other side of the line.

"Took you long enough," the voice says in Norwegian, obviously annoyed. "You're lucky Gojo is as nonchalant as you."

The young woman chuckles, immediately regretting it as the person on the other side of the line almost barks in response, "We're ass-deep in deadlines and responsibilities, and you're spending your time sightseeing."

"Mind your tone, Tove," The young woman says, her voice smooth. "I'm still your mistress."

"Of course, I apologize," Tove says more calmly this time. "Please, tell me you're on your way."

The woman is quiet for a moment. "That's why I called."

She hears a hum before Tove continues, "Should I let Mathias know?"

"I spoke with Mathias earlier today so he's informed," the woman says quickly.

Tove is silent for a brief while. "Are you alright?"

Define 'alright', the woman wants to say and shakes her head. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You can still call it off," comes the soft reply from her spymaster. "We can open a bar and live in peace."

"Be the wife of a wealthy aristocrat," she teases, "or swipe vomit and shit off the floor? What to choose, what to choose?"

"Could I tempt you with a mountain house then?" Tove teases in return. "It could be arranged. We'll sign a lease with Mathias's name."

The woman chuckles. 

"That would be nice," she says sadly, "but you know I can't. Until we've done our business here, I'm not going anywhere."

Tove sighs. "I know."

The woman smiles but the smile never reaches her hazel eyes. "I'll see you soon, Tove."

"Be careful, Liv," the spymaster replies softly before hanging up.

Liv blinks once, then twice. The heartfelt prayer, while appreciated, is still useless in the grand scheme of things. I can be careful to the best of my ability, she thinks bitterly while stuffing the phone back inside her bag. But in this death game, 'careful' only gets you so far. 

Taking a deep breath, she glances at the tranquil forest ahead before turning on her heel and heading to Tokyo.

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 17:31 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Japan

 

Shoko Ieiri is what one would call the epitome of 'I don't give a fuck'. As the only doctor employed by the Jujutsu High, Shoko takes care of the wounded, charting all the active sorcerers, and dissecting the deceased. With her medical knowledge and expert usage of the Reverse Cursed Technique to heal others, Shoko is a prized gem of the institution.

The woman prides herself on being impassive and unaffected by things that would easily distraught others. This is partially the reason why she studied medicine in the first place. That is why Satoru is surprised to see her shocked once he reveals his engagement to her.

He hasn't seen her shocked in years. Scratch that - he can't remember he's ever seen her shocked.

The two former classmates are at the campus clinic. The small complex is divided into several units: a morgue, Shoko's office, storage where all the sterile equipment is stored along with necessary drugs, and Shoko's room which is at her disposal for when she has long, night shifts at the clinic. They're currently in her office with Shoko sitting flabbergasted behind her desk and Satoru menspreading on the chair opposite her.

"Come again?" she breathes out, her eyes almost bulging out of her sockets.

Satoru cocks his head to the side. "I'm getting married? Didn't you hear me the first time?"

"Yeah, I heard you," Shoko says, her voice even. "I'm just checking if I heard it right."

Satoru hums. "Is it that weird that I'm engaged?"

"Yes," Shoko deadpans.

"Why?" Satoru asks dubiously.

Shoko lifts a brow. "Who'd marry you, idiot?"

Satoru is genuinely offended by her answer. He rolls his eyes under the blindfold before his head lulls backward, his neck craned at an uncomfortable angle. Shoko believes he would've been a contortionist if he wasn't a jujutsu sorcerer. The man's flexibility is at an astonishing level.

"Many women are willing to give me their hand in marriage," he hums, crossing his arms and legs.

Shoko scoffs. "If they're stupid, sure."

"You do realize you just called Liv Drakon stupid, right?" Satoru scoffs back at her.

Silence follows his question. He lifts his head just enough to peek at Shoko whose eyes have grown even larger and her mouth is slightly ajar as she stares at the white-haired man in disbelief. He chuckles.

"You look funny," he jests.

Shoko blinks.

"Surprised?" he asks, not lifting his head this time.

She swallows the lump in her throat. "I guess you could say that."

He smirks.

"When? How?" she asks incoherently. "Why?"

Satoru pouts and presses a finger against his chin as he contemplates his answer. "Ten years ago, easy, why not."

"Why not?" Shoko asks in return.

"Yeah, why not?" he chuckles again. "She's a good woman."

Debatable, Shoko agrees. "Why now?"

Satoru hums. "It seemed like the right time to break the news. You should've seen the geezers' faces - priceless!"

"I'm sure they were," Shoko mutters before asking, "Is she here?"

He is about to answer but then stops, the corner of his mouth curled downward as he remains silent. Shoko is about to ask him what's wrong but he dashes out of her office.

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 17:49 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv pushes on the brake gently and stops her car at the entrance to the campus at the foothills of Mount Mushiro. Turning the key inside the lock, the engine rumbles and then goes quiet. Taking another deep breath, Liv hesitantly reaches for the doorknob and pulls it. Every step she takes seems heavy. Her instincts are screaming at her to run, to get away as far as possible.

Walking up the stairs, she takes a good look around the campus. It is still the same, nestled deep within the forests and high in the mountains on the outskirts of Tokyo. The guise is rather believable as the school has invested in building statues of deities, shrines, and even torii gates. The entire school was built in the traditional Japanese style, which makes the school's appearance serene and inconspicuous. Duplicitous, hypocritical, and inauspicious, she finds herself rambling cynically.

After a not-so-short walk, she finally reaches the main gate of the campus. There's only a single person standing at the front. From the distance, she can't tell who it is. At first, she thinks it is Satoru as the person is wearing shades and a dark suit but she then notices the figure has a dark hair color too. As she approaches the gate, she quickly realizes that the one welcoming her is Masamichi Yaga, the current principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High and her former teacher.

Liv musters a smile for the man, greeting him in fluent Japanese. "Fancy seeing you here, sensei."

The older man smirks. "I thought I'd never see the day you step foot in this place again."

A chuckle escapes her throat. "So did I."

"Now I can say that I've seen it all in this lifetime," Masamichi shakes his head.

Liv hums. "Give it a few hours. I'm sure I'll surprise you."

"Please, don't," he comments. "Congratulations on your wedding, by the way."

Liv is quiet for a moment. "Is that the official statement?"

The man shakes his head. "No, it is an honest wish. The official statement is, and I quote, 'We're watching you'."

How original. "You standing in for the higher-ups, then?"

"No, not this time," Masamichi shook his head. "Satoru persuaded them to postpone the formalities until you've settled in."

"He didn't persuade them, he forced them," Liv corrects him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Speaking of which, where is he? He was supposed to wait for me at the gate."

Masamichi crosses his arms. "He's probably in one of the classrooms."

"Or shooting hoops at the sports hall," Liv says, figuring it could be either of those two options. "Anything else I should know?"

"Nothing at the moment," Masamichi says, cocking his head to the side. "You know the rules around here so I guess there's only that."

Liv smirks. "I won't cause too much trouble, promise."

"Don't get cute with me," he scoffs. "With you around, trouble is guaranteed."

Liv laughs. "Still have no faith in me, sensei? Come on, I'm twenty-seven, I'm a mature woman."

Masamichi gives her a blank look. "Could've fooled me."

She laughs again and Masamichi smiles in return. Liv is genuinely happy to see Masamichi again. The gruff exterior and seemingly permanent frown on the man's face never made her uncomfortable. If anything, she respected the masculine demeanor he carried himself with and the authority he commanded. Granted, she was rebellious as a teenager (much like her betrothed) and had her fair share of punishment by the current Tokyo Jujutsu High's Principal back in the day.

Nonetheless, she doesn't resent him for the misfortunes that befell her nor does she blame him, even though she knows he blames himself.

"Well," Liv says, walking toward the gate. "I'll go and look for my husband-to-be."

Masamichi nods and watches her pass him by. He presses his lips, swallowing the words he wants to say. I'm sorry. I wish I'd done more. I won't let you down again. He knows these words mean nothing to her. He hesitates to call out her name. You made a promise, he reminds himself sternly. He then turns around, his dark eyes fixed on the back of her head.

"Drakon."

She stops before her hand can reach the knob and looks over her shoulder. "Yes, sensei?"

He takes a deep breath before saying softly, "It's good to see you again and I'm truly happy for the both of you."

Though she disagrees, Liv commends his attempt at a kind gesture and ignores the latter part of his statement. "It's good to see you too, sensei."

She doesn't wait to see the saddened look on Masamichi's face as she pushes the gate open, revealing the vast courtyard of Jujutsu High. She takes a small step forward, then another. The familiarity of the place is lost on her as she feels disconnected from it. The old wooden buildings, the mown grass, the stone statues, and the pavement beneath her feet - it is foreign. It has been a long time, she muses to herself.

Even then, almost a decade ago, she felt uncomfortable on the school grounds. She was always an outsider - a student but also not a student. It was a complex situation but she found some solace in the mesmerizing visage of the school and in the people she befriended (and can hopefully still call 'friends').

Liv closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, savoring the moment. She feels the soft breeze of the wind against her cheek and the sunshine that washes her face. A whiff of sweetness passes her by. She picks up the scent of sandalwood, cinnamon, and orange. Incense? she wonders briefly. Shaking her head, she focuses on the energy surrounding her, the great barrier hiding this school from the intruding stares of the common folk - the non-sorcerers. The subtle shift between the outer and inner side of the barrier goes unnoticed by most sorcerers but Liv is highly attuned to such things, partially out of general hyperawareness.

That is why she feels Satoru's presence before her eyes spot him.

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 17:57 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Six Eyes of the Gojo family is a unique ocular ability. They simplify and amplify reality at the same time. Paired with Limitless, Satoru has a rich repertoire of skills that make him a formidable opponent on the battlefield. Another useful curiosity, courtesy of Six Eyes, is their ability to sense cursed energy in a large radius.

Every living being has a different cursed energy, unique only to them. While identifying individuals based on their cursed energy is not exclusive to Satoru, his Six Eyes give him a more precise insight into such things. He can easily discern people solely on their cursed energy even when wearing a blindfold.

Hence, Satoru sensed Liv's presence the moment her car reached the foothills of the mountain.

When he arrives in the courtyard, he finds her standing still with her eyes closed and head tilted upward. As if on cue, she lowers her gaze and sees him standing on the other side of the courtyard. It is strange. In the past, their reunions were celebrated with tight hugs and laughter. Now, they stand clueless.

Finally, after what appears to be minutes of silence and awkward stillness, Liv takes a step forward and Satoru follows suit.

Each step is heavy, weighed further by the gravity of the situation they find themselves in - they are not greeting each other as childhood playmates or comrades.

They are to be wed soon.

A short while later, they meet halfway, keeping a respectful distance from each other. Their eyes would've met had Satoru taken the liberty of pulling down his blindfold.

"Hey," she says cooly.

"Hey," he replies smoothly. "You're still kicking, I see."

She rolls her eyes. "You haven't changed a bit."

"Should I?" he muses, his arrogant streak shining through.

Her response is swift and precise as she shoves his shoulder. However, she doesn't make contact with his flesh. She taps the invisible barrier with her fingertips. The Limitlesstechnique is Satoru's innate ability while Infinity is his impenetrable bubble, a perfect shield. It lets nothing and no one in, not without his permission. Not even me, she notes with a hint of bitterness.

"Impressive," she compliments him as her hand doesn't budge against the Infinity. "Shoko told me you can even do it in your sleep."

He smirks as he says, "So Shoko gets to talk to you but I can't?"

Liv smiles forcibly. "That's 'cause I love Shoko."

Satoru comes dangerously close to her, towering over her frame. Still invading people's personal space, she notes with a sigh. It is one of Satoru's more prominent quirks, besides the obvious (white hair, unnaturally blue eyes). His height is another outlandish feature. Liv is fairly tall for a woman but she feels petite next to Satoru. Fucking giraffe. She puts some distance between them by placing her hand against his shoulder. She realizes that the Infinity is off as she can touch him without resistance.

"Better start acting like you love me," he whispers, taking her hand gently into his own. "We're being watched."

As if on cue, Liv glances around. "Yaga already warned me of the Council's gaze. You need to work on your acting game. This is cheesy, even for you."

His other arm circles her frame and brings her closer, flushing her against him. "You're making it hard by being stiff. I thought you were comfortable with touching me at least."

"It's been a while since I've seen you, give me a moment," Liv whispers as he cranes his neck, bringing his nose closer to hers. "Don't the Japanese frown on blatant PDA anyway?"

"Yes," he replies, slightly nudging her nose.

"Can you at least take that off?" she asks softly, referring to the covering that pulls back his hair, making him look like a porcupine. "It's rather rude to meet your old friend faux-blind."

Satoru is quiet as she slowly reaches for his blindfold. He stiffens at first but doesn't stop her. Instead, he lets her fingers hook under the material and pull it downward, revealing the cerulean orbs that are the Six Eyes. She almost loses her breath. She had seen his eyes many times, especially in their youth but they never fail to leave an impression.

"They twinkle," she murmurs. "That's good."

Satoru frowns as she pulls the blindfold back over his eyes. "They twinkle?"

She picks up on his teasing tone but doesn't elaborate. "Did Mathias contact you?"

He lets go of her waist as he answers. "Too often, if you ask me."

Liv chuckles. "He's nervous. Do forgive him."

Satoru hums. "Well, since it's your brother I can let it pass. I want chocolate as payment, though."

Liv smiles and for a second time today, her smile doesn't reach her eyes.

"You tired?" he asks her though he already knows the answer.

She nods. "It's been a long trip. I could use some R&R."

He chuckles and brings his arms around her again, turning her around so her back is against his chest as he envelops her in the warmth of his body. "Luckily for you, I have the dinner ready. It's your favorite."

She traces her fingers over the knuckles of his hand. "Rare?"

"Any rarer and it'd be raw," he whispers in her ear.

She rolls her eyes and groans. "You're even more obnoxious than before."

"For the sake of this marriage," he murmurs into her neck, "I'll be a pain in your ass if I must."

He then reaches for his pocket and presents her with a burgundy-colored velvet box. Curious, she takes the box from his hand and inspects it closely. She finds the side where the box opens and pushes the lid upward, revealing a thick gold band with a large oval-cut sapphire surrounded by smaller diamonds.

"You're going all-out," she says, honestly impressed with the ring.

"We're getting hitched, Liv," he says, letting her out of his embrace. "We've gotta be convincing."

He stands before her, his blindfold in his pocket and his eyes meeting hers again. He gently pulls the ring from the velvet cushions and takes her right hand into his.

"From me to you, my beloved," he whispers sarcastically, not taking his eyes off her as he slides the ring onto her ring finger. "May our love never die."

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 18:12 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

"What is your opinion, Principal Yaga?"

As requested by the Council, Masamichi went to the headquarters to report immediately after welcoming Liv on the school grounds. The marriage between Gojo and Shuuin leaders made everyone startled and confused. One is the strongest sorcerer alive with an authority problem. The other is a progeny of a long line of sorcerers with a bad relationship with the higher-ups. Their marriage irks many on the Council, with most opposing their request. Masamichi, however, isn't shocked. He has his concerns, of course, but his concerns are about the overall happiness of his former students and not the political danger of their union.

"I believe it's genuine affection. They've known each other as children and have spent a lot of time together as adolescents," he reasons. "They wouldn't be the first childhood friends that become lovers in adulthood."

"Didn't Liv Drakon almost defect with Suguru Geto nine years ago?" one of the Council members asks. "It was fairly obvious romantic feelings were involved."

Masamichi resists the urge to wince. "Her feelings for Geto clouded her judgment. She has moved on."

"First, she becomes the head of the Shuuin instead of her brother after the death of their mother," the presiding council member notes. "Then, she appoints that same brother to be the representative in the Council after they have effectively remained outside of jujutsu society for centuries. And now, she reveals a near decade-long engagement to the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. The time frame also suggests she's been involved with Gojo and Geto. These cannot be mere coincidences."

Oh for fuck's sake, Masamichi curses inwardly. "With all due respect, I doubt Liv Drakon is marrying Satoru Gojo under pretenses. Also, she volunteered to be sealed away after Geto's betrayal. She's on our side."

"She refused to fight for our side, though."

Masamichi glances at the specific member of the higher-ups, Yoshinobu Gakuganji. It is no secret that the Kyoto Jujutsu High's Principal is distrustful, traditional to the core, and indiscriminately ruthless. The man never held a particular fondness for the Shuuin mistress. He's even more antagonistic toward her than he is with Satoru.

"The Shuuin do not fight," Masamichi says. "As you well know."

"Yes, their Vow of Pacifism," Principal Gakuganji says. "Are we still going to ignore the Shuuin hiding their abilities deliberately?"

Masamichi frowns. "The Shuuin are artists. They make cursed weapons and then use them for rituals."

"They utilize spies who are borderline assassins," one of the Council members remarks. "How do you justify that?"

"That, esteemed Council, is your fault," Masamichi says evenly. "You've antagonized Shuuin for centuries and nearly exterminated them."

"They have been elusive about their worldwide exploits and operations," Principal Gakuganji says. "Eliminating the weed before it spoils the garden is the most effective way of saving the crops."

"They've never participated in any kind of confrontation," Masamichi points out. "They're not the weed, they're the epitome of civility and kindness, much like Liv Drakon."

Principal Gakuganji scoffs. "Please, Liv Drakon is the epitome of arrogance, much like her future husband."

"That is your opinion, Principal Gakuganji," Masamichi notes evenly. "Liv Drakon is not a threat you want her to be."

The Council remains quiet at his last words, visibly caught off guard. Principal Gakuganji doesn't seem a bit shaken, though. They continue to whisper among themselves, exchanging thoughts and opinions on the matter. Meanwhile, Masamichi waits for their decision.

"This Council will consider your input, Principal Yaga," the presiding Council member announces after the short discussion. "Liv Drakon and Satoru Gojo are due to report to the Council at their earliest convenience."

Masamichi nods his head, accepting the order.

"You are dismissed."

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 18:20 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

"I've asked Yaga to have the students sent either to the training grounds or on missions," Satoru says as he and Liv approach the dorms. "You know, for privacy and stuff."

Liv smiles softly. "That's nice of him."

"You're supposed to thank me," he pouts. "I get no love around here."

She chuckles but still doesn't thank him. A short while later, Satoru stops in front of a room numbered F-7. He takes out a key from his pocket and places it inside the lock. Turning it once, then twice, the lock clicks and he pushes the door open, revealing a spacious room. The room accounts for everything a single person might need: a bed, a separate bathroom, a kitchenette with a small table, and a couple of chairs. Liv wasn't allowed to sleep at the dorms like the other students but she crashed dozens of times in Shoko's bedroom. Unlike her last stay at Jujutsu High, she appreciates the fresh coating of paint and the new floors. Also, she can't smell the stale air anymore. Instead, she smells sea salt and -

"Fir," she says while sniffing.

Satoru reaches for a vial containing scented oil on the kitchen counter. "Home sweet Norway."

She silently appreciates the gesture as Satoru settles the glass vial back on the counter.

"This place hardly changed in the last several years," she says as she looks around the dorm room.

"Why would it?" Satoru muses, straddling a nearby chair. "The Council handles all of the administrative work, including the improvements. They're traditional and they lack style."

"Except for you," Liv notes, putting her backpack on a chair opposite Satoru. "Is that rain jacket a fashion statement or?"

Satoru feigns offense. "I want to look good, unlike someone I know but shall not name."

"I'm Norwegian, we're more about comfort and less about impressing others," Liv teases, leaning over the table. "Unlike someone I know but shall not name."

Unaffected, Satoru rests his chin atop his crossed arms. "You still have your silver tongue."

"It is my best quality," Liv surmises. 

He smirks, his next words smooth and needlessly sensual, "Among other things."

The blatant flirting has been part of Satoru's personality since he was in high school so she finds it more amusing than flattering.

"Sorry loverboy," she says coyly. "Your charms don't work on me."

Satoru scoffs, leaning backward while holding onto the back of the chair. "You slept with me. How do you explain that?"

"I asked you if you wanted to and your scrawny ass said 'yes'," Liv challenges, her hazel eyes focused on him. "That wasn't charm, it was an arrangement."

"You keep telling yourself that," he teases.

"I worry for your students," Liv says, half-serious. "Such a bad example, tsk."

He gasps, again dramatically. "I believe I've grown on them."

"Like fungus, I'd wager," Liv mutters loud enough for him to hear.

She looks outside the window of her room, noticing an eerie black bird perched on the railings. It eyes her directly from where it's perched.

"We have company," she notes, nodding toward the bird.

Staying at the dorm overnight was Satoru's idea. Liv believes it's mostly to annoy the higher-ups but her betrothed argues they should flaunt their engagement to make it more believable. She doesn't see the logic of his argument as it's unnecessary peacocking but she obliged his request nonetheless. They both knew the elders would keep a close eye on them yet, she didn't expect the higher-ups to spy on them with Mei Mei's crows of all things. How much did they pay her for this? she wonders briefly. Knowing Mei Mei, Liv is certain the woman has overcharged them anyway.

"Let's give them a show," Satoru teases and extends his hand to her. "Try to be a bit more touchy-feely, make it believable."

Liv frowns but takes his hand nonetheless. With a swift tug, he brings her into his lap and she takes a deep breath, ignoring how foreign it is to be this close to him.

"You don't trust me either," she half-whispers as if she doesn't believe her own words. "At least, not entirely."

Satoru notices her tone. He also sees the way her eyes have become more piercing. The air suddenly grows cold, the lightness of their banter turning heavy, reminding them how much things have changed between them. The realization hits them harder than they thought it would.

"The most I've heard from you all these years was through postcards," he points out evenly. "At this point, Shoko knows more about you and I've known you since we were five."

He can see her push her jaw forward, a tick of hers when she gets mad. "You didn't have to accept my proposal, Satoru Gojo."

"We want the same thing, Liv Drakon," he says, tracing her jawline with his index finger. "I know you won't screw me over but since I've agreed to dance with you, I'd like to know the steps before I get to the ball."

"My brother will be my eyes and ears inside the Council as a representative of the Shuuin," Liv says, trying to keep her tone steady and polite. "They won't be able to take a shit without us knowing."

"I don't need to know their bowel movement schedule," Satoru retorts, holding her chin between his index and middle finger. "I need to have them on our side or out of my way at the very least."

"And Mathias can ensure us that," Liv argues, tracing his blindfold tentatively, adjusting to the feeling of touching him again.

"Mathias becoming Council member if he even becomes one, is useless at this point," Satoru notes callously.

"The Shuuin never had a Council representative until now," Liv argues. "It is a sign of our goodwill and transparency."

"They won't buy that bullshit," he scoffs. "I don't buy that bullshit."

"We're talking long-term effects, Gojo," Liv retorts, clasping her hands behind his neck. "What's useless now may become instrumental tomorrow."

"And us getting married?" he asks, holding her waist. "I still don't see how beneficial this marriage is long-term and you still haven't told me why you need this marriage."

"You can call it off," she answers evenly. "If you think any other clan will support your ideals, feel free to marry a Zen'in or a Kamo."

"No need for insults," his grin turns menacing as his grip on her waist tightens. "You're testing my patience, Liv."

"And you mine," she says slowly. "The Shuuin preach peace and harmony, and with our support, you won't appear as a power-hungry egomaniac but a man who just wants to do the right thing."

"I am doing the right thing," he whispers, his voice smooth as he puts his hand on the back of her neck and nudges her closer so their noses are touching. "And you are hiding something from me."

Liv smirks, her lips close enough to kiss his. "Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Wouldn't it be fun to find out?"

That particular question throws him off. It's not often he finds himself at a loss for words but whenever he does, it is mostly because of the fair maiden sitting in his lap now.

Suddenly, he hears his phone buzzing inside his pocket. Pulling the device out, he reads the ID on the display and frowns before answering the call. The conversation lasts only a few seconds before he hangs up with a mere 'fine' said under his breath.

"The old farts want to see us together in the headquarters so dress up nicely," he says after a while.

"How much time do I have?" she asks as she stands.

"As much as you need to get ready," he says standing up. "I'll change in the room next door. Text me when you're done."

She says nothing as he turns on his heel and heads toward the door. Once he's out of the room, as if she'd been holding her breath the entire time, Liv lets out a deep sigh.

"This will be harder than I thought," she mutters as she rubs her eyes.

Chapter 3: Engagement Part II

October 1st, 2016. / 19:25 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Mathias warned Liv to be presentable and elegant for her audience with the Council so she picked a dark purple knee-length fitted dress with delicate golden chains stitched on the shoulder pads and a single red spider lily, the Shuuin signature emblem, embroidered just under her jugular dip. The dress is modest but it accentuates her natural feminine features.

Liv shifts her shoulders and hips, as if wiggling will make the dress feel better against her skin. When it doesn't, she sighs in defeat and focuses instead on her hair. Unbraiding it, she goes through the fair locks with her fingers. She wonders if the comb will do a better job but she doesn't have one. She separates the hair down the middle of her scalp and takes two front sections, leaving them out as she pulls back the rest of the locks. Looking in the mirror again, she checks if her bun is tight and neat before she braids the left-out strands. She then twists the two braids before tying them around the bun and pushing the free ends under.

Taking a deep breath, Liv flattens her skirt before reaching inside her handbag. She looks at the ring on her finger, tracing the surface of the large sapphire with her other hand, its color reminding her of Satoru's eyes. Shaking away the intrusive thoughts, she takes her phone to text Satoru but realizes she doesn't have his number. Clicking her tongue, she looks in the mirror before leaving her room. She pauses, taking a deep breath before knocking twice on Satoru's door.

A few heartbeats pass before he answers. He says nothing at first, merely staring at her over his glasses which she notices are not round like he sported before but squared. An image of Satoru as a teen flashes before her eyes and she realizes that he hasn't changed much over the years. His taste is certainly more refined, giving away the quiet luxury vibe as he wears dark dress pants and a baby-blue button-up shirt. His height is domineering but enticing and it doesn't help that his physique is also impressive; not bulky but not a beansprout like she remembers him. Damn, he's fine, she notes with a hint of jealousy.

"Like what you see?"

You're still a prick though. "I've seen better."

He chuckles. "Sure you did."

She rolls her eyes as he takes his phone and keys before closing the door of his room. He offers his left arm to her and while hesitant, she takes it.

"Ready?" he asks, eyeing the ring on her ring finger.

Liv takes a deep breath. "Can I say no?"

"You're not alone in this, Liv," Satoru says, his tone seemingly sincere. "I got your back."

"I hope so," she whispers. "For the sake of us both."

Satoru frowns and ponders whether she's referring to his first or second sentence. She doesn't answer and pulls him by his bicep to start walking.

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 18:11 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The Shuuin Manor is bustling with people, most of them being members of the clan and Shuuin spies. The rest are contractors and hired help that Mathias arranged in preparation for his sister's wedding ceremony. Liv was very clear about the extent of the ceremony - the bare minimum, according to the Shuuin. Mathias doesn't bother about the various traditions the family has practiced over the centuries and merely focuses on the key points: officiant, witnesses, and location.

The Manor is a nice place, nestled in the mountains fifty kilometers from Nikko. Isolated and away from civilization, it has maintained its peace for centuries. While abandoned for the better part of the year, the Shuuin hold annual ceremonies at their ancestral home: maintaining barriers around the premises and honoring the ancestors. Even then, only the elders and the mistress are present. Curiously, nearly all Shuuin will be present at the wedding. Mathias himself was surprised when most of them confirmed their attendance. Even their cousins from Florida who ignored the Far East since their ancestors colonized the Western continent extended their wishes to witness the joining of two clans.

Mathias arrived at the Manor earlier this morning, exhausted from the flight which lasted over fifteen hours. Luckily, the Shuuin clan's wealth allows certain luxuries, such as first-class plane tickets. Granted, the clan leader is in charge of the finances, and only a select few have free access to the bank account. Being a brother to the Shuuin mistress has its perks. Nonetheless, he's not a mooch - he's an honest workaholic.

He decided to handle the cleaning of the house first. Several spies are at it already, rubbing the floors and dusting the corners. The furniture needs a good vacuuming and the kitchen could use some treatment that doesn't include water and clean cloth. Apart from the cleaning, Mathias employed professional cleaners to handle the main hall. He doesn't want to give another reason to the fat-headed higher-ups to call the Shuuin 'barbaric' and 'uncivilized'.

Sighing, Mathias silently observes the work at the Manor from the backyard. He's never seen that many people at the Manor at once - it is a strange sight.

"Herre."

Mathias hums in response, recognizing Tove's voice. "Ja?"

Tove stares at his back as her frown deepens on her brow. Though he can't see her, Mathias can almost hear her brow furrow and he knows why - not like she is trying to hide her thoughts as of late.

"You are worried," he says softly.

Her honey-brown eyes look down. "Yes."

"No need to be," he says, turning around. "Everything is going according to plan."

And yet, Tove remains stiff in place, her anxiety more than apparent. Mathias presses his lips as he reaches for her shoulders.

"She's the mistress of the Shuuin, Tove," he says softly. "We follow her wherever and whenever she decides, even when we don't want to."

Tove nods. "I know."

The older Drakon sibling gives her a pat on the shoulder. "We have thirteen days to finish this. Try to focus on that instead."

Tove hums and then nods. "Yes, sir."

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 19:32 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv gets more fidgety the closer she and Satoru get to the headquarters. She half-hoped she didn't have to report to them, at least not personally. Between the wedding preparations and the expected shock that followed the engagement announcement, she didn't want to deal with higher-ups picking on her. Luckily, she knows what to expect and despite having the worst possible accomplice, she's not doing it alone.

"Do you think Gakuganji will pop an aneurysm when he hears he's invited to the ceremony?" Satoru laughs, his eyes almost tearing up from laughter. "Oh boy, I'd pay to see that!"

Liv scoffs. "Please, he'll asphyxiate the moment I step inside that room."

"You're probably right," Satoru chuckles, his laughter easing up. "Damn, I don't want to talk to them."

"Me neither," Liv groans. "Let me do most of the talking. You'll get on their nerves too quickly."

"But then I'll be bored," Satoru whines. "Not to mention, I'll look like an imbecile hiding behind your skirt."

Liv sighs. "Stand and be pretty, Gojo."

His smirk unnerves her. "So you do think I'm pretty?"

She whacks him just as they reach the front porch of the council chamber. He winces and she calls him a baby in response.

"Behave," she says sternly, glaring at him before taking a deep breath.

Satoru fixes his collar, giving her a toothy grin, his words sarcastic as he says, "Yes, dear."

Liv rolls her eyes before they climb the stairs and step onto the porch. She lets go of Satoru's arm briefly to open the shogi door but is stopped by her betrothed. He gives her his signature grin before opening the door. Gallantry is not something Satoru practiced before so she is rather taken aback by the gesture.

"What happened to you?" she asks as she enters the short hallway, closely followed by him.

Satoru closes the door before answering her, "What do you mean?"

She scoffs. "Don't play dumb. Since when are you a gentleman?"

He hums, seemingly in thought. "I've always been one."

Liv gave him a cold stare, visibly doubtful.

The Gojo head smirks. "The geezers are waiting for us, come on."

Despite wanting to argue, she makes a sour face when she notes that he's right for once. As such, she holds his arm again, the ring visible as they enter the dark chamber. They walk until they reach the center of the room where Liv counts six screens around them, each for one Councilman. One figure is standing in plain view and she resists the urge to scowl at them.

"We've been expecting you for quite some time, Liv Drakon," comes a raspy remark from what Liv recognizes as Principal Gakuganji.

"Apologies, I've come as soon as I could," she offers a curt bow to the Council, her hold on Satoru's arm tightening. "We're here to report to the esteemed Council."

Satoru says nothing.

"Very well," the presiding Council member says. "Seeing as the Shuuin clan has decided to partake in the jujutsu society, there are certain things you will have to disclose to the Council, Liv Drakon. We've chosen Principal Yaga to interview you later so we remind you to cooperate."

"Yes, sir," Liv says politely.

He continues. "As we understand, your ancestral home near Nikko is intended to serve as a venue, yes?"

"Yes," Liv answers, her tone light. "My clan members will handle the preparations for the wedding. It would be a simple and modest event but we would be honored to have you come as our guests."

"That's a rather generous offer," Principal Gakuganji notes sarcastically.

"Merely an olive branch, Principal Gakuganji," Liv says while bowing her head, the lies rolling off her tongue like honey. "As the current head, I wish to foster better relations."

The Council remains silent as they observe her closely. Liv can feel their eyes on her and their evident scrutiny.

"We've also been notified that there will be no change in your respective titles," the presiding council member says.

Before Liv can answer, Satoru says, "That's right. Liv will remain the Shuuin mistress and I won't abandon my position as the head of the Gojo family."

"Will your partner assume a secondary post as the Lady of the Gojo clan?" the presiding Council member asks.

Liv looks at Satoru who smirks in response, "The title of Lady Gojo is symbolic. The clan head's word is final on all matters concerning the clan itself."

Typical, Liv thinks sarcastically to herself, once again reminded that the Gojo's are one of the Great Three Jujutsu Families.

"What of your work as a teacher, Gojo?" Principal Gakuganji asks suspiciously. "Having an offspring is a liability for an active sorcerer, especially for someone of your caliber."

Liv is startled by the sudden mention of children - their children. You knew that they would mention it, she chastises herself. Get a grip.

Satoru, however, remains unfazed as he answers, "I'm the strongest sorcerer alive, Principal Gakuganji. If and when my bride and I decide to have children, they will wish for nothing and you will still have me at the front lines."

"A tall order," Principal Gakuganji notes, his tone echoing his surprise. "I sincerely hope you will deliver."

"I will," Satoru says as he lifts Liv's right hand and kisses her knuckles. "After all, I'm doing this for love."

Though she knows he's blatantly lying to them, his tone is impeccably sincere. You're not the worst accomplice after all.

"Spare us the theatricality," Principal Gakuganji says, cooly.

"I'm merely telling the truth, Principal Gakuganji," Satoru says with a smile.

"What my betrothed means to say is," Liv continues, "we hope you'll rejoice in our wedding as much as we do already."

The Councilmen talk among themselves, passing bits of parchment from one to the other. The murmuring of their hushed voices is rude and Liv is furious at having to bow to them. She unconsciously grips Satoru's arm tighter and he responds by placing his opposite hand on hers. Her eyes meet his for a moment and he offers a reassuring smile. She doesn't believe him but still feels the tension in her body alleviate as they wait for the Council's verdict.

"We will announce the Council's decision regarding your requests," the presiding Council member says.

Liv and Satoru exchange looks again.

"The Council approves of your request to marry and to have Mathias Drakon represent clan Shuuin on the Council," the presiding Council member announces calmly. "However, if we deem your actions deceitful at any point after the wedding, you will be brought in before the Council as traitors and treated as such. Understood?"

Both Liv and Satoru nod.

"We wish you the best of luck," the presiding Council member says. "Liv Drakon, Satoru Gojo. You are dismissed."

Satoru doesn't bother to bow as he puts his arm on Liv's back and gently pulls her outside.

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 19:41 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

News spread like wildfire and within hours, the entire jujutsu society's upper echelons are aware of the upcoming union between Satoru Gojo and Liv Drakon.

Gossip arises, the stories are fabricated - everyone is talking about them. Speculations are being thrown left and right, and theories are devised to explain how and why these two completely different people with no prior romantic history suddenly reveal decade-long engagement. Of course, most of it is blatant lies, made-up fiction to feed the deviant and insane minds of the jujutsu society.

Nevertheless, to ensure no false claims are spread, Masamichi and Shoko decide to inform the other sorcerers privately beforehand. Masamichi handles the active jujutsu sorcerers, mostly those who are close acquaintances of the two. That includes the staff at Jujutsu High and Satoru's students. Shoko handles the contacts outside Tokyo, which include Utahime Iori, a teacher at the Kyoto branch, and Satoru's wards - Megumi and Tsumiki Fushiguro.

The former teacher and student meet up at a gazebo overlooking the HQ. Liv and Satoru are still inside as the meeting with the higher-ups is ongoing. Masamichi is ever stoic, his hands clasped behind his back and his posture stiff but straight. Shoko is very relaxed, leaning on (or rather, hanging off of) the gazebo's railing. They appear calm as if nothing is bothering them.

However -

"You don't believe this bullshit any more than I do," Shoko grumbles, her eyes fixed on the HQ's building. "Do you, Principal?"

Masamichi grunts. "Language, Shoko."

She smirks. "Pardon my French. So, do you?"

A moment passes in silence as Masamichi thinks carefully of his answer. "I'd like to believe it's true but I agree, something is missing from this story."

"Why lie to the Council, then?" she asks bluntly. "I'd go along with any crazy idea they come up with so what's your excuse?"

He almost chuckles in response. "Maybe this is what I want for them?"

"To be married to each other?" Shoko quirks a brow.

"To be happy," Masamichi corrects her, "or at least comforted. Heavens know, both of them need it."

Shoko hums and while she disagrees, she understands his logic.

"Think the others believe them?" she inquires further, flexing her fingers.

Masamichi shakes his head. "I wouldn't know. Kento almost laughed when I told him, believe it or not."

Shoko turns around to face the man. "For real?"

He nods slowly. "He said that I check if Liv is possessed."

This makes Shoko laugh. "That's so like him."

Masamichi sighs. "Honestly, they don't even care if we doubt them. This, whatever it is, is not meant to fool us."

"You mean, we're the least of their troubles," Shoko counters.

"Rather," Masamichi sighs as he sees the said couple leaving the HQ hand in hand and toward the dorms, "I think they're counting on us to be there when the real trouble starts."

Shoko frowns. "Think there will be trouble?"

He scoffs. "With those two? No doubt."

She doesn't like his answer.

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 20:13 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Once back at the dorms, Liv and Satoru return to their room to refresh before dinner. Put on something comfortable, Satoru said jokingly. You look good but you also look like you're suffocating. While the words sounded like a jab at her appearance, Liv couldn't disagree with the man - she was suffocating. That said, she quickly got out of the blue prim-and-proper cut and donned high-raise loose-fitted jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Her wardrobe is limited to the contents of her duffel bag. The rest is at the Manor with her other personal belongings.

She knocks on Satoru's door twenty minutes later. He is now sporting a loose black v-neck shirt and grey cargo pants. That's not fair, she whines inwardly, noting how her fiance would look good even if he wore an inflated trash bag as a dress.

"My lady," he greets her oh-so-charmingly, inviting her inside his room.

She tries not to scoff as she passes him by before he closes the door behind her. Once inside, her eyes glance at the set-up table ahead.

True to his word, Satoru has dinner ready.

It isn't what Liv had in mind when he said 'dinner' though.

"Gojo," she says plainly, pointing to the dish at the table in his room. "What's this?"

He grins. "Dinner."

Liv looks at him, then at 'dinner' then back at him. "This ain't dinner."

Satoru rolls his eyes. "Sheesh, you're such a plebian. We have to sharpen your tastes. I won't have you share more in common with a Bushman than with me."

"I beg your pardon?!" Liv cries out. "I'm not the one serving finger food as dinner!"

"It's high-end gourmet cooking," Satoru corrects her, pulling out the seat for her. "now if you'd be so kind - "

Liv sighs as she takes his offer and makes herself comfortable. He pushes her chair gently forward before circling the table and sitting on the chair opposite from her. She takes a look at the table, taking in the colorful dishes. Aside from the main dish, which seemed to be rare steak slices arranged in the shape of a rose flower in bloom and surrounded by multiple different colored sauces, there is a charcuterie board, a bottle of red and white wine respectfully, a bowl of grapes, a saucier with olive oil and minced garlic, and a spice rack with salt and pepper.

Liv quirks a brow. "Gojo, what is - "

"Just try it," he says, using chopsticks to pick a piece of the meat.

Still somewhat dubious, she hesitates to take a bite. He is patient, however. Another moment later, Liv leans in and slowly takes the bite.

"Well?" Satoru asks, a satisfied grin on his face. "How is it?"

She hums. "It's excellent but I can't taste char at all."

He smirks before picking another piece of meat and dipping it into the black sauce. "Try it like this."

She doesn't hesitate with the second bite, opening her mouth. The taste of the sauce is very familiar.

"Truffle?" she asks and he nods. "I still can't tell what the deal is with the steak, though."

Satoru dips his chin, looking at her over his lowered glasses. "Sous vide - vacuum cooking."

She eyes him in surprise. "Is that why the meat is so tender?"

"Try the green sauce," he says instead but she doesn't mind him changing topics, reaching for the light green sauce as he instructs.

She picks another piece of steak with her chopsticks and dips it into the green sauce. It doesn't take her long to recognize the flavor.

"Lemon butter," she says in awe. "I normally pair it with fish, though."

Satoru's voice is soft and velvety as he says, "You like it, then?"

She struggles not to smile. "My compliments to the chef."

Satoru smirks. Unknown to her, he made the entire course himself. While he wants to show off, he says nothing.

"How are the kids?" she asks suddenly, referring to the orphans he adopted as his wards.

Satoru grins. "They're great. You should meet them, now that you're here."

Liv smiles. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

"I can't promise you much, though," he says as he stuffs his mouth with a neat arrangement of cheese, crackers, and grapes. "Tsumiki will probably stick to being polite and Megumi could very well ignore you after introductions. He's in that phase, being all moody and angsty."

Liv chuckles in response. "Should I tempt him with a cake, then? His birthday is coming up soon anyway."

For a moment, she sees Satoru's eyes slightly widen as he gives her a crooked smile. "You remember that?"

"How could I not?" she scoffs, pointing at him. "You sent me a picture of you three on his tenth birthday. By the way, stickers on your cheeks really bring out your eyes."

"Thanks, Liv," Satoru pouts, looking away. "You only remember the stupid stuff when it comes to me."

"And that doesn't tell you something?" she asks teasingly, lacing her fingers under her chin.

She laughs again as he rambles. Liv doesn't quite listen to him, partially because she remembers all the times she made fun of him over the years. Fifteen minutes into his monologue, Liv notices her phone ringing. She hesitates to answer as Satoru is still talking. Satoru, however, grows annoyed with the constant ringing.

"Just pick up the damn call," he mumbles, adding, "and change that ringtone."

She merely rolls her eyes as she answers her phone. "Hello?"

Satoru can hear a loud 'Liv' echoing from her device.

"Shoko?" Liv asks with a chuckle and then puts a finger in her opposite ear as if struggling to hear the woman on the other side of the line. "Where are you? I can't hear a word you say."

The woman in question is leaning on a bar with her who-knows-how-many-after-the-first-one drink. She has a smile on her face and her tired eyes are just slightly blurry. There is one more woman,  sporting the same smile and misty eyes.

"You're missing a party, Liv," Shoko yells. "Leave that trash of a fiance! Come with me and Utahime!"

"Utaimen? Who the hell is - " Liv asks, frowning and when Shoko repeats her last sentence, Liv makes an 'o' shape with her mouth. "Oh, Utahime! Isn't she in Kyoto?"

"She has a day off so she came to Tokyo! We're at Tasuichi, I'll send you the address," Shoko yells while Utahime hangs off her shoulder, calling out Liv's name. "They're streaming a baseball match, it's hectic!"

Liv chuckles. The prospects of seeing her friends after so many years, drinking, and relaxing appeal to her immensely.

"Sounds good," she says with a smile. "I'll meet you there soon."

The line goes dead and she sets her phone down. She notices Satoru staring at her, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed. He is displeased though she can't tell with what exactly. Her phone then lights up and she reads a message from Shoko containing the address and location link of the bar they're at.

"I should get changed," she says, ignoring his glares.

He says nothing.

"You're free to come along if you want to," she continues.

He exhales through his nose. "Nah, I don't want to crash a girls' night out. I'll take you there and pick you up when you're done."

"You don't have to do that," she says quickly. "Thanks for offering, though."

"I want to," he replies. "Besides, Satoru Gojo's bride shouldn't be alone on the streets of Tokyo in the middle of the night."

Liv wants to point out that she doesn't need a babysitter. She then remembers Utahime's voice screaming her name on the other side of the line and the possibility of her friend being inebriated already. Having a reliable lift back home is always a plus.

"Alright," she says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "My car is parked at the bottom of the mountain."

Satoru lifts a brow as if confused by her statement. "Why should I care where your car is parked?"

She squints her eyes. "Because we need it to get there?"

The Six Eyes wielder laughs and Liv finds the sound of his laughter reminiscent of the one she heard all the time when they were younger.

"We're not driving there, Liv," he says with a smile. "Meet me in the hallway when you're done."

Liv frowns, still confused but acquiesces to his plan by leaving his room. How are we supposed to get there? she wonders as she heads to her room. On foot?

 

///

 

October 1st, 2016. / 21:11 / Tasuichi Bar, Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan

 

They arrive atop the building where the Tasuichi bar is located at 21:11.

They left Jujutsu High also at 21:11.

"What just happened?" Liv asks, completely lost in time and space.

Satoru lets go of her waist and pats her right shoulder. "It's been eight years. I can do a bunch of cool stuff now."

She glances at him sideways. "You flew the last time we saw each other. What the fuck is this?"

He chuckles, amused at her lack of awareness of his abilities. "Limitless, Liv. I just got better at it."

"To the point you can teleport?" she asks, her voice unintentionally tilted.

Satoru clicks his tongue. "I can't teleport literally. I move at a high speed by displacing the point of gravity. It's like conjuring a magnet and letting it do what it does."

"That must be some superb magnet," she mutters.

"It's a bit more complex than that," Satoru notes.

Liv scoffs and brushes away the hand that still lingers on her shoulder. "It always is with you."

Satoru retrieves his hand. "Really? I think I'm a rather easy-to-understand person."

"Being simplistic and being understood are two different things, Gojo," she says while fixing up the collar of her jacket.

"Which am I, in your opinion?" he asks, his voice low.

She doesn't look at him as she says, "Why ask when you already know the answer?"

The conversation ends there, with both sides finding it unnecessary. Liv thanks Satoru for dropping her at the bar and invites him again to join her and the others. He politely declines and promises to pick them up whenever they decide to go home. They exchange phone numbers before Liv turns on her heel and jumps off the building, joining her friends at the bar.

Satoru disappears from the building rooftop not long after.

The moment Liv enters the Tasuichi bar, she is spotted by her friends and subsequently crushed by Utahime's bear hug.

"You could've at least let me know you're coming," the scarred woman pouts, nestling in Liv's shoulder.

"It worked out in the end," Liv teases and earns a chuckle from both women.

The three sit at the table in the quiet corner of the bar. Rounds of beer are ordered and the trio is more than happy to drink them at once. Inebriation lasts for only so long however as Shoko and Utahime are understandably curious about certain things - Utahime especially as she heard only bits and pieces from Shoko.

"Please tell me you're marrying him for money," Utahime groans, pressing her palms together in a praying manner.

Shoko sighs, taking a sip of her beer. "She's already rich, Utahime-senpai."

The scarred woman is stunted. "Oh."

Liv chuckles as Utahime sighs and leans on her closed fist. "Now, I can't think of any reasons for you to marry that bastard."

"Well, he's got a stellar lineage, immense power, and influence," Liv lists, twirling her pint of beer in circles. "He's good on the eyes, so that's a plus."

"Yeah but still," Utahime groans. "What in the world were you thinking of accepting Gojo's proposal?"

"He didn't propose," Liv blurts out, tactfully as always.

Both women cock their heads in confusion.

Liv looks outside while sipping her beer. "I proposed to him, technically."

Their jaws slack.

"Is there a video?" Utahime asks half-seriously. "I want to see that."

"I don't," Shoko adds with a hint of disgust. "It must've been embarrassing."

Liv recalls that auspicious day and chuckles. "It probably would've been if there were other people present. Looking back, I was quite dramatic."

Utahime quirks a brow. "I thought the Gojo's were selective about marriage candidates. I'm surprised they accepted this."

Liv scoffs, remembering the three-day negotiations between Mathias and the Gojo elders. "Oh, they are selective."

"But they can't say shit to Gojo," Shoko points out and the three women laugh.

"Still, you could've done better than Gojo," Utahime continues. "You'll have to deal with fangirls."

"Fanboys, too," Shoko rolls her eyes and takes a swig of her drink. "The guy is such an attention whore."

"Come on," Liv says teasingly. "You're just jealous he gets more attention from women than you."

Shoko rolls her eyes before laughing as well. "Well, I still get more attention from the men in comparison so that's a point for me."

"Well, then," Utahime asks dubiously, "what have you been up to all these years, great mistress of the Shuuin? Besides getting married with the worst possible excuse for a man in the world."

Liv smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. "Oh you know, on the road mostly."

"Shoko tells me you spent the last few years in New Orleans," Utahime asks, her eyes bright with childlike curiosity. "Got any stories from the Crescent City?"

Liv smirks in response. "Plenty."

This grabs the attention of her two friends so Liv indulges their curiosity by retelling some of the more noteworthy stories from her time in the famous city on the Mississippi River. From parties to the carnivals and cuisine. She tells them about her cousins from Louisiana, the French Quarter, the music, and the art.

The recalling of her fondest memories makes her feel nostalgic. For a moment, she wishes to go back to New Orleans.

"I'll take you there," she says softly, before sighing. "Soon, hopefully."

Utahime beams at her, clapping her hands excitedly. Liv chuckles at her senpai, finding her expression adorable. Shoko then nods her head approvingly, before lifting her drink.

"To Liv Drakon," she says. "It's good to have you back."

Liv's cheeks are dusted with pink flush as she raises her drink to Shoko's toast, clinking the glass tankards. Utahime follows suit, bringing her beer into the gathering.

"To us being together again," Utahime cheers, her eyes soft as she glances at the Shuuin mistress.

Genuinely touched by Utahime's words, Liv feels her throat slightly tighten as she hums in response, "To all my friends who are still not sick of me."

A round of laughter erupts at their table as they take a swig of their drinks. The merriment lasts well into the night, with them swapping tales and anecdotes to fill in the blanks and missed moments in each other's lives. As the amount of empty steins increases, the women start to get decently drunk and the topics of their conversation get exponentially more PG-R-rated. They gossip, and gossip, and gossip some more until they realize it's well past midnight and the bar is getting closed.

"No," Utahime whines as she holds onto Shoko who herself is holding onto Utahime. "I want t' drink some more!"

Shoko laughs at her senpai as she hiccups, a tell-tale sign of Utahime reaching her limit of alcohol intake. Any more sips and she will be puking out all of her stomach's contents on the pavement. Shoko holds down her liquor much better than either of the women but even Liv can tell that it's perhaps for the best if they just hit the bed.

"How 'bout we leave that for some other time?" Liv asks, stumbling as she searches for her phone.

Utahime pouts, her eyes glossy and her skin flushed. "I don' wanna - "

"Come on, senpai," Shoko nudges the older woman gently though even that much force is enough to make them sway dangerously to one side before Shoko pulls them upright. "Drakon won't ditch us again. We have all the time in the world now."

Utahime stares at Liv, her gaze squinted, like she doubts Shoko's previous statement. "We'll see."

Shoko then turns to Liv. "Call us a cab or somethin'."

Liv nods, her head bobbing excessively and making her dizzy. As she finally finds her phone, Liv unlocks the device and begins to dial a taxi number. Realizing she knows none by heart, Liv asks the other two for help. However, in their current state, the women can remember a single taxi service in the city. After a long while of thinking (courtesy of the alcohol they've been drinking, again), Liv remembers that Satoru has offered to pick them up.

Happy to have found a solution, she starts to search for his name on her contacts list. It takes her several rereads as her vision is slightly blurry.

"A-ha," she exclaims as she opens the chat box. "Got ya'!"

She begins to type a message when a wave of inspiration hits her. Influenced by her last conversation with the other two women, Liv beckons them to lean in so she can take a selfie.

"Who's that?" Utahime drawls as she and Shoko walk over unceremoniously.

Liv clicks her tongue as she ushers them. "Just - ah, get over here!"

As they huddle together, the trio looks at Liv's phone, putting on what they think is a smiley face (they look positively drunk, no room for doubts). However, as they struggle with weight distribution, they stumble onto the pavement, their buts hitting the concrete uncomfortably. They laugh nonetheless, their giggles leaving them almost breathless.

 

///

 

October 2nd, 2016. / 02:20 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru groans in frustration and falls back on his king-sized bed.

He is at his penthouse in Roppongi, finding it meaningless to go to school. He knows the higher-ups will notice if he's alone without his bride on the school grounds. The change of scenery also helps him relax a bit as he has spent the entire day fishing out answers from Liv.

"Should I trust her," he wonders for the umpteenth time today while staring at the ceiling, "or should I not trust her?"

He wants to trust her and knows the risk he's taking, marrying a sorcerer who cannot fight. Then again, that woman can talk her way out of any situation, he thinks to himself. If her charm fails, she has her spies.

"Please," he whispers, praying to whatever deity that may be listening to him rambling in the middle of the night. "Please, let her have some secret ultra-super-duper-sonic cursed technique in her arsenal."

He hears a familiar 'ting' sound coming from his phone. He stretches his hand to the nightstand where the device has been resting dangerously close to the edge. Unlocking the phone, he first notices the time - 02:27 - and then the name on the message pop-up notification - Liv Drakon. Satoru frowns and purses his lips as he opens the message.

He groans.

Liv has sent him a blurry picture of herself, Utahime, and Shoko, sitting on a sidewalk, all of them having drunken smiles on their faces and all of them red from the booze they probably over-indulged in. The picture itself doesn't unnerve him as much as the text underneath.

From: Liv Drakon

pick us up

He rolls his eyes and then sighs as the next message comes in.

From: Liv Drakon

mr trouser snake

Satoru's eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets.

"You little bitch," he curses in disbelief.

By the time he picks them up, Satoru has gone over at least a dozen scenarios in which he obliterates Liv Drakon. He arrives in front of the Tasuichi bar in twenty minutes with his car. Because I sure as hell ain't gonna teleport their drunk asses back to school one by one. However, teleporting Utahime to a random place in Kyoto is tempting.

Little else happens afterward: they climb their way to the school from the foothills (Utahime and Shoko talk his ear off for not wanting to teleport them and spare them the climb), Shoko takes Utahime by hand to her room which is adjacent to the morgue (a morbid thought but Utahime, in her drunken state, doesn't much care at this point) and Liv and Satoru retreat to the dorm with him walking her to her bed. He doesn't miss out on the chance to chew her out for using the ridiculous nickname a then-virgin sixteen-year-old Satoru christened his dick with.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" he asks as he fumbles with the keys to her dorm room while holding her upright with his one hand.

Liv giggles and then hiccups as she pokes his cheek. "Aww, you're embarrassed. Don' worry, I tol' 'em nothin'."

"Trouser Snake, Liv," he says slowly, his tone almost menacing. "You better have not. I've buried that information in the farthest parts of my brain."

"Yeah, well," she drawls with a large grin. "Your dir'y secret is safe with me."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he curses and opens the door of her room. "How is it that Shoko brings out the annoying side of you?"

"You're whinin' 'cause she likes me more than she likes you," Liv mumbles as Satoru pulls back the covers on her bed before helping her sit down.

"I'm more concerned that you like her more than me," he scoffs as she nestles her head on the pillow. "How did you even remember that while drunk?"

"We were talkin' 'bout guys' epic fails durin' sex," she says matter-of-factly, shrugging.

He walks into the bathroom to bring her a bucket should she get nauseous. "I still can't believe you remember that."

"It was our first time," she mumbles into her duvet. "'Course I remember it."

"It wasn't that big of a deal," Satoru shakes his head, himself tired and wanting to sleep.

He tucks her in (at her request) and says 'good night' (after she says it) before turning on his heel and leaving her room. As he reaches for the doorknob, he hears her calling his name.

His first name.

"Satoru," she almost whimpers.

It takes him a while to respond. "Yeah, Liv?"

She bites her lower lip. "Do you regret our first time?"

He turns around, his face unreadable. "What?"

"You said it wasn't that big of a deal," she says, her words sober and clear. "Does that mean you regret it?"

He blinks. "Do you?"

"No," she says quickly and gets even redder in the face, if possible.

Satoru merely smirks. "Good."

Liv says nothing as he exits her room. It doesn't take her long to succumb to the lull of blissful sleep. By the morning, she forgets their short conversation.

Satoru doesn't but decides to keep that tidbit of info to himself.

Chapter 4: Engagement Part III

October 2nd, 2016. / 07:02 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv wakes up sometime after 07:00. Her dorm room is already lit with morning sunshine and she can hear birds cheerfully chirping outside her window. She rolls to her back and rubs her tired eyes, realizing she's still wearing mascara as her hands get smudged with black residue. She groans. How much did I drink?, she wonders then pulls away her covers, revealing the outfit she wore last night. Damn it, I didn't even change into pajamas. Sitting up, she is grateful not to experience the usual symptoms of the morning after drinking like most people do. She never did as she is one of the blessed few percent of the population who never suffer from a hangover.

The woman had her fair share of drinking contests in the past. Ah, those were the days, she recalls the memories fondly while standing up. Hooking her arms over her head, Liv does a short stretching routine to start the day. First her arms and shoulders, then her his and lower back before finishing off with her legs. She picked up the habit in her teen years as a countermeasure for her period cramps. She found the habit helpful and has stuck to it over the years. Once done with warming up her muscles and joints, Liv reaches for her phone and checks the messages. Oddly, she has no new messages from Mathias but from Shoko. The notification reads that it was received three minutes ago.

From: Shoko Ieiri

u good?

idiot wouldn't let us in

I wonder who's the idiot, Liv chuckles at the way Shoko refers to Satoru and then types a response, letting her know that she's fine and that they'll have to repeat last night. After putting her phone down, she heads to the bathroom next. She strips out of her clothes and folds them neatly on the cabinet next to the washing machine before pulling aside the curtains and stepping inside the shower. She turns the faucet to a warm position and scooches to the end of the shower, remembering that the dorm showers tend to flush out piping hot water first then cold water afterward. Checking the stream tentatively with her palm, she steps under the showerhead, letting the water dampen her hair and body.

The cold water trickles down her forehead and cheeks before hitting her breasts and backside. She runs her hand over her hair, getting it drenched in the process. Bracing herself against the wall, she feels the stream hit her back and she welcomes the sensation. For a moment, her thoughts drift back to last night as she tries to recall the events. While not suffering from a hangover, Liv tends to forget things when under the influence of alcohol - the more she drinks, the bigger the hole in her memory.

She starts her recollection from the rooftop of the building where the bar is located. I was talking to Gojo and then I got down to the bar. She then remembers seeing her friends and sitting down at the bar. There was beer - a lot of beer - and there was a baseball match that Liv didn't watch. They were drinking and then gossiping. Liv is fairly sure she fell at some point because her butt is feeling sore. She winces as she touches her tush.

She tries to recall events after their third round of drinks. Liv remembers talking about the engagement and her friends' expected disapproval of Gojo as a husband material  (which she concurs). What else, what else? Liv is certain something else happened but the harder she tries to remember, the less she seems to be making progress.

"How did we get home?" she wonders out loud. "How did I get to my room?"

A mystery for the ages, she concludes in the end.

 

///

 

October 2nd, 2016. / 07:13 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The walls at the Jujutsu High's dorms are fairly thick but if one's next door to someone else's room, they could hear pretty much everything that's going on on the other side of the wall. As such, Satoru hears the familiar screech of the bed and the subsequent rush of water in the shower. He shakes his hand to position his watch upright. It reads 07:13.

"How do you do that?" he asks in awe.

Worse yet, he knows she'll be able to function properly even though she's technically exhausted. It makes Liv Drakon appear more divine than human. And you call me a freak of nature, he chuckles.

Gojo is a light sleeper as well. Shoko gives him an earful for it, primarily because she observes him through the eyes of a doctor. Reverse Cursed Technique can do only so much for your brain and body, she'd argue. Would it kill you to take better care of your health? He'd then channel his inner brat, after which she'd sigh in defeat because he wouldn't listen to her anyway.

However, even a nap was a hard-to-achieve goal last night.

Do you regret our first time?

Satoru didn't give Liv an answer. They were something before that. Now, they're something else. Always indescribable and never concrete. He is glad she doesn't regret their actions all those years ago. Not because he was bad in any way; he's certain he did well if her sounds of pleasure were any indication. The bed, he recalls with a wince the crappy bed that screeched with every thrust he made into her warmth. Apart from that, it was perfect - she was perfect.

Satoru still remembers how she whined his name, her lips soft against his. Her hair was a mess of platinum locks, interwoven with his fingers. She was grasping at his shoulders, drawing claw marks across his back while her own arched toward him. He remembers her begging him to go harder, to go faster. Sweat, tears, blood - he can still feel it, taste it.

Do you regret our first time?

He closes his eyes and ignores the way his heart twists miserably, painfully.

It wasn't that big of a deal.

After a while, he can no longer hear the shower running next door and figures Liv's done with her basic hygiene. He settles his phone inside his pocket and puts on his shoes before leaving his room, the question she asked last night no longer burning his soul.

He knocks on her door a few times before he hears her invite him in. Pushing the door open, Satoru steps inside her room and tries not to scoff at the fact she has opened the window. That won't help fan out the smell of alcohol and cigarettes.

He hears ruffling from the bathroom and as he cranes his neck backward, he sees her leaning over the sink, her face close to the mirror above it.

"What ya' doing there, darling?" he asks teasingly. "Putting on a face?"

"As a matter of fact," she says with a muffled voice, putting cream around her mouth, "yes."

Satoru chuckles as he looks around her room, noticing she's yet to pack. "Is this all of your stuff? Rather minimalistic for a Shuuin mistress."

He hears her scoff, "Whatever. At least I'm not taking forever to get ready."

"Debatable," Satoru retorts before taking a peek inside her duffel bag that is laid on her bed. "Hm, burgundy and lace. Hot - "

She throws a roll of paper at his head which he effectively negates with his Infinity. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Liv, red-faced from rage (and embarrassment), as she gives him a stern, pointed look.

"You're a real dick, Satoru Gojo," she says with a mix of disgust and disappointment.

"At least you've got a good taste," he quirks a brow and she stomps over to him before snatching the duffel bag.

"Unbelievable," she mutters, tugging on the zipper. "Did you come here to snoop around my personal belongings?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "No, I came here to see what's the hold-up."

"I'm not ready yet," she says simply as she collects her stuff. "Give me ten minutes."

"You've got five," Satoru counters with a smug grin.

Annoyed, she looks at him as if he's grown a second head on his shoulders. She notes he's being particularly obnoxious this morning for some reason.

She then gives him an exasperated look. "I did something last night, didn't I? That's why you're being like this."

He hums, answering enigmatically, the grin ever-present on his lips, "Well, I wouldn't say that."

She sighs, shaking her head. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry, okay? I don't remember half the things that happened after I met up with Shoko and Utahime."

"You don't say," Satoru teases her again and she clicks her tongue. "Oh, this is so fun - "

"I said I'm sorry, drop it already," she groans as she tries to push him out of the room to no avail as he's stronger than her.

He seems to ponder on it for a moment. "I'll have to think about it."

"How bad could it be for you to be so annoying?" she half whines, half groans, throwing her hands in the air.

Satoru is silent as he finds himself torn between telling her what she did or keeping it for later. Seeing her so frustrated and flustered convinces him to do the former. Sniggering, he fishes out his phone and searches for the text message she had sent him last night. He shows her the chat box afterward and watches as her face gets paler. Mortified, Liv closes her eyes as she hands him the phone back. He tries to stifle his giggles.

"I'll be ready in five," she mumbles as she hides her face from him.

He merely hums as he lets her pack the rest of her stuff in peace.

 

///

 

October 2nd, 2016. / 07:29 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Shortly afterward, the two leave the dorm with their bags in tow. Satoru offers to take their cars and stuff back to the penthouse. The two discussed living accommodations before announcing their engagement. Much to both of their discomfort, they'd be sniffed out more quickly unless they sell the story of them being tight-knit. That includes sharing the same living space. Liv technically has no place of her own in Tokyo and the Manor is out of the question due to the wedding prep, so Satoru offered his flat in Tokyo to serve as a residence until they're married. After the wedding, they'll discuss the topic again. Liv finds it curious that he didn't mention the Gojo Estate as a possibility. She hasn't inquired much on the subject, though.

Putting on a smile (according to Satoru, Liv looks less dreadful when she smiles; she repaid the compliment by flipping him off), she announces herself before entering Masamichi's office. Upon entering, she is surprised to see the place tastefully decorated. Masamichi put up some banners and talismans, as well as some weaponry. A certain pair of black tessen fans catch her eye and she halts her step to look at them. Leaning in closer, she searches for a spider lily emblem. She finds one engraved on each of the fans.

"They were your mother's."

Liv hums, figuring as much without her former teacher's input. "She gave them to you?"

Masamichi walks up to her side and looks at the fans as well. "Memorabilia. I wanted to give them back to the Shuuin but - "

"It's okay," Liv cuts in, already knowing what he wanted to say. "Keep them."

He frowns. "Are you sure? They're one of a kind."

"They were made for my mom," Liv chuckles humorlessly. "I don't need them so let them rest here. They're pretty and fit in with the rest of the place."

He grunts but says nothing else.

Liv blinks. "I'm here for the interview."

Masamichi is quiet for a moment but his thoughts are not. "You don't have to do this, Drakon."

She smiles. "Yes, I do or they'll think we're up to something."

"You're still as sharp," he notes. "It's no wonder they're wary of you."

"They're slaves to their traditions," Liv murmurs. "Past grievances made them distrustful of anything they don't know and can't control. This way, they'll see that we mean no harm."

He takes in a deep breath. "They will be merciless if you lie."

"So I won't lie," she says. "Besides, there's not much to disclose anyway - most of it you know already."

"Drakon - "

"There are eyes and ears in this place, sensei," she says, her voice dripping with venom. "Be careful or we might get ourselves in a worse pickle."

"The Shuuin's secrets," he whispers, loud enough for her to hear him. "Your lifestyle, your peace - "

"If you keep on yapping, sure," she says before stretching her lips into a tight smile. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

He clears his throat and invites her to sit. Sitting opposite her, Masamichi reaches for a stack of papers and a single pen. He offers Liv tea which she politely declines. He gives her one final look before beginning the interview. The questions range from historical facts to previous heads to the number of relatives.

"Based on historical annals stored in our archives, the Shuuin have existed for at least a thousand years," she says, her tone reflecting a well-practiced speech. "We had fifty-two clan heads so far, excluding myself."

"If you'd have to take a guess," Masamichi asks, "how many clan members do the Shuuin number?"

Liv thinks for a moment. "Around a hundred, by free estimate."

Masamichi writes her answer down before asking the next question. "Innate cursed technique and other noteworthy abilities passed down through the bloodline."

Liv smirks. "You know the answer to that question, sensei."

Masamichi sighs. "Just tell me what to write down."

She chuckles. "There is no innate cursed technique passed down in the clan. We use basic talismans, sealing and summoning techniques aided by talismans, and barrier casting. The rituals that the Shuuin traditionally practice are used to aid in protecting the Manor from curse infestation."

"But a Shuuin can have a technique of their own?" Masamichi asks though he already knows the answer to this question.

"Naturally," Liv hums in response. "Usually, they are sent to the Shuuin elders and senior members who help them train and control their abilities."

"What if the technique is particularly destructive?" Masamichi asks with a frown on his face.

"A knife can kill a captor but it can free the captive," she recalls her father saying at one point, word for word. "The same could be said for cursed techniques."

Masamichi grunts. "What about your cursed technique?"

Liv is quiet for a moment. "I don't have a cursed technique."

"But you have your father's abilities," Masamichi points out. "I even trained you in cursed energy manipulation to strengthen your control of the ability."

The Shuuin mistress frowns before she answers, "My abilities are in simple terms a talisman technique. The operative aspect of the practice is similar to your cursed technique."

"Operative aspect?" he inquires.

"I can't explain it," she continues, "it's too complex. It's a feeling type of thing and it's rarely taught to someone unrelated by blood."

"Taught?" Masamichi asks. "It's not inherited?"

"The teachings are inherited," Liv clarifies. "The ability is taught. Theoretically, I could teach someone to do the same thing but the chances of them grasping it are low."

Masamichi hums. "Why?"

Liv scratches her temple. "Because it's esoteric knowledge, a relic of ancient times."

Masamich hums. "Alright. What about the effects of this ability?"

"Galdr can be used to create talismans that enhance physical aspects of the world," Liv further explains. "Seidr is used to heal the mind, unblock mental barriers, and negate abilities that affect the brain."

"Is it a dangerous practice?" he asks though he already knows the answer.

"Unlike cursed talismans, galdr relies on runic scriptures and enchantments that don't require a price to be paid," Liv answers calmly. "Seidr could be interpreted as a reverse cursed technique but not the same. The most straining part of the practice is picking the right herbs to drink."

"How unusual," Masamichi muses. "Can you utilize it in combat?"

"I haven't heard anyone do it so far," Liv says honestly. "It takes a lot of time to prepare a single galdr talisman and seidr requires either a potion or a ritual before you can achieve the effects. It's impractical for battle."

He nods and proceeds with the next question, "What about your ancestral home? Is it occupied? Are there any special compartments kept under close watch?"

"You're asking if we're hiding some top-secret weapon in our closet?" Liv asks sarcastically and before Masamichi can explain himself, she continues, "Apart from the forge and ritualistic weapons that we make, there's nothing else there. It's practically a summer home. You're free to investigate the entire plot if you wish."

Masamichi's eyes widen. "Drakon, you can't - "

"Why not? I am the mistress of the Shuuin, I can do as I please," she smirks. "I have nothing to hide so relay the message to the elders. They can do it before the wedding if they want."

"They will do it, Drakon," Masamichi says slowly. "Whatever is hidden there, they will find it and you will face execution."

She leans over the table, close enough that he can feel her breath as she says, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"It's not a laughing matter," he says, his voice slightly raised and his brows frowning.

"I'm not laughing, sensei," Liv counters. "In case you haven't noticed."

Silence erupts as they enter a staring competition. He can't read her thoughts but she can read his. Won't let them touch her, I promised, I made a promise, to keep her safe, to keep her alive. It sounds like a broken record on repeat. You poor man, she pities him. Don't make a promise that you can't keep. After a while of stubborn quiet, Masamichi continues with the questionnaire. The remaining questions mostly revolve around the clan members, their hierarchy system, and inter-clan law.

"How do you deal with traitors?" Masamichi asks hesitantly.

Liv hesitates to answer. "Technically speaking, the Shuuin don't rule with an iron fist. Every clan member follows and disobeys orders according to their consciousness."

Masamichi stares in disbelief. "You allow disobedience? How do you avoid riots and overrule?"

Liv smiles softly. "Acceptance is the core of our system of belief and values. To be a Shuuin is to have free will and understand the consequences of our choices."

"Is that why you're the clan leader?" Masamichi asks. "Because your brother chose to abdicate?"

"Yes and no," Liv answers, her tone grave and sorrowful. "He opted to abdicate but that didn't make me the clan leader - the Shuuin put me in that position."

"A collective decision?" Masamichi inquires, quirking his brow. "Like a vote?"

"No," Liv shakes her head. If only it were that easy.

"Then what is it?" he probes further, though her expression tells him that she's reached the limit of how much she will allow to be interrogated.

"Let's put it this way," she explains evenly. "The Shuuin head can, theoretically, be anyone from the clan but not everyone from the clan earns the respect and trust of the rest."

Masamichi frowns. "So, the title of clan head is not passed down the main line?"

Liv frowns. "The title is expected to fall to the member of the main line."

"I see," he says and writes down her answer. "One more question and we're done."

"Great," she murmurs.

"The higher-ups want to know about the Vow of Pacifism and how the Shuuin spies can work around the Vow," Masamichi says.

Liv scratches her chin, deep in thought. "Well, our spies aren't Shuuin members."

"They're not?" Masamichi asks in surprise.

"They make a pact with the current head and upon the head's death, they are released from service," she answers. "While they serve the Shuuin as a whole, they are bound to the Shuuin clan head."

"Doesn't that weaken your clan considerably?" Masamichi points out. "If an army of spies is loyal only to the clan head, the others are defenseless."

"One would think so," Liv retorts. "The spies have a choice on whether they protect the rest of the clan. So far, they've been very generous."

"And you trust them?" Masamichi asks, bewildered more and more with each revelation. "Just like that?"

Liv chuckles. "You shouldn't judge something simply because you've never seen it before."

"And the Vow?" Masamichi asks.

Liv sighs. "I don't understand what the big deal is with our Vow. It's a Vow of Pacifism, simple as that."

Masamichi massages his temples. "The higher-ups want to know the terms."

"We can't fight in open combat," Liv says though she finds the clarification redundant. "Apart from shoves and accidents, we cannot wage wars, use any kind of weapons to kill or defend, or inflict deliberate harm to others."

"What happens if you break the Vow?" Masamichi asks.

"Effects vary as the Vow doesn't specify the punishment," Liv explains. "It is the uncertainty that strikes fear in our clan members. Quite effective too."

"And whom do you swear the Vow?" Masamichi asks.

Clever, Liv notes. "Children vow to their parents and spouses vow to each other. It's practical and poetic at the same time."

"Every Shuuin does it?" Masamichi asks.

"Have you seen a Shuuin fight?" Liv asks in response.

Feeling chastised and slightly ridiculed, Masamichi concludes the questionnaire. He seals the documents inside a large envelope before putting them aside.

"I will send these to the Council to be documented," Masamichi says. "As far as they're concerned, with this interview, you've fulfilled your end of the agreement."

Liv offers a curt bow in response. "I will be on my way then."

"Don't be a stranger now and visit the campus sometime," Masamichi says hopefully.

Liv presses her lips. "I'll think about it."

Masamichi hums before waving her off. "Go on, Satoru is probably throwing a fit for waiting so long."

Liv smiles and silently agrees.

 

///

 

October 2nd, 2016. / 07:48 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru yawns, not bothering to cover his mouth. He then looks at his watch again and his upper lip curls in annoyance. Fifteen minutes, he whines internally.

"Come on, Liv," he groans.

He leans against his car and taps his foot against the pavement. Seconds seem to pass slower and slower, blending into minutes, into hours. Time stretches into infinity and beyond and - his phone rings.

"Hello, my sugar plum," he says after accepting the call.

On the other side of the line, Liv rolls her eyes. "Sugar plum? Can't think of something else?"

He scoffs. "Not good enough for a pampered princess?"

"That should be my line," she says sarcastically. "Can we go? I'm done with Yaga."

"I'm waiting by the car," he says.

She is quiet for a moment. "I thought you could teleport now."

"It's exhausting on my part," he reasons with a hint of displeasure. "Besides, if I teleport you around all the time, you'll grow lazy and fat."

He could hear her scream his name from the top of her lungs, followed by colorful profanities.

The ride back to the penthouse is quiet for the most part. The only time the future spouses communicate is when Satoru asks Liv what's wrong to which she replies with deafening silence. They don't speak again until after they get to the Roppongi district. Immersed in the view, Liv smiles at the sight of tall skyscrapers and blinding screens displaying the latest fashion in Japan. While she loved her home country and its laid-back culture, she couldn't deny the allure of class and prestige that reigned in Tokyo's upper echelons.

Satoru's penthouse mirrors the same idea of luxury she has in her mind. It is located atop a residential building and the main entrance to the flat is through an elevator. Liv tries to suppress her awe as she enters the place. It is a vast, open space. On her right, she sees a kitchen and dining area, separated by a screen. On her left is the living room that overlooks the Roppongi district. Down the hallway on her far right, she sees an open door of what she assumes is the bathroom. While no foreigner to glitz and glamour, the Shuuin don't invest in anything they find needless, which includes properties. Their vast wealth originates from investing in metals and gems, which they also use to craft their ceremonial weapons.

"Welcome to your new home," Satoru says somewhat uneasily.

She understands the tension. This is the first time they live together. Satoru enjoys the freedom and comfort of solitude. Liv is no different. Highly individualistic and independent personalities are bound to feel trapped when cohabiting with others.

She tries to keep a cool face, saying casually, "This is a nice place you've got, Gojo. I'm tempted to get one myself."

"My advice," he suggests, mirroring her casual tone, "don't bother. Up until now, I barely spent any time here. I'm mostly at school or on missions."

As she looks around, she notices barely any clutter. He wasn't joking when he said he barely spends any time here.

"Master bedroom is over there," he says, pointing to the right hallway. "A spare bedroom is next to it."

She nods slowly. "We'll be next door, then."

"Walls are thick so privacy is guaranteed," he quips.

"Good to know," she says before sighing. "Heavens help us."

He chuckles before nudging her. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure? Think of this as a new project."

"This new project is about to change our lives," she notes sarcastically.

He pouts. "I wouldn't go as far as that. More like 'slight inconvenience for a bigger reward'."

"Sure," she rolls her eyes as she takes her duffel bag to the spare bedroom.

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 09:00 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Days pass quickly as Liv and Satoru learn to cohabit. It is not easy as the two sorcerers have vastly different routines. Satoru leads a relatively unhealthy lifestyle; his sustenance is processed sugar, and he sleeps barely four hours on average per night to name a few. He wakes up early and goes to bed late. Being the strongest sorcerer alive has its perks but the workload is tasking. On the other hand, Liv has a relatively healthy lifestyle; she has a balanced diet, spends most of her time painting or reading, and has a regular workout schedule. The differences in their everyday habits render the time they spend together to a minimum - early mornings and late nights.

They quickly fall into a routine that is easy to follow. When not at the penthouse, Satoru is either at Jujutsu High or elsewhere on missions. He'll text her, letting her know that he's having fun. Other times, he'll call to unnerve her with his antics. Meanwhile, Liv visits the Shuuin Manor to check in on the preparations. Most of her visits end in either an argument with Mathias and Tove or being bombarded with questions by younger clansmen about Satoru.

When she isn't at the Manor or indulging in Tokyo's curiosities, she enjoys the solitude of Satoru's house. Besides her artistic hobbies, Liv loves to cook and the penthouse has a vast kitchen with an open space, perfect for hangouts and late-night drinking. She finds it curious that Satoru never seems to cook anything as most of his meals are takeout. When he tried one of Liv's dishes, he liked it, stealing bites whenever possible. Such a lazy ass mooch, she scoffs inwardly before she hears the elevator ring. As the sliding door opens, Satoru emerges with several paper bags filled to the brim with produce. Liv chuckles at the scene.

"You're back early," she says in surprise. "Did you buy groceries?"

"No Liv, I stole this from a lovely granny down the street," he says sarcastically, putting the groceries on the free kitchen counter.

She merely rolls her eyes. "It's just two of us for dinner, this is too much."

"Actually," he says standing opposite her and leaning against the counter, looking suspiciously at what she's making, "it's four of us. What's that?"

"Lunch," she answers before returning to the more immediate topic. "What do you mean four?"

"You, me," he points to her then to himself, then proceeds to count on his fingers, "Megumi and Tsumiki. One, two, three, four in total."

Her eyebrows rise. "Seriously?"

Satoru nods his head and grins. "Tsumiki insisted on finally meeting you. She's quite excited."

The smile on her lips is radiant. Satoru can't recall the last time someone smiled at him like that.

"And Megumi?" Liv asks, somewhat shy all of a sudden.

Satoru hesitates to answer. "He's coming to dinner too?"

"Meaning no," Liv nods in defeat though not surprised.

"I told you," Satoru says, twisting his face into a dark, emotionless expression, "he's at that age."

Liv chuckles. "You were at that age once, too."

"Was not," he retorts and his voice slightly breaks, making him cough to cover it up.

"Yours was even worse," she rolls her eyes at him. "I thought you'd never crack a smile."

He merely humphs in response. Liv then turns her attention to the groceries Satoru brought and goes through the bags. A wide assortment of fruits and vegetables are inside one of the bags, along with simple condiments such as soy sauce, sweet chilly oil, sesame oil, wasabi, and her favorite, balsamic vinegar. She looks at Satoru who seems to be doing the same, his blue eyes peeking over his shoulder at her back. She finds more of her favorites in the other bags: strawberries, dates, figs, black olives, mozzarella cheese, popcorn, and -

"Bourbon?" she asks, lifting the bottle and turning around to face him.

"For when you paint," Satoru shrugs, not looking at her. "I wasn't sure if it's scotch or bourbon you like so I picked one that sounds fancier."

Right, she smirks. "That's unusually thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Satoru says nonchalantly.

Liv then continues to rummage through the groceries.

"Did you buy anything that the kids like?" she asks as she wiggles an empty paper bag, the sound making him turn around.

He scoffs. "Megumi likes anything that goes with ginger so I got that. Tsumiki's not picky, though."

Liv shuffles through the rest of the groceries, trying to find the rhizome. "Anything else?"

Satoru hums in thought. "He doesn't like sweet side dishes. Oh, and bell peppers, red in particular are not his thing."

"Not a sweet tooth?" Liv teases. "It's like he didn't spend a day in his life with you."

"I know," he whines. "Tsk, he needs to do better."

She rolls her eyes as she thinks of what to make for their guests tonight. "They say a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Hopefully, that'll be enough to get in Megumi's good graces."

"Is that why you're cooking for me every day?" Satoru asks before a suggestive smirk appears on his handsome features. "Are you seducing me, Liv Drakon?"

"Nah, I'm good," she stares at him. "Also, I don't cook for you, you're mooching off my cooking."

"Marriage is about compromise and sharing," he grins. "Get used to it."

She sighs but doesn't indulge his narcissism any longer, focusing on the cooking instead.

Chapter 5: Engagement Part IV

October 9th, 2016. / 12:40 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Tove sighs as she massages her temples.

Today is not going well. Wedding prep is becoming a real mess. They're barely halfway through with the deadline. The decorations are horrendous, and the cleaning staff sucks much like their advertisement. As a cherry on top, Liv doesn't visit the Manor anymore as she argues with Mathias over everything.

"At least the wedding outfits are ready," the brunette says to no one.

While she's silently going over the list of their chores for today, Tove hears a commotion near the kitchen. Lifting her gaze from the list, she sees four spies huddled together, seemingly whispering. Tove sighs and her frustration bubbles up as she struts over to the gossiping groupie. They notice her approaching, albeit too late as she rounds them up before they can disappear from her sight.

"What are you doing?" Tove asks once she's within earshot. "Are you done with your assignments? Because this place doesn't look wedding-ready."

The spies give her a static silence in response.

"Cat cut your tongue?" she almost growls as she steps forward. "Speak up!"

The spies stand straight, their posture putting even soldiers to shame. Tove squints her eyes, suspicious of their behavior. Whatever they have been whispering about is not for her ears.

"I'm waiting," she urges them, crossing her arms.

They exchange panicked looks, none of them wishing to be the snitch. In the end, Tove focuses her gaze on the tallest spy among them, a troublemaker named Dorian Frye. The raven-haired spy cowers under her intense gaze, his baby blue eyes glued to the floor. She takes another step forward, towering over him while the rest of the small group steps back.

Dorian takes a shallow breath. "Someone came to ask about the ceremony. A man with glasses, in a suit. Said he's a manager or something at the school."

Tove frowns. Manager? School? She wonders if they had heard wrong.

"We didn't know if we should answer so we called Takashi," Dorian continues explaining. "Takashi didn't know either so he called Rune."

Tove knows where this conversation is going and closes her eyes as frustration creeps in. "What did she tell them?"

Dorian merely shrugs. "Everything. She didn't see any harm in it - "

"Did she tell them about the wedding vows?" Tove cuts in.

The young man lifts a brow. "She told them everything so - yeah?"

Shit. "Get back to work - all of you!"

The spies offer a deep bow before scurrying off. Meanwhile, Tove searches her pockets and pulls out her phone. She debates whether to call Mathias or Liv. I don't want to upset Liv for stupid reasons. Maybe Mathias is a better option. She dials the older Drakon's number before hitting the call button.

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 15:44 / Fushiguro Residence, Saitama, Japan

 

"Come on, Megumi."

A disinterested boy, barely old enough to be called a teen but too tall to be a child, glances at his stepsister over his shoulder. The Fushiguro siblings tend to fight over trivial things, mostly because of Megumi doing something stupid. This time, however, Megumi has zero interest in engaging in conversation any further, no matter how much Tsumiki begs him to reconsider.

"You can go if you want," he drawls, his eyes glued to the phone. "I don't want to play house with Gojo and some stray cat he picked up on the street."

"He's getting married to a woman we know, Megumi," Tsumiki reasons while doing the dishes. "She sent us birthday gifts and pictures from her travels."

The young man raises his fist mockingly into the air. "Woo-hoo."

"Seriously?" Tsumiki whines, looking at him with an annoyed frown on her brow. "Try to show some respect."

Megumi groans and while Tsumiki is still talking, he puts his fingers into his ears, trying to tune her out. The argument's been ongoing since they returned from school half an hour ago. He's half-certain Gojo tasked Tsumiki to have them both attend the dinner at the Roppongi penthouse - otherwise, Tsumiki would huff away at the first sign of resistance. What's it our business if he's getting married or not? he wonders, trying to imagine Satoru in a wedding outfit.

He can't.

Tsumiki forcibly pulls away his left hand, unclogging his ear so he can hear her. She's visibly unnerved, almost angry. Megumi rarely sees Tsumiki angry.

"Gojo-san has been very generous by making us his wards," she chastises. "Chances are that his fiance is kind as well but we won't know that unless we meet her."

Megumi frowns. He doesn't like being guilt-tripped into doing stuff, especially by Tsumiki. She knows he'll do anything for her, no matter the cost, and she exploits that weakness in a manner he despises. They fall into a staring contest, with Tsumiki even holding her breath. Megumi is unphased for the large part but when she starts going a bit purple, he finally sighs in defeat.

"Fine," he groans. "I'll go."

Tsumiki lets out her breath and cheers in excitement. "Great, be ready by 19:00 sharp. Gojo-san will come and pick us up."

Megumi closes his eyes, already feeling a headache incoming. Woo-hoo.

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 17:58 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru leaves around 18:00. He has Liv check out his outfit before he heads out, mostly to annoy her by saying she's 'ogling him'. Also, he wants her to loosen up as he notices her pacing around, fixing everything around the penthouse.

"I'm off," he says finally, waving as he walks into the lift.

"Text me when you pick them up," she calls from the kitchen and hears a faint gruff in annoyance.

Liv experiences what people call the 'waiting game'. At first, she was unsure what else to do; she made dinner (half of the dishes were Japanese, the other half Norwegian), cleaned up the entire penthouse, and dolled herself up a bit, wearing a simple, beige long-sleeved dress. She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and kept makeup simple and minimalist, putting only mascara and combing her brows.

Twenty minutes after Satoru left to pick up the kids, Liv gets a message from her brother. Now what? she whines internally.

From: Mathias Drakon

got a report from Tove

gojo sent an auxiliary manager to the manor

he wanted an overview of the ceremony procedure

they know everything

Liv frowns as she begins to type. She gets three more messages.

From: Mathias Drakon

the council is hung up on the report though

good work making that up

especially the part about the vow

She smirks, feeling exceptionally proud of that one.

From: Liv Drakon

Gojo was already suspicious

He only wanted proof

Now he has it

All good

As if on cue, she gets another message from Mathias.

From: Mathias Drakon

be careful

She sends him one more message, reassuring him that everything will be alright before throwing the phone to the other side of the couch. She sighs for the umpteenth time today. What was supposed to be a leisurely dinner date with Satoru and Fushiguro kids has turned sour in minutes.

She looks at her phone again and clicks her tongue when she reads 19:06. This will be a long-ass dinner.

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 19:08 / Fushiguro Residence, Saitama, Japan

 

Though he told them he'd come to pick them up by 19:00, Satoru is never on time so when he finally parks in front of their house, he receives a harsh look and even harsher words from Megumi.

"You're late, dumbass," the boy seethes after he opens the door to the back seat. "Why tell us to get ready on time if you are not gonna be on time?!"

Satoru grins, his eyes hidden from view by a dark pair of round glasses (which Liv insisted on him wearing instead of his blindfold). "I'm the adult so I don't care."

Questionable, Magumi notes sarcastically.

"Don't listen to him Gojo-san, it's no problem," Tsumiki beams as she hops in the back seat, genuinely happy to see their warden. "I'm just glad we can finally meet your future wife."

Satoru grins and fawns over the sweet girl. "Aww, Tsumiki-chan, that's nice to hear! See Megumi-kun? That's how you show affection."

"I'll show affection when I want to and whom I want to," the boy retorts, his eyes narrowing at Satoru. "I don't know this woman and I don't care to get to know her, just so we're clear."

"Megumi," Tsumiki yelps, slapping her sibling's knee. "Stop it, you're being rude."

Megumi rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

The boy's unusual irritance doesn't escape Satoru's notice. In instances such as Megumi's disinterest in life in general, Satoru's approach is simple - leave it be. He has learned that the boy has a unique way of dealing with things and Satoru asking questions aggravates him more. Yet, he feels a bit offended as Megumi seems to be exceptionally pissed with the prospect of them having dinner together at the penthouse. Don't react, he reminds himself. He's just being a brat.

"Ready to go, then?" Satoru asks, ignoring Megumi's previous outburst and revving up the engine.

"Yes," Tsumiki says before slapping Megumi on his knee again.

The younger Fushiguro sighs as he mumbles, "Yeah."

Satoru says nothing as he turns his wheel to get back in line. Before he pushes the gas paddle, he notices a message notification on his phone. Unlocking his phone, he realizes the message is from Ijichi. He opens the message and reads it carefully.

From: Kiyotaka Ijichi

I got the overview of the ceremony

There will be some dancing involved

These are the wedding vows you're supposed to recite

|file attached|

Satoru clicks on the file link, opening a Word document containing several rows of text. He lifts a single brow. Do I have to say all of this? It sounds like a typical wedding vow; swear to protect, cherish, love, et cetera.

Until he reads the last bit, however - Before the ancestors' gaze and for the time unending, I solemnly swear.

Satoru frowns and grips the wheel tightly as he reads the words, over and again. Liv Drakon, he seethes internally, you underestimate me. He reads the words again and almost scoffs. He silently chastises his future wife, finding it ridiculous that she assumes he would've omitted the last passage as an overly dramatic promise. I am the strongest sorcerer alive, he thinks to himself. Did you think I wouldn't realize it's a binding vow?

"Is something wrong, Gojo-san?" Tsumiki asks, noticing his deep frown in the rear mirror.

He glances back at the kids before shaking his head and putting his car in gear. "Nah, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 19:49  / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv looks at her phone again. What's taking them so long? The dinner's going cold, she wonders as she continues setting the table. She picks a set of white plates and matte silverware. She wonders if either set has seen the light of day until today. There is also the fact that the entire penthouse is so white. Liv wouldn't call the place 'sterile' looking but it does breathe 'serenity' and 'clandestine'. Maybe he likes the minimalist design, she muses. Still, everything seems so luxurious and expensive. It is the complete opposite of the oriental, traditional Gojo Estate that she remembers from her childhood.

Around 20:15, she hears the elevator ring. The familiar unease creeps in and she can feel the butterflies in her stomach. Calm down, Liv, she reminds herself. They're just kids. She fixes her hair and flattens her skirt before walking into the living room where Satoru and the Fushiguro siblings are already waiting for her. Liv notices Satoru first, for obvious reasons as his white hair tends to attract attention. She smiles at the man and he returns the smile, but it is not genuine - rather, it seems ominous, the type she saw him flash at the higher-ups. She tries not to think about it as she focuses on the siblings.

The girl, Tsumiki, is pretty, roughly fourteen or fifteen years of age. Her long brown hair is tied into a high ponytail while her bangs are styled to frame her face. Keep your cool, Drakon, she reminds herself again when she feels the urge to run away. Just stay calm.

"Welcome," she says, and surprisingly, it comes out clear and confident - not at all how she's feeling at the moment.

"Thank you for having us," Tsumiki speaks first, bowing low in respect. "My name is Tsumiki Fushiguro. Nice to meet you."

Liv offers a curt bow in return. "I am Liv Drakon but you can call me Liv, Tsumiki-chan."

Her use of the typically cutesy honorific seems to draw a blush on Tsumiki's cheeks and make her giggle. Her brother seems more offended by the gesture as he rolls his eyes. Damn, she muses as she takes a good look at him. You're his kid alright.

"You must be Megumi," she says, her voice gentle. "I've heard a lot about you."

Megumi gives her a side glance but doesn't outright acknowledge her. She finds the scene funny, reminiscent of her first meeting with Satoru and Toji. She suppresses the laugh that wants to escape her throat. Tsumiki, aware that her sibling is being rude again, shoves her elbow into his side. He grunts and relents, offering a curt bow.

"Megumi Fushiguro," he says, not looking Liv in the eyes.

Liv hums and returns the gesture. "Pleasure to meet you, Megumi-kun."

He doesn't react to the honorific.

"So, that went well," Satoru breaks the discomfort and Liv is grateful for that. "Let's eat, I'm starving."

The kids seem to be down for it so Liv guides them to the dining area where the dinner is served. Tsumiki asks if she had a specific seating order in mind to which Liv chuckles and answers that they're free to hang off the chandelier for all she cares (Satoru points out that she meant figuratively). Once seated, the conversation starts relatively easily, mainly because Satoru began boasting about Tsumiki doing great in school. Liv then asks about their school, hobbies, and so on.

Both are enrolled in the same public school, with Tsumiki starting her third year in junior high next spring while Megumi is a second year. Tsumiki has good grades, is obedient, and is kind (maybe even too kind). She's not part of the jujutsu society but she knows bits about it as they are Satoru's wards. Megumi, while as studious as his sister, is also a bit of a troublemaker (totally not expected, not at all). He possesses the Ten Shadows cursed technique, a unique skill passed down through the Zen'in clan. Yet, the siblings are remarkably mature for their age, which she figures is due to their unique situation.

She doubts Gojo is present much in their lives due to his hectic schedule. At least he tries to give them a normal childhood.

"How did you and Gojo-san meet?" Tsumiki asks after a while, feeling comfortable and being a typical bubbly teen.

Liv looks at Satoru, waiting for him to answer. He merely waves it off, handing her the torch. She complies but she notes his aloofness.

"We were five," Liv says softly, an image of Satoru as a toddler in her mind. "Our mothers were close so we became playmates."

"So you grew up together," Tsumiki notes.

Liv pauses. "Not quite. When we turned fifteen, he enrolled in Jujutsu High so we didn't see each other as often."

Both of the kids seem to be surprised by the revelation. Megumi especially seems stunted. Liv finds the reaction cute and favorable to being completely ignored the entire evening.

"You're not a sorcerer then?" Megumi asks curiously.

Liv shakes her head. "Not an active one. I'm not even registered or ranked. Probably never will be."

"How does that work?" Megumi asks, nudging closer to her.

Though Liv intends to answer his question, Satoru butts in, "Her family's odd but she got basic training at the school."

"Why not enroll then?" Tsumiki asks. "They were already teaching you there."

"My clan is pacifistic," Liv smiles softly. "Full-time enrollment was out of the question for someone like me. I might as well be a regular civilian."

The boy frowns. "Why marry him, then?"

The question is direct and leaves little room for ambiguity. However, Liv figures he's asking why she, a non-active sorcerer, married a high-profile sorcerer of Satoru's caliber. Again, she intends to answer his question but Satoru scoffs in response instead.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Satoru asks, his mouth pointing downward.

So childish, Liv notes with a subtle eye-roll.

Megumi glares at him. "It means she should marry someone less likely to die young."

"Are you saying I'm weak?" Satoru counters.

Megumi groans and Tsumiki scratches the back of her neck nervously.

"Sorry about this," she says to Liv. "Sometimes, I think they just can't help it."

Liv chuckles. "Boys will be boys."

Satoru then turns to her abruptly, his voice low. "I'm a man, not a boy."

"Sure," Liv says, bringing a glass of wine to her lips. "That was very manly of you, by the way."

Scoff is his only response and Liv chuckles, finding his reaction cute. He tries to hide the bare hint of blush on his cheeks with his large hand.

Once they are done with dinner, Liv asks if anyone would like a dessert. She gets an expected positive from Satoru and a polite yes from Tsumiki. Megumi skips on dessert, asking for a glass of water instead. Obliging, Liv gets up from the table and begins collecting empty plates. She feels Satoru tap her shoulder before taking the plates from her.

"Let me," he says softly, taking the whole stack to the kitchen.

Liv blinks but says nothing. She follows after him before telling the youth they'll be back quickly. Once inside the kitchen, the tension subtly rises. Liv remains steady and composed - she knew it wouldn't take him long to find out. She also knew he had to come around willingly or none of it will matter in the end.

"So," he says when she starts cutting a piece of cake for him. "About the wedding vow. When did you plan on telling me?"

"I didn't lie to you, Gojo," she replies calmly, putting the piece of a plate and pushing it to the side so she can make space for Tsumiki's. "Not once."

He scoffs, his smile menacing and his words dripping with venom. "See, not lying and not saying are two different things."

She frowns as she cuts in, "Gojo - "

"No," he shakes his head while grinning to the point she thinks he'll rip open his cheeks. "The kids are here. We'll finish this after they leave."

She doesn't fight him and nods slowly. His eyes burn into hers before he walks past her and back to the dining room. She doesn't feel sorry - she can't be.

Not for this.

"I can't wait to get married," she says the words that should be joyous in the most exasperated tone.

Liv finishes cutting up the second piece of cake and putting it on a plate. She then searches for a tray in the lower cabinets. She finds a medium-sized bamboo tray beneath the sink and puts it on the countertop before placing both plates on it. She remembers that Megumi wanted a glass of water so she pours him one and places it next to the plates with the cake.

By the time she returns to the dining room, Satoru has already immersed himself in some story about one of his students gambling. Tsumiki pays close attention to his words but Megumi seems more interested in an artistic vase on a nearby windowsill. After she puts the plates down, she makes eye contact with Megumi before giving him his glass of water. The boy studies her for a prolonged while before thanking her. Progress, Liv cheers inwardly.

It is 21:00 by the time they finish dessert so the kids are ready to leave. Satoru gets up from his seat at the same time as they do, going through his pockets to find his car keys. Liv smiles at them both, not because she feels forced to but because she truly enjoys their company.

"It was so nice to meet you," Tsumiki says and from the way she spread her hands, Liv thought the girl would hug her.

Flustered, Tsumiki instead clasps her hands behind her back. Liv finds it adorable.

"Likewise," Liv says softly. "Come again. You can sleep over next time if you want."

She then looks at Satoru, as if asking for an opinion. He is still upset with her but doesn't object to her idea.

"Thanks for the dinner," Megumi mutters suddenly. "It was good."

Liv smiles at the boy. "Anytime."

"Okay, time to go," Satoru says, breaking up the endearing moment by calling up the lift. "It's late, you should be in bed."

"Goodbye, Liv-san," Tsumiki glees as she follows Satoru.

Megumi merely waves. Liv watches them as Tsumiki giggles about something with Satoru while Megumi scratches the back of his head. After a while, Satoru brings his arms around them and leads them inside the elevator. They turn around to face her, with Tsumiki giving her one more wave while Megumi remains passive. She half hopes for Satoru to give his signature grin but he merely offers a curt nod. Once the door slides back shut, she reaches for her phone, dialing Mathias' number.

"Liv?" she hears him pick up after four rings.

She sighs. "He's pissed."

She hears a loud sigh from the other side. It irritates her.

"I don't want to tell you," Mathias grumbles, "but I told you so."

"Mathias - "

"Listen, technically, you can't tell him anything regarding the reason behind the marriage," he says quickly, adding, "but you can show him why you can't tell him."

She frowns. "Show him? What do you mean, show - "

As she says it, it dawns on her. Mathias takes her mi-sentence silence as a sign that she understood his suggestion.

She brings a hand over her mouth. "That might work."

"If it doesn't," he says honestly, "you can always make him do what you want."

"Not this time, not with him," she retorts. "I don't want to lose him."

"You don't want to lose him," he asks, "or you don't want to lose to him? You pride yourself in your intellect but Gojo saw right through you."

She doesn't answer him because she doesn't know.

"Good luck sister," he says softly and hangs up.

She stares at her phone for a while, pondering his last question. After a few minutes of silence both within and without of her head, she returns to the kitchen to clean up the dishes.

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 21:48 / Fushiguro Residence, Saitama, Japan

 

The ride back to Saitama is calm for the most part.

Satoru, refusing to show his displeasure with the latest events, keeps up appearances with the Fushiguro siblings while they bicker among themselves. Tsumiki is, for the most part, thrilled with the dinner, complimenting Liv's culinary skills. Megumi, on the other hand, categorically refutes every one of her statements, providing logical (albeit, untrue) arguments. Satoru offers a hum and a chuckle, mostly not listening to their exchange.

All he thinks about is that fucking binding vow.

Several minutes shy of ten o'clock, Satoru pulls over on the pavement near the Fushiguro residence.

"Thank you, Gojo-san," Tsumiki says, smiling as she exits the car.

"Don't stay up late, you two," he says with a large grin.

"Okay," Tsumiki and Megumi reply before heading inside.

Sator waves at them and as he's about to drive off, he falters for the briefest moment. He then eyes Megumi's retreating form.

"Megumi."

The boy stops in his tracks and turns around. "What?"

Satoru beckons him to come closer. The boy cocks his head to the side before frowning, obviously annoyed to have to walk back to the car. Tsumiki notices the exchange and remains at a polite distance while Megumi bends over slightly, looking inside the vehicle where Satoru is sitting.

The older man asks him, "What's your opinion on Liv?"

Megumi quirks a brow. "Is this a trick question?"

"No," Satoru answers honestly. "I just want your take on her, that's all."

Megumi hums, still thinking it's a trick question. "She's not annoying and Tsumiki likes her, so that's good."

"Do you like her?" Satoru asks and Megumi wonders if it's doubt he hears in the man's voice.

He answers him anyway, "For now."

Satoru smiles and nods. "That's good."

Megumi rolls his eyes and mutters, "So weird."

Satoru doesn't call him out for the last comment and merely waves at him, a cocky smile on his face. Megumi scoffs and turns on his heel, more than glad for their conversation to be over. Tsumiki eyes her brother curiously before waving at Satoru one last time. Once they enter the house, Satoru drives away.

 

///

 

October 9th, 2016. / 22:15 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv is sitting on the couch, freshly showered and in her pajamas. Her hazel eyes are focused on the view over Roppongi. The colorful lights dance in the darkness. She hears the elevator ring sometime after ten o'clock. Her stomach twists and she tries to swallow the nervousness, the lights of Roppongi are no longer interesting to her.

"You're back," she says softly over her shoulder as Satoru walks into the living room.

He blinks. "Yeah."

He walks to the couch, his step is slouchy as he crawls into the seat next to her. He sighs as he leans his head back. Frustration is written all over his face.

"Still want to talk?" she asks.

He rolls his head to the side, looking her in the eye. "Are you gonna talk?"

She presses her lips and looks down at her lap. "I can't tell you much."

"Can't," he asks, "or won't?"

"Gojo - "

"Are your secrets that important?" he asks evenly.

"It's not that simple," she tells him slowly.

He closes his eyes.

"Is this the price? For your secrets?" he asks while his eyes are still closed. "The binding vow, I mean."

Just this once, she wants to say but knows it's not true. "Yes."

He sighs and hides his face in the palms of his hands. "Damn it, Liv. Why didn't you tell me?"

She takes a deep breath. "You'd have found out anyway."

"Finding out this way sucks big-time," he says icily, his eyes meeting hers.

He's silent and so is she. They stare at each other, sky blue meeting hazel green. The world stops for a second and neither of them breathes. Satoru frowns in confusion and watches as she suddenly sticks out her tongue, fully and without restraint. A bright, familiar mark appears and his eyes widen as he reads the Kanji on her tongue.

"Is that - " he can't even bring himself to say it.

Vow of Silence.

Binding vows are the base of all jujutsu - sacrificing something to gain something else. The Vow of Silence is unique in that the sorcerer is more or less cursed with no benefits; the Vow doesn't give a power boost to the sorcerer's abilities. Its primary role is to ensure the integrity of the secret without fearing human error. For this reason, sorcerers tend to avoid this kind of binding vow. The vow also often involves instant death as payment for breaking silence. To Satoru, this means that whatever the Shuuin are hiding, they would rather die than reveal it to the world. Could it be a technique after all? he wonders. 

"So, there is a secret after all," he says. "Guess those higher-ups had a reason to be paranoid, for once."

She retracts her tongue and stares him dead in the eye. "I never lied to you, Gojo. I want to help you."

He runs his hand through his white locks. "You make it hard to trust you."

"Likewise."

His eyes meet hers again and there is a certain anger in her hazel orbs.

"I am not the enemy, Gojo," she seethed, "so don't make me one."

He laughs, "Are you threatening me?"

"Threatening you?" she scoffs. "In these twenty years, did I ever, even remotely, try and threaten you?"

He remains silent.

"You are drowned in your distrust of me that you can't see past it," she says, her voice strained. "To make matters worse, you make me doubtful of you."

"Keeping secrets doesn't foster trust," he bites back.

"Because I can't tell you, damn it," she growls. "I want to, I desperately want to but I can't!"

There is something about the way she says it that rubs Satoru the wrong way. Liv Drakon does as she pleases, yet here she is, seemingly with her hands tied. His eyes widen as he ponders on the thought that perhaps, his wife might be in deeper shit than she led on.

And she's taking me down with her.

As if she already knows his thoughts, Liv frowns as she leans closer, her face dangerously close to his.

"Marriage is about sharing and compromise," she spat before leaning away slowly. "Get used to it."

Satoru doesn't utter a word, knowing it will only aggravate the situation. I went too far this time, he realizes as Liv curls up and closes her eyes. She falls asleep shortly afterward, her chest rising up and down in slow and steady rhythms. Satoru stares at her sleeping form, something strange bubbling in his gut. He can't name it and he doesn't want to. 

He just wants it gone.

Chapter 6: Engagement Part V

November 12th, 2006. / 14:23 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The cold is slowly settling in and the air already smells of snow.

Yet Satoru finds himself in detention.

"How can you put the strongest jujutsu sorcerer in detention?" he grumbles, picking at the button on the sleeve of his uniform. "Stupid-ass sensei."

He wishes he'd at least have some company. He texted Suguru but he didn't reply so he's probably asleep. Satoru notes he's been doing a lot of that lately. He texted Shoko as well but she told him to fuck off. All who's left is Nanami and he definitely wouldn't come. Satoru even pondered on calling Utahime and Mei Mei but gave up, realizing they couldn't get to Tokyo in time anyway. He sighs as his head falls on the table, supported by his left arm while the other hangs freely on the side. Several moments pass with him pouting like that. The classroom is quiet and the lack of company makes it deafening. Satoru starts counting how much longer he has to sit in detention. He lifts his gaze and looks at the clock hanging above the blackboard. Half an hour? he whines and lets his head fall again.

Not long after, he hears footsteps. They are uneven and light, like that of a drunk person. Liv? he wonders as he sees her on the other side of the wall through the window. I thought she was at the Manor. Something is wrong as he realizes that her energy output is erratic, almost as if she is in a state of frenzy. The door of the classroom opens and she enters slowly. When she doesn't move or speak, he quirks a brow.

"Hey," he says though it sounds more like a question.

She seems lost as her eyes go from the teacher's desk to the window and finally to Satoru himself. Her entire body was shaking until she met his sky-colored eyes. She stares at him, far longer than usual. Satoru isn't sure why she does this as of late but he figures it has something to do with the fact that she witnessed his lifeless body. That thought troubles him more than he'd like to admit.

Liv remains silent for minutes, long enough for Satoru to get alarmed. He is about to rise from his seat when Liv stops him abruptly.

"I'm okay," she says hurriedly, her hands extended to calm him down.

He doesn't believe her, though. "You sure?"

She nods her head. "I'm fine."

Satoru sits back down and leans back on the chair. "What's up? You seem super on edge."

Her frown deepens and she remains quiet. He doesn't push her to talk but his patience is running low from being stuck in the classroom for an extra hour. After a painful few minutes of standing like a statue, Liv takes a few uncertain steps toward him. She pulls out a chair from the table next to him and places it opposite him before straddling the chair. She keeps her gaze down and Satoru quirks a brow again, finding her silence alarming.

"I lied," he hears her whisper. "I'm not okay."

He remains quiet.

"I want to burn it all to the ground," he hears her whisper again, still not looking at him. "I hate this - all of this."

"That's rather dark coming from you," Satoru cocks his head to the side. "What's wrong?"

She stares out the window. "My hands, my legs, my entire body - I'm tied with so many chains."

Her gaze shifts from the window and she stares into his cerulean orbs. "But you - us, together we could break those chains."

"Focus, Liv," he deadpans. "What are you talking about?"

She scoffs. "I thought I could do it. It was foolish, though."

She rambles on but hardly speaks sense. Satoru doesn't like what he hears.

"Liv, this isn't funny," he says, worried. "What happened? What did you do?"

"I will answer your questions," she says, her words finally resembling some sense. "I will tell you everything - if you do one thing for me."

He is caught off guard. Liv needs a favor, he wonders incredulously. Liv never needs a favor. He stares as she smiles but the smile never reaches her hazel eyes. The sunlight envelopes her in a shroud of marigold hues. She reaches for his sunglasses as if they were somehow in the way. She then traces his cheek with the back of her hand, her touch soft and warm against his skin. His heartbeat seemed to stop as he took in her next words.

"Marry me, Satoru," she says, her words like honey dripping from her peach-tinted lips.

He remembers a lonesome tear falling down her cheek afterward.

 

///

 

October 10th, 2016. / 03:55 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru wakes up first.

There is barely any daylight outside and when he checks his phone, he sees it's almost four in the morning. He rubs his eyes, noticing they're especially sore today. Damn it, he thinks to himself as his gaze then falls on the figure next to him. Liv is still asleep, softly snoring as she clutches the pillow beneath her head. Satoru recalls the revelation he experienced the night before. He almost laughs. How did we end up like this? he wonders as his eyes trace the relaxed contours of her face. He runs his hand through the tousled white hair before gripping the roots. Frustration bubbles up deep within his core. Liv's cold and angry glare flashes in front of his eyes, causing chills to run down his spine.

Marriage is about compromise and sharing. Get used to it.

The words echo in his head. When he said it, it was a jest, a light joke to unnerve her. When she said it, it was spiteful, born from pain - a pain he caused. She never looked at me like that, he notes and lets go of his hair, letting his arm drop to his lap. He feels beaten and lost, the sensation reminiscent of what he felt once before.

Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest?

"Damn it all," he curses under his breath.

Sighing, he gets off the couch and takes a much-needed shower.

 

///

 

October 10th, 2016. / 03:58 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Mathias groans as his phone rings. Begrudgingly, he searches blindly for his phone on the nightstand. Once he feels the cool device under his fingertips, he unlocks it, shutting one eye as the display lights up. The phone stops ringing and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust before he can read the notifications. Updates from the spies, updates from Yaga - nothing important. He's half-bent on just going back to sleep. He then stops when he finds the missed phone call notification. He frowns and clicks the notification, worried Liv might've called him again. However, it isn't Liv's name that pops up when a list of calls appears on his display. He dials the same number and gets an answer after four rings.

"Mathias Drakon," the man on the other side laughs in fluent English. "Man, it's been too long!"

"You realize it's four in the morning here, Amadi?" Mathias drawls, rubbing his eyes.

"I prefer Miguel and you know that. Imagine if I called you Tsubasa Shuuin," the man answers with a shudder. "It just doesn't sound right. And what do you mean by 'here'?"

"Japan," Mathias replies in Japanese. "The Shuuin Manor, more specifically."

"I thought your ass was in Stavanger," Miguel says, noticeably confused. "What the fuck are you doing in Japan? There's no rite or something around this time of year."

Mathias groans. "Come on, Miguel. You're not a stupid man."

A silence echoes on the other side of the line, followed by a deep sigh. "So it's true. She's getting married to that bastard."

Mathias chuckles. "Is that the reason you called? To badmouth my future in-law?"

"Pft, no. She's throwing a fancy-ass party," Miguel pouts, "and I'm not even invited. Some friend she is."

"You know why you're not invited," Mathias says, rolling onto his back.

Miguel sighs again. "I know, I know. Though, I was hopeful you might do me a tiny favor."

"You want to see her," Mathias says, already expecting that to be the reason for Miguel's sudden phone call after being silent for almost three years. "Either that or he wants to see her, in which case, hell no."

"Don't worry," Miguel says and Mathias is certain that the man is rolling his eyes. "It's just me. Geto doesn't even know."

"You don't say," Mathias drawls sarcastically. "Here I thought he'd use the occasion to take Gojo's spot at the ceremony."

A short moment of silence follows. "You're being cruel, Mathias."

"I don't care," Mathias says evenly before groaning again. "I don't even want to talk about him this early. What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing big," Miguel explains, his tone slightly lower and raspier after their previous argument. "Short, sweet, casual, somewhere secluded, away from prying eyes. I don't want rumors to spread around."

Mathias thinks it over. "No funny business, Miguel. This is an important part of the plan and I won't have anyone screw it up, not even you."

"I just want to see her while I still can," he hears the man say, almost begging. "That's it."

Mathias hums then sighs in defeat. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Bring some flowers, just in case."

"Lupines, I know," the African man chuckles and then adds honestly, "Thanks, man, I appreciate it."

He then hangs up and Mathias throws the phone on the bed. He brings his arm over his eyes. No rest for the wicked, he thinks to himself.

 

///

 

October 10th, 2016. / 05:31 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv smells pancakes as her eyes flutter open. She grunts as she stretches her limbs before sitting up straight. Yawning, she rubs her eyes before recognizing the sizzle of an oiled pan. Turning her head toward the source of the sound, she sees - or rather, peeks with one eye still clouded - someone in the kitchen area. That someone has white hair.

Either that or a furry hat.

She frowns as she nudges closer, sniffing the smell of fresh pancakes. A satisfied hum escapes her throat and she regrets it. The hum is loud enough to draw Satoru's attention. He doesn't look at her but he smirks all the same.

"Good morning," he says, flipping the pancake.

Liv squints her eyes, suspicious of his leisurely behavior before looking outside the window wall, realizing it's barely sunrise. "Morning?"

He chuckles. "Well, early morning. It's five thirty."

She blinks, her vision clear as she notices he's in a simple white t-shirt and grey slacks, without his blindfold, and probably barefoot. "You're making pancakes at five in the morning?"

"Five thirty," he corrects her and places a plate with cooked pancakes on the island counter. "I had nothing better to do and I was craving something sweet. Thought I'd make some for you too."

Liv closes her eyes and takes a few deep, calming breaths. "Why are you doing this?"

Satoru frowns. "What do you mean?"

"This," she says, pointing grossly at the pancakes and himself. "All of this. What do you hope to gain?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

She tries hard not to scoff. He's being coy, she notes. He's trying to ease the tension from last night. She crosses her arms and remains quiet.

He then points to the plate with pancakes. "Aren't you gonna try them at least?"

She rolls her eyes and takes a small step forward, the smell of the pancakes tempting her. "Didn't know you can cook. Sure it's edible?"

"I made the dinner we ate at school, Liv," he says, offended.

She quirks a brow. "Really? I thought you ordered it or something. It'd explain why you don't cook - like ever."

"That's because you're here now," Satoru throws his head back, exposing his pale neck as he laughs.

She doesn't say anything. Is he ignoring last night? What the hell is going on? Did I miss something while asleep?

"There is fruit in the fridge," he says while pointing at the appliance. "I know you like honey but I don't know if I have any. There's some maple syrup left somewhere."

A lump forms in her throat but she swallows it successfully. She then takes a good look around. Is there a hidden camera?

"The Gojo clan will be present at the ceremony," he says, still focused on the pancake. "The elders made a fuss about us getting married according to the Shuuin customs but they will behave so at least we don't have to worry about them."

There's a hidden camera somewhere, she notes inwardly while looking under the counters and bar stools.

"Ijichi mentioned something about a dance," he continues as he turns around. "Is it like ballroom stuff or - Liv?"

She springs up from under the island, her eyes narrowed.

He mirrors her expression. "What are you doing?"

"Looking for a camera," she says without a second thought.

He blinks. "A camera?"

"Never mind," she waves it off, sitting on the barstool and leaning toward him. "Are you kidding me?"

Satoru's lips stretch into a confused smile. "I'm just making pancakes."

"Either you're kidding me," she says, lacing her fingers together, "or you're playing stupid. Which is it?"

Satoru sighs. He turns off the stove, placing the last pancake on the plate before putting the pan into the sink. She doesn't say anything as she follows his every move. His feet shuffle against the marble floor as he walks around the island. She remains cool as he stands beside her, her hazel eyes meeting his Six Eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Liv blinks a few times. I must be hearing it wrong.

"I made a big deal out of a stupid thing such as a binding vow," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair.

He's being even weirder than usual, she muses. There's a punchline in there, Drakon.

"Liv?" he asks, waving a hand in her face. "You there?"

Nope, she almost says. I'm way off into the stratosphere. Meanwhile, Satoru digs into the pancakes.

"Take your time," he says as he takes a mouthful of the plump treat, draining it in maple syrup. "We still need to talk about that dancing thing, though."

She's not ready to talk about 'that dancing thing' for ten minutes.

 

///

 

October 12th, 2016. / 12:22 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Days continue to pass and Liv struggles to accept Satoru's apology. She is fed up with his quasi-paranoia, no matter how justified and that night on the couch was the last drop. She makes it very clear to him that she doesn't forgive him.

He is patient and almost considerate, however. There are no more games, no more manipulations. He is invested in the wedding plans, ensuring everything is how she wants it to be. He offered to have the Gojo house staff wait on the guests. He shortened the list of invites. He had the excess decor thrown into the garbage.

It changes nothing, she notes stubbornly at some point.

Yet, a small part of her wishes to let go of the grudge as he did apologize.

She felt especially soft when she noticed Megumi and Tsumiki weren't on the guest list. She knows that their presence would invoke rumors and protests from the higher-ups. Realistically speaking, they have no business attending such a gathering; Megumi is a Zen'in but also not Zen'in, and Tsumiki is barely associated with the jujutsu society. Yet, when Liv asks Satoru to include the Fushiguro siblings regardless, he concurs immediately.

"Tsumiki can pick out a good dress on her own but I'll have to get Megumi to the tailor's," Satoru says before he phones the Fushiguro household. "Traditional or black and tie?"

Liv tells him to go with whatever the boy prefers (he chooses black and tie).

The last-minute changes unnerve Matthias but as always, he obliges (and voices his frustrations again with the wedding). Everything else proceeds per schedule and three days before the event, the bride and groom arrive at the Shuuin Manor to get their wedding outfits fitted.

"I don't get why no one lives at the Manor," Satoru comments as they climb the steps. "It's not like it's run down or anything."

Liv hums as her eyes gaze around, admiring the forest surrounding the premises of the Manor. "That's true but the appearance isn't the problem."

He frowns and then rolls his eyes. "Because of the thing?"

Liv finds his codename for the Vow of Silence very much in line with his character. "No, it's not the thing. It's just - "

She then halts her steps as she takes a deep breath. "This is not a home, Gojo. Nothing is nurturing about this place. That's why no one stays here unless necessary."

Satoru pouts as they come closer to the Manor itself. "Still a waste."

Liv agrees silently. "It has its purpose, it's just not the best place to raise children."

"Speaking of," Satoru begins and as she glances at him, she sees a touch of blush on the apples of his cheeks. "The Gojo elders think that's the reason for our rushed wedding."

She is silent, at first wondering what he is referring to. When the realization dawns on her, she presses her lips together. She stifles her laughter and Satoru's blush deepens.

"Oh that's golden," her voice vibrates as giggles escape her throat. "Wow Gojo, even your clan thinks low of you."

"Shut up," Satoru feels the heat spreading from his face to his neck and nape. "I thought you should know, in case you hear rumors."

She laughs, an amused smile on her lips as she gazes at him. "Do you even want them?"

He turns his head toward her. "What? Children?"

"Yes," she says, adding, "I think you're just an overgrown child yourself and it'd be too much of a hassle."

He pouts. "I'm not a child."

She sighs.

"I also took care of Megumi and Tsumiki for years, thank you very much," he says in poor defense.

"They're your wards so you didn't raise them, it's a huge difference, you know," Liv counters. "Megumi in particular is more of an investment. You said so yourself."

"Be that as it may," he says honestly, "I've grown to like them."

"You're not a parental figure to them, though," she reasons. "Maybe a wacky uncle at best."

Fitting term. "Are you saying I'm materialistic, then?"

"Tsk, more like an opportunist," Liv counters again. "I believe you're capable of bonding with people, it's just that when it comes to unconditional affection and camaraderie, that began and ended with Geto."

Satoru stiffens at the mention of their estranged friend. She rarely speaks of Suguru, especially in his presence. Liv also feels slightly taken aback by her slip of the tongue. Shit. It takes Satoru a short while to collect his thoughts and once he's sober again, he realizes her particular choice of words. That began and ended with Geto. A curious thought crosses his mind. No way, don't tell me -

"Are you jealous?" he asks, himself surprised.

She frowns but doesn't look at him as she answers. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, wait up," he says as he blocks her path. "You really think so?"

"Think what, Gojo?" she asks, annoyed with him and the smirk on his lips makes her feel even worse.

He leans toward her, craning his neck so he's on the same eye level as he pulls his blindfold down, revealing the cerulean orbs. He remains silent, using his imposing presence to his advantage.

She feels a lump in her throat growing as she answers evenly, "I think your relationship with me is different than what you shared with Geto."

"And that would be?" he probes, noticing that she used 'relationship' instead of 'friendship'.

Liv thrusts her chin forward and Satoru knows he hit the nerve. He doesn't answer her question. He could but he doesn't want to. I should film this, he thinks mirthfully as he observes her face.

She finally sighs. "Nothing, it doesn't matter."

He watches as she walks around him. For a second, he wants to stop her. Their ongoing conversation is a topic they never discussed before and he is very interested in what she has to say. But he chooses otherwise and watches her walk up the stairs, his eyes lingering on her behind. He chuckles as he pulls down his blindfold before he follows her.

Meanwhile, Liv stomps up the stairs, furious (at herself mostly and her big mouth) as she reaches the Manor in just a few steps. She takes a deep breath before looking around the Manor. It is mostly empty but she feels residuals of several spies, including Tove. Mathias' residuals are there as well.

"I expected a bigger crowd," Satoru says as he joins her at her side. "I thought you told them we were coming?"

"I did," Liv says, refusing to look at him. 

Satoru nods and follows her as she opens the door and welcomes him inside. He nods in gratitude and she rolls her eyes. She then closes the door, searching for anyone present.

While called Manor, the house itself is not big. It was built as a gathering place rather than a living space. The house is an elegant display of power and prestige without being overly on the nose. There are five rooms, three bathrooms, and a common room, all organized in a U shape. Surrounding the entire Manor is a half-closed veranda. Separately from the house itself, positioned inside the U shape, are a kitchen area and the main hall. Their forge is located further into the woods while the storage is beneath the house.

"Cozy," Satoru comments. "You know, this is my first time inside the Manor."

"Congrats, Gojo," Liv says evenly.

"Sister?"

The two halt as Mathias emerges from one of the rooms, followed by Tove. Liv smiles at the two and they offer her a curt bow. Satoru remains poised as he observes the exchange.

"Are we in a better mood today, brother?" Liv asks and Satoru figures there has to be reason for her to ask such a question.

Mathias rolls his eyes. "I will be the moment this wedding is over."

"Don't be like that, herre," Tove chides him before bowing to Satoru. "Welcome, Gojo-san."

"Thank you for having me," he replies, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

Mathias points to the rooms on his left. "We have your outfits ready. Liv, your dress is in the left room, Gojo's outfit is in the one on the right."

Satoru winks at Liv as he makes his way to the room on the right. "I'll see you soon then, future wifey."

Liv rolls her eyes once more today.

"Real piece of work," Mathias sighs and follows the Gojo head while Tove beckons Liv to the room on the right.

"After you," the woman says in Norwegian and Liv follows without question.

Once inside, Liv is mesmerized by the dress displayed on a rack nearby. As she has requested, the dress resembles her traditional robes albeit altered to accommodate the occasion. It is an all-white outfit, consisting of a white long-sleeved gown, a hand-embroidered long-sleeved robe, and a white belt. A wedding crown is also part of the ensemble. Liv inspects the robe first. The silver spider lilies are life-like and the blue dragon claws on the shoulders are intricate and detailed. Tiny golden chains have been sown into the robe's hems and the back is covered in a silver dragonfly motif.

"The runes clashed with the robe's design," Tove comments and then points to the wedding gown, "so we've sown them onto the dress."

"That's perfect," Liv nods, genuinely happy with how it all turned out considering she gave them a complicated design to pull off. "And the mask?"

Tove motions for one of the artisans to bring the box with the wedding mask. As Tove opens the box, Liv takes the mask and turns it in her hands. The Shuuin use wire masks instead of vails and they're always custom-made.

"Fox," she notes before her eyes meet Tove's. "Whose idea?"

Tove offers a curt bow. "Herre Mathias chose the design. He found it fitting."

Liv squints her eyes but says nothing as she returns the mask. Herre Mathias, she mocks internally. If it weren't for the attendees present, you'd be mouthing him off from the top of your lungs.

"Please," Tove says, inviting her to a podium.

Liv nods as she steps onto the platform. She allows the attendees to take off her clothes. Meanwhile, Satoru stands on the podium while Mathias oversees the fitting. He feels the older Drakon's scrutinizing stare and calls him out for it.

"I know you hate me," Satoru says with a smirk. "If looks could kill, not even my Infinity could work against those icicles."

Mathias is quiet for a while before he sighs. "I don't hate you, Gojo."

"You sure?" the white-haired man asks as he hands over his blindfold to one of the artisans. "Seems like it to me."

The blond-haired Shuuin gives him a stern glare.

Satoru grins. "So, do I become the leader of the Shuuin now?"

Mathias shakes his head. "No. You are the leader of the Gojo clan. Our loyalties lie with our mistress."

"But I can give orders," he notes, knowing he's incorrect but still wants to know where he will stand among the Shuuin, "which you must follow."

"The Shuuin are not like the Great Three," Mathias explains evenly though Satoru can sense the impatience in his tone. "We follow whom we choose, not the one who thinks they should be followed."

Interesting. "Huh. So, what's this dance thing I'm supposed to do?"

Mathias tries not to roll his eyes at the other man's lack of decorum. "It is a ritual dance meant to solidify the relationship between the spouses. The steps are not complicated."

"Is there a secret step or something I should know?" Satoru asks and though he feigns obliviousness, Mathias is aware of the sarcasm in his words and ignores it.

"The dance itself is meant to illustrate the union of two souls," Mathias explains. "It holds no value in terms of power or exchange thereof. It's just a dance."

"Why are we doing it then?" Satoru asks as he puts on the white silk shirt. "Seems unnecessary."

Mathias' features turn somewhat gloomy as he says, "It was a part of our parents' wedding ceremony. Liv wanted it this way."

Satoru's smirk falls and he ceases his round of questions for now as he continues to put on the wedding outfit. While he doesn't say it outright, he likes the design. It is a five-piece outfit: a white silk shirt, wide-legged pants, a dark blue robe, and a light blue shawl draping over his right shoulder while fastened with braided golden chains. The robe is tied with a thick and richly decorated purple sash. There are a lot of dragonflies embroidered on the robe and it reminds him of a yukata he wore as a child which he figures was the inspiration for the design.

"My compliments to the seamstress," he says honestly as he feels the fabric of his sleeves. "A bit unconventional but not bad."

"It was Liv's design," Mathias says with a tinge of pride. "She wanted to pay homage to your clan while sticking to the Shuuin traditions."

Someone's surprisingly thoughtful of yours truly, he smirks. "Well, my bride is an artist as well. Didn't expect anything less."

Mathias doesn't indulge him with a follow-up and they remain quiet for the remainder of the fitting. Half an hour later, as the artisans make small adjustments to both outfits, Liv and Satoru proceed to the main hall where they will do the walkthrough of the ceremony. Satoru carefully observes the main hall where the wedding itself will take place. It is already decorated with fortune charms and flowers, mainly white lilies and irises, along with pastel-colored ribbons hanging from the beams. Satoru notices that the floor is covered in tatami mats. I guess we are barefoot for the wedding, Satoru wonders. That explains why there were no shoes in the fitting.

The bride and groom are instructed on the key points of the ceremony and as Mathias goes on, Satoru finds himself more and more bored by the whole ordeal. Dress, undress, walk, talk, bow - the list seems endless. At one point, Satoru even yawns. Liv nudges his side and he gets startled. He looks at her and she nods toward Mathias, silently reminding Satoru to pay attention. Reluctant, he breathes out through his nose and focuses again. His interest perks up once Mathias talks about the dance thing.

"Liv will walk you through it," Mathias says. "The drumbeat will accompany you during the ceremony itself."

Drum? Satoru stares quizzically at the older Drakon sibling as he retreats from the hall, glancing at his sister on his way out. Liv remains poised as she offers Satoru her hand. The Gojo clan head looks at the hand and then at his betrothed before smirking.

"First jealousy, now chivalry," he says, taking her hand. "I'm learning a lot of new things about you today."

Liv rolls her eyes for the umpteenth time today. "Concentrate, please. The sooner we get this down, the sooner we can leave."

"I don't know," he says as he laces his fingers with her own, playing with the engagement ring he gave her. "I like this little dancing lesson."

"Gojo - " she frowns and he silences her by flicking her forehead (it hurts).

"Relax, I'm just kidding," he laughs. "You're so stiff today."

She again rolls her eyes as she positions his hand for the dance. Satoru follows her instructions without complaint, throwing in a comment or two here and there. She appreciates the silence for the most part but the closeness starts to unnerve her quickly. You wanted this Drakon, so suck it up, she reminds herself while internally fighting with the discomfort of being so close to him. Luckily, the dance doesn't include much proximity though Satoru makes sure to poke fun at her each time their fingers touch.

"I think I'm falling in love," he teases.

Liv groans. "Gojo, please, I'm exhausted. I can't deal with your antics right now."

"Liv," he whines, nestling his face into the crook of her neck. "Can't you take a joke?"

She forces him away by nudging her shoulder closer to her earlobe. "I can when you're not getting on my nerves."

"It's part of my charm," he whines before pouting. "You used to like it. I want the old Liv back."

"That's enough for today, Gojo, please," she says, exasperated.

The look in her eye is almost begging. Satoru wants to tease her further but he can tell she wants to leave as soon as possible. He remains silent for the rest of the lesson.

 

///

 

 

October 12th, 2016. / 16:41 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo , Japan

 

It is late afternoon by the time they return to the penthouse.

Satoru asks if Liv wants to shower first but she waves him off, letting him go first instead. Once she hears the door shut, she sighs as she sits at the dining table with her head resting on her forearms. The day was too long and arduous, and Satoru's antics peaked today to the point she couldn't brush it off anymore. The teasing, the flirting - it's too much and the anxiety before the wedding is just making her feel worse.

She groans. Why is this so hard? she wonders, finding the situation ridiculous. Why do I feel so repulsed by his presence?

"He's trying," she almost whimpers. "Why can't you just let it go?"

Her mother's words ring in her ear. For a sorcerer, trust is a gamble they often lose. She scrunches her nose in frustration. Let it go, let it go, let it go, she repeats the words to herself, over and over. You are not your mother, you are Liv Drakon. 

"Damn it," she sighs as she grips the roots of her hair. It shouldn't be this hard.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Liv gasps as she lifts her gaze and finds him hovering. How long has he been there? she wonders as her eyes meet his Six Eyes. He is still in his uniform. He didn't take a shower yet?

"You're really lost in thought if you haven't heard me calling your name," he says softly. "Like, four times."

She stares at him dumbfounded before mumbling just as dumbly, "What?"

He sits on the chair closest to her, his hands clasped in front of him as he leans toward her. "Stress is getting to you."

She is silent for a while longer before she swallows. "That obvious, huh."

He is silent for a moment. "Wanna talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?" Liv scoffs. "Mathias is right, this is getting ridiculous. We should wrap it up quickly."

Satoru grins at her. "See? That's called optimism. Keep at it, you're doing great!"

She glares at him. He grins.

"And we have two more days to go," she breathes out and rubs her face with her right hand. "All this planning, organizing, arguing, it's so - ugh."

"Right?" Satoru agrees, a childish grin on his face. "Look at you, you're practically falling apart."

"Thanks," she groans, nursing her forehead. "Your support is deeply appreciated."

"You're welcome," he says proudly.

She chuckles, despite herself and he chuckles as well. Their eyes meet and they laugh, the echo of their brief moment of joy echoing in the empty penthouse.

Chapter 7: Lady In White

October 15th, 2016. / 12:22 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Liv is steady as Tove helps her put on her bridal crown. The thing is a masterpiece, an old family heirloom of her father's clan, the Dreki's. Made of silver, it fits perfectly with the rest of her bridal outfit. Some cleaning was needed so the Shuuin craftsmen treated the jewelry piece carefully. Liv is surprised and glad that the crown managed to withstand the test of time. She half-expected never to wear it. And then, Gojo called, she muses to herself, a small smile resting on her lips. 

Tove skillfully woves strands of her hair around the curved prongs of the crown. Luckily, the spymaster has experience braiding hair over the years and has done astonishing work with the wedding hairstyle.

Liv takes in her reflection in the mirror. There is not a lot of makeup, as she will be wearing a mask over it. A bit of mascara, some rouge on her cheeks and lips, and a bit of concealer to hide blemishes and the purplish skin under her eyes. Tove begged her to put at least eyeliner as well if not eyeshadow so she complied and is now sporting short chocolate brown wings in the outer corners of her eyes. 

Decent, her mother would say. Beautiful, her father would say. If only he were here, she thinks to herself woefully. Granted, if her father were to be here, on this day, he'd probably argue with her on account of her getting married to a man she does not love and does not fully trust. Honesty and trust are paramount in any relationship. That's what he said when she asked him why he left her mother all those years ago. He might've even snuck her out of the whole event, and taken her back to Norway. You don't need this to be happy, he'd say. Forget about it all.

Yet, he is not here and she can't be whisked away from the wedding as if in a fairy tale nor can she flip off a middle one at this entire affair and call it a day. This is the real world and here, she's caught between a rock and a hard place. Promises were made, deals were struck and people were manipulated to get her to this point. Once you're done with this, then you can flip off whomever and whatever you want, as much as you want. The thought makes her smile slightly.

The spymaster catches the subtle hint of a grin on her mistress' face and smiles in return.

"Nervous?" she asks and Liv scoffs. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"Wouldn't you be?" Liv asks in return. "I'm marrying 'the strongest sorcerer alive'. That title alone comes with a ton of baggage. I can already imagine the numerous assassination attempts."

"Don't worry, I've got you covered," the spymaster muses as she braids fair locks around the crown.

"I'm getting married, Tove," Liv whispers, almost in awe. "I'm about to marry the man I don't even - "

She doesn't finish the sentence but her spy understands.

"Not like that, that is," Liv points out.

"So you do in some way?" Tove teases.

The Shuuin mistress sighs in defeat as she looks down at her lap. "There are feelings involved, I just don't know what kind."

Tove hums in response. "You never spoke much about him."

"No, I don't think I have," Liv responds softly.

"Yet," Tove continues, "he's been a big part of your life. You've known him since your early childhood."

The Shuuin mistress sighs. "That's also true."

"So why can't you just be honest with each other?" Tove asks, putting jade-tipped pins into the bride's hair. "You chose him, Liv, and while Gojo is - "

Liv quirks a brow. "Strange? Weird?"

"Unique," Tove says, biting down her tongue, "he agreed to this marriage and I think it's because he cares about you."

The bride almost - almost - says something nasty about Satoru 'caring' about her but decides to settle for a curled lip instead.

"You have to get along with him," Tove says, clicking her tongue. "People will quickly notice the real nature of your relationship if you keep your distance."

"Easier said than done," Liv says, a sad smile plastered on her face. "It has been so long. I've changed and he's changed, and - "

"There must be some affection left between you," Tove offers kindly. "He kept sending you all those postcards and photographs over the years. Mathias said he sent you gifts as well."

Liv scoffs again. "Souvenirs."

"I beg your pardon?" Tove wonders.

"It was a high school thing," Liv muses. "He and his classmates did it often, and they included me at some point."

"Anyway, I may not trust that man much but I applaud his courage," Tove continues. "It takes a lot of balls to tie the knot like this, strongest or not. He's been patient with you these days."

"You know," Liv chuckles as she says, "I don't know if you're hyping me up or slamming me down."

The spymaster smirks. "I can do both."

"Indeed," Liv says before she nods in agreement. "But yeah, you're probably right."

Tove then leans in, whispering mischievously in her mistress' ear, "And while you're at it, you might as well reap the benefits."

Liv quirks a brow. "What benefits?"

"Oh, you know," the brunette adds coyly, "that thing married couples do - "

"Tove," Liv gasps, a blush forming on her cheeks. 

"What? He's got good genes and you're a catch as well," Tove says, knowing she's making Liv flustered. "Your babies will be beautiful, no doubt."

"You're unbelievable," Liv curses under her breath, trying to hide the raging blush on her face.

Tove just sniggers at her mistress.

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 12:35 / Fushiguro Residence, Saitama, Japan

 

Megumi struggles with the tie around his neck. He's been trying to make it for too long - long enough for Tsumiki to notice.

"Let me," she chuckles as she steps in. "You'll wrinkle your shirt."

The boy grumbles as his sister makes short work of his tie and then fixes his collar. "There, now you look handsome."

He scoffs but she can see a tinge of blush on his pale cheeks. Megumi is not used to blatant flattery, even from his sister.

"Whatever," he mumbles as he leaves the house, followed by Tsumiki who has a satisfied grin on her face. "Remember, don't talk to anyone you don't know."

"I know, I know," the girl sighs, holding the hem of her long periwinkle dress in her hand while descending the stairs.

Megumi frowns. "Also, we leave after the ceremony is done. Gojo doesn't want us exposed for too long."

"Yes, sir," Tsumiki salutes him mockingly as they walk to the other side of the house.

They quickly notice that Ijichi is already waiting for them with the car parked in front of the house.

"Ijichi-san," Tsumiki says, offering a curt bow. "Sorry for the wait."

"Don't worry, I just got here," he says, opening the door for them to enter.

Megumi beckons his sister to get inside first and he follows afterward. Ijichi makes sure they're inside before shutting the door. He then walks around the vehicle and opens the driver's side before settling on the seat.

"Gojo-san instructed me to escort you to the ceremony and back home," Ijichi says as he fastens his seatbelt. "Whenever you wish to go, just let me know."

"Thank you so much," Tsumiki says while Megumi merely nods.

Ijichi smiles before starting the engine and they ride off toward the Shuuin Manor.

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 12:47 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Satoru is no stranger to rigorous traditions and customs (charms of being a member of the Gojo family), but he finds Shuuin to be unusually pragmatic. The bride and groom prepare separately, with attendees (Gojo staff in Satoru's case) helping them put on their wedding outfits. Satoru notices that he is correct when he assumes they will be barefoot for the ceremony as they are meant to wear only socks. Is there at least a carpet on the way to the main hall? he briefly wonders. Once he's finally dressed, Satoru dismisses his staff and waits for the cue to leave his room. Not long after, he hears the two bell rings and takes a deep breath.

Now in the hallway, Satoru is guided by the Shuuin spies to where Liv waits. Part of the Shuuin tradition is to have the bride and the groom meet in private before exchanging vows.

"It is a last chance for one to bail," Liv explained to him the night before. "With some dignity, at least."

When he asked her if he should do it for giggles, he earned an Arctic-cold stare from the Shuuin mistress. She then explained how the whole thing was meant to give future spouses a moment to calm their nerves before the wedding.

The room where they are supposed to meet is another one of the guest rooms in the Manor. It is the closest to the main hall where the ceremony will be. As he walks, he notices a narrow purple carpet under his feet. It stretches throughout the Manor and outside. At least I won't spend my honeymoon stuck with a cold, he remarks sarcastically. Not that it'd make much of a difference anyway. Satoru then halts in front of the bride's room and waits for the spies to open the door.

"Mistress," one of them says, "Gojo-san is here."

"Let him in."

He's calm as the Shuuin spy opens the door and his gaze falls on Liv. She's sitting by the window and though there is a screen on all the windows to hide their privacy, the morning light still peeks through the small gaps, illuminating her entire visage. Liv dismisses Tove, along with the other attendees. On her way out, Tove offers a curt bow to the groom which he acknowledges with a nod. She leaves the room wordlessly and closes the door behind her.

The silence is heavy as the two remain alone. They haven't spoken much today, mostly keeping their chats brief and informational. Longer conversations took place only when Satoru asked something related to the ceremony itself. It is clear that there is still tension between them but neither wants to feel like that on their wedding day.

Liv breaks the ice, sighing softly as she stands up.

"So," she begins, turning around to face him. "How do I look?"

He checks her out head to toe and gives her his signature cocky grin.

"It hides too much," he says though he does find her beautiful in her wedding outfit.

"Ass," she scoffs as she approaches him, inspecting his outfit. "It looks good on you."

"Everything looks good on me," he says, his narcissism shining through.

Liv musters a lopsided grin as she says, "You're full of yourself, Gojo."

"Call me Satoru," he makes a sour face. "People will find it weird if you call me by my last name."

"Okay, okay," she says, raising her hands in mocking defeat.

Satoru chuckles and then looks at the floor, sneaking glimpses of her.

"I can't promise you much, you know," he says suddenly with a hint of remorse. "I'm not a husband material."

Liv presses her lips into a thin line. "I don't have any expectations of you, Gojo. You can continue your bachelor life uninterrupted."

"I know," he says with a chuckle, "and while I appreciate your selflessness, I will respect the integrity of this marriage."

Liv looks down as she says, "Gojo, I - "

"Satoru," he corrects her.

"Satoru," she sighs and continues, "I understand what you're trying to say but there's no need to do that."

He still smiles at her. "I know."

"Besides," she says dismissively, "it's not like this is a real marriage."

"Even if it's not real, let's make it work," he says honestly. "Imagine, a Shuuin and a Gojo, against the world. Our marriage will be insanely better than most other marriages."

She hums, saying, "Us against the world, huh."

"Look at us," Satoru chuckles, his eyes glimmering with mischief as he says, "So vulnerable with each other."

"Yeah," Liv says, her voice slightly higher than usual. "It's disgusting."

They laugh and for a moment, they feel like teenagers all over again, shooting hoops and dancing to ridiculous tracks on the radio.

"Promise me something?" he asks. "Smile when I take off that mask."

She scoffs but nods anyway.

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 13:30 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The bell rings three times as the bride and groom walk up the aisle.

The entire backyard of the Manor is occupied with wedding guests, most of them being Shuuin and Gojo clan members. The initial plan was to invite leaders of all respectable clans, including the Zen'in and Kamo. However, Liv changed her mind after realizing that the Zen'in might make a scene, given their long-standing feud with the Gojo clan. Inviting the Kamo clan was consequently also out of the question. Instead, they stuck to inviting only the Council members as planned. Liv also proposed to have their comrades attend the event but Satoru was adamant about not inviting his colleagues.

"This is a formal event, not a celebration," he reasoned. "Besides, people talk at these sorts of gatherings and I don't want the higher-ups to hear something they shouldn't. We'll make it up to them and throw a separate party if you want."

Liv took a rain check on that idea but complied with his wishes as he barely had any regarding the wedding as a whole.

The main hall is occupied by only Shuuin and Gojo elders, including Mathias in ornate ceremonial garb. He is joined by Rune and Tove acting as shrine maidens in the ceremony, handing him the necessary tools for the union ritual.

"Here they come," Tove whispers jitterly to Mathias.

"Our mistress is so pretty," Rune comments in a hushed tone. "Herre Gojo is handsome as well."

Mathias remains silent.

The guests turn their heads toward the back door of the Manor as Liv and Satoru step outside, hand in hand. Their feet touch the path that is covered in white linen. It stretches to the main hall where they will perform the ritual. The guests' attention is now solely on the bride and groom.

"Wow," Tsumiki says softly in awe as she leans toward her brother. "They look good together."

He merely grumbles in response. Megumi doesn't outright agree with his sister as he thinks Liv is more juxtaposing his mentor.

The rest of the guests take notes as the two walk up the aisle. At one point, Satoru glances at his future wife, his gaze lingering on her face. To onlookers, they are a happy couple, excited and ready to embark on a new journey together.

Meanwhile, Liv and Satoru bicker incessantly on their way to the main hall. They keep their voices down and try not to move their lips as they argue.

"Liv, I don't have Infinity on now. Ease up on that grip."

"Shut up. Oh God, I think I'm going to hurl."

"Please don't puke on me. There's Gakuganji, splash him."

"You idiot."

"As if you don't want to."

"Yes but not now, jackass."

"Come on, it's gonna be funny."

Liv resists the urge to whine.

Their anxiety skyrocketed the moment they came out into the backyard. Liv's palms are sweating and Satoru can feel a lump in his throat forming. Luckily for her, her wire mask is dense enough to cover her expression whereas Satoru has to keep his face relaxed.

Hand in hand, the bride and groom slowly but surely walk past the mass of people waiting for them to exchange vows and unite two clans. Liv grips Satoru's hand even tighter, her knuckles turning white. Satoru doesn't show how much her nails are digging into his skin.

He halts at the main hall before helping Liv walk over the slight step. She holds a chunk of the dress before pulling it upward, allowing more room for her feet to move without accidentally tripping and falling face-first on the ground (imagine that happening). Once inside the hall, Liv holds  Satoru's hand again and they resume their stride until they reach her brother. Mathias begins the ritual shortly, carefully guiding the newlyweds through the ordeal.

"We have gathered here today to celebrate the joining of two clans through a union of our leaders," he says with a smile Liv can only describe as pained. "Marriage is a sacred bond, meant to be cherished and honored for as long as the spouses walk this plane."

His speech continues as he regales the importance and sanctity of the marriage. Liv gets bored quickly and so does Satoru. Mathias notices the slightly absent gaze on his brother-in-law's face at some point. Taking it as a cue to proceed, he begins the ritual shortly afterward. The couple first bows to the officiant and then, he instructs them to face each other. Doing as told, they turn on their heels, facing one another, barely an arm's length apart.

"For a Shuuin, choosing a lifelong partner is as frightening as it is fulfilling," Mathias says softly, glancing at his sister. "We offer ourselves bare, completely submitting to whatever may come on the way. No secrets, no holding back."

Mathias then motions for Satoru to take the fox mask which he promptly does, reaching behind Liv's ears and unhooking it. The mask feels heavier than he expected before handing it to Tove. Liv sees a wolfish grin appear on Satoru's face. Sticking to her promise, she grins as well.

"We will proceed with the unification ritual," Mathias announces.

He then offers them a cup of mauled wine, each taking three sips. He then has Rune reach for the soft rice cake and gives it to the groom. Satoru bites into the rice cake before passing it to Liv. Ignoring that they might as well kiss at that point, she bites into the soft confectionery. She notices Satoru subtly licking his lips once he swallows his bit and winks at her. She ignores that but still giggles at how ridiculous he looks.

They wait patiently as Tove reaches for the cushion where the wedding rings have been placed and she passes it to Mathias who holds it in front of the newlyweds. 

"Mistress," he says to his sister, offering her the ring.

Liv nods and reaches for the larger ring before holding Satoru's right hand. "I will honor this man, cherish, protect, and trust. I will be truthful, loyal, and unwavering in my support of him. Before the ancestors' gaze and for the time unending, I solemnly swear."

She looks him in the eye and pushes the ring onto his finger. Her anxiety dissipates afterward, as if a burden was lifted. She finds herself breathing more easily, comfortable under his touch.

Mathias then nods to Satoru, indicating his turn to recite vows. The Gojo clan head nods, taking the remaining ring between his fingers.

He says, "I will honor this woman, cherish, protect, and trust. I will be truthful, loyal, and unwavering in my support of her. Before the ancestors' gaze and for the time unending, I solemnly swear."

Satoru reaches out, holding Liv's hand gently in his grasp. Her engagement ring glistens at this particular angle and Satoru traces the imaginary line from her ring finger over her shoulder, neck, and face. He smiles as he places the wedding ring next to the engagement ring.

"May you walk this path in life in harmony and joy," Mathias blesses the couple before offering them a deep bow. 

Tove and Rune retreat from the main hall while Mathias remains as the drummers enter. Satoru offers his hand to Liv, wordlessly inviting her to follow him. She takes his hand and Satoru walks them toward the center of the main hall. They wait for Tove and Rune to approach them with a long red silk fabric. The spouses take the fabric in each hand before touching each other's palms. Mathias signals for the drummers to begin the ritual.

The dance is a steady set of steps, mainly done in a circular motion. The partners dance around each other, slowly creating distance while holding onto the silk at each end. They keep constant eye contact as they get further away from each other.

"The dance used to be called the Twin's Embrace," Satoru recalls Liv saying during their dance practice. "With twins being inauspicious for sorcerers, the Shuuin used the dance as a ritual to transfer cursed energy from one twin to another."

"What happened to the twin left without cursed energy?" Satoru asked, genuinely curious. "Did they die?"

"Not always," Liv replied. "The ritual was a tool to stabilize the transfer and minimize the chance of casualties. We no longer use it as such."

"Why?"

"Don't know," Liv said, her eyes somewhat sad. "Nevertheless, the dance itself is quite the experience."

Satoru didn't understand at the time what she meant by those words but as the rhythm picks up, he feels his heartbeat quicken. Being as far apart as the silk between them allows, they tug on it. Liv's turns are swift and mesmerizing as she rolls the fabric around her forearm. Satoru does the same. His movements are precise as he shortens the silk, bringing himself closer to his wife.

Wife.

That is what she is to him now. His wife, his life partner. She is his to cherish and protect. The entire reason for this charade is pushed away, ignored in favor of the feeling burning in his chest. He twirls and dances, and sways to the rhythm of the drums. His eyes are fixed on Liv's mesmerizing movements, enchanting yet powerful in some way.

They can hardly hear anything else around them, except for the poundings of their hearts. Even the drums fade into the background as they dance. Satoru wonders if Liv feels the same excitement and rush that he feels coursing through his veins. What is this? he wonders but even that thought is pushed aside as he's left with only the feeling, the sensation itself. The beatings of the drum go faster the closer the two get, halting abruptly as they finally clasp their hands and touch each other's forearms.

They breathe heavily, despite the dance not being physically demanding. Their hearts beat rapidly. Liv can almost hear the drumming against Satoru's chest. She resists the urge to touch his mediastinum to feel it. 

"Wow," Satoru breathes out and Liv laughs softly in return.

As they unravel the fabric, they are approached by Tove and Rune who take the silk before Mathias pronounces them husband and wife. A round of applause follows. The spouses look at each other again and smile. Mathias breaks their sweet moment by resting his hands on each of their shoulders.

"Go and change," Mathias whispers, walking them out of the main hall as the guests applaud their union. "You're being watched now more than ever."

They nod subtly as they walk back to the Manor, their steps in synch as they hurry inside. It doesn't take them long to start bickering again.

"Hurry up, this thing on my head is going to break my neck," Liv hisses once they're out of earshot while tugging on his elbow to quicken his step.

"You hurry up, harpy," Satoru seethes as they enter the Manor.

Liv stifles her gasp. "Take that back, jerk."

"Talk about a complete one-eighty," he grumbles as he takes a right turn, heading to his room, "we just had a moment there."

Meanwhile, Mathias breathes out as he takes the ornate mantle off his shoulder, revealing a simple suit underneath. Thank the heavens it's over, he prays inwardly. Now onto the next. As he turns around, he is met with a curious little man wearing a simple suit and a pair of glasses. He seems out of place and slightly flustered, but overall polite and humble.

"Excuse me," the man says, "you are Liv-san's older brother?"

Mathias nods, mustering a polite smile.

"Kiyotaka Ijichi, the head assistant at Tokyo Jujutsu High," the man introduces himself and offers a curt bow. "I just wanted to say congratulations, Councilman Drakon."

"Please, just Mathias is enough," the older Drakon sibling says. "Ijichi, you said? You're escorting the Fushiguro siblings."

Ijichi smiled sheepishly, confirming the man's statement.

"You worked hard, Ijichi-san," Mathias says, offering the tired man an apologetic look. "I hope you can enjoy the reception in peace."

The man chuckles nervously. "Oh my, no need to worry about me. It was a lovely ceremony and a privilege to be at the Shuuin Manor."

"Thank you but you flatter us, Ijichi-san," Mathias says softly.

The two are interrupted by the Fushiguro siblings who call out for Ijichi. Megumi is the one to meet Mathias' eyes before bowing courteously, followed by his sister.

"Apologies for interrupting," it is his sister who speaks up.

Mathias shakes his head. "Don't worry about it. Fushiguro, I presume?"

The girl nods. "Tsumiki, sir. This is my younger brother, Megumi."

Mathias looks at the boy and for a moment, his breath hitches as the visage of a dead man flashes before his eyes. 

"Mathias Drakon," he says calmly, his eyes fixated on Megumi. "Pleasure."

"He is Liv-san's older brother," Ijichi adds.

The two stare at the man, taking in his appearance. The similarities are obvious: pale blond hair, hazel green eyes, and fair skin. The difference is Mathias' height, standing at an impressive 180 centimeters with a rather robust physique.

"You look alike," Megumi mutters absentmindedly.

"So we've been told," Mathias says in return. "I hope you're not too bored. I know this isn't a teen-friendly type of thing."

Surprised by the sudden casual tone, the two shake their heads vigorously. The men chuckle at their stiff posture.

"Was there something you needed?" Ijichi asks.

"Yeah," Megumi answers cooly. "We were thinking of heading back."

Mathias quirks a brow. "So soon? The newlyweds will rejoin us shortly."

Ijichi hums before nodding. "It may be better to wait and say goodbye to them before we leave."

Megumi grumbles but Tsumiki nudges him, giving an apologetic look. "Come on, Megumi. It won't be long."

The boy sighs. "Okay. We say our goodbyes and then we leave."

Mathias almost chuckles. You're Toji's spawn alright.

 

///

 

 

October 15th, 2016. / 14:13 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Liv flattens her dress before taking a final look in the mirror.

"Thank God, that thing is out of my hair," she says while running her fingers through the gentle waves of her hair.

She also feels grateful for being out of the wedding attire. While impressed with the design, she prefers the simplicity of the fitted long-sleeved white dress she has on now. It also allows her to move freely, without worrying if her nose will meet the floor soon. She checks if her heels fit well and are comfortable enough to walk around.

"Seems good to me," she smiles before heading outside.

Once inside the hallway, she walks toward the back door of the Manor. As she turns around the corner, she sees Satoru, already dressed in his white suit and donning his dark sunglasses, patiently waiting for her.

'Patiently' may not be the right word, though.

"I had to change into a three-piece suit while you had to get inside a freaking dress," he whines. "You're too damn slow."

Liv blinks at him in disbelief. "I had an almost half-a-kilo bridal crown on my head, Satoru. I had to untangle it myself."

He chuckles. "You called me Satoru. Aww, are you growing soft on me?"

"You asked me to call you by your name, doofus," she rolls her eyes as they lock arms.

"Still appreciated," he sings as he laces his fingers with hers. "You know, I'm starting to like this marriage thing. We should renew our vows next year."

Liv rolls her eyes before they exit the Manor and rejoin their guests. Once outside, they are immediately met by Mathias, Ijichi, and the Fushiguro siblings. Liv's face lights up at seeing the kids.

"Hey there," she says once they're within earshot.

Tsumiki beams at the Shuuin mistress who stretches out her hands toward the girl and she holds them with her own. "You are so beautiful, Liv-san!"

The older woman chuckles before taking a look at the girl as well. "Right back at you! You look gorgeous in that dress."

A blush adorns Tsumiki's cheeks as she smiles softly at the woman.

"Glad you could make it," Satoru says with a smile.

Tsumiki offers a deep bow in return. "Thank you for inviting us in the first place, Gojo-san."

Meanwhile, Megumi remains silent on the side. Liv notices the quiet boy and approaches him, a gesture that startles him slightly and causes him to take a step back. She doesn't take his actions much to heart, understanding his assertiveness around her. Mathias observes the exchange quietly.

"I'm happy to see you both," she says softly and Megumi blushes, mumbling something under his breath.

Unbeknownst to both, Satoru smiles softly at the scene before him. He rarely encourages either of the siblings to bond with him on a deeper level but he's glad to see them react positively to Liv.

"We should get going," Megumi says all of a sudden. "Right, Tsumiki?"

The girl seems somewhat sad at the prospect but still smiles as she nods, "Yeah, right."

"You can stay a while longer if you want," Liv proposes but Satoru puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

He then looks at Megumi, saying, "Head straight home. Call if anything happens."

The boy nods. "Understood."

"Thank you again," Tsumiki says with a soft smile. "It was a lovely ceremony."

Liv smiles in return. "We'll have to do the sleepover thing soon."

Tsumiki grins while Megumi merely huffs before Ijichi excuses themselves before escorting the kids off the premises.

"That went well," Mathias comments once the siblings are far away from them.

"Yeah," Liv says softly, her eyes lingering on the siblings before she turns to look at Satoru. "Guess we'd better go and fraternize with the higher-ups."

The Gojo clan head smirks. "You read my mind, dear wife."

"Actually - "

The two glance at Mathias as he says, "I was wondering if I could have a moment alone with my sister?"

Liv is visibly confused while Satoru hums in response. "Just don't take too long."

"You won't even notice her absence," Mathias says as he offers his hand to the Shuuin mistress. "Shall we?"

She squints her eyes but doesn't object as she hooks her arm under his, sparing a glance at Satoru before allowing Mathias to lead her away.

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 14:27 / Shuuin Forge, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

From: Amadi

the forge.

Mathias sighed when he read the message. He received it at 14:11 and anxiety crept in quickly afterward. The forge is not far from the Manor where the rest of the guests are. They could be easily discovered, especially by his brother-in-law. The older Drakon knows what Liv's reaction will be once she learns the reason for their sudden stroll. Yet, despite being aware of all that, he couldn't bring himself to deny the spy his request. For all his flaws, Miguel was once Liv's closest friend and he deserves a chance at closure. 

Despite her obvious disapproval of this whole arrangement.

Liv sighs. "You have some nerve showing up here."

The African man smirks. He keeps a safe distance at first.

"Did you think I'd pass the opportunity to see you?" Miguel jokes in English, shaking his head.

Liv frowns, her eyes drifting from Miguel to Mathias to Miguel again.

"He asked nicely," Mathias says in the curse user's defense. "Almost begged."

"Satoru is here," Liv seethes, looking around the forge to ensure no one's listening in on the conversation. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, I was thinking how beautiful you'd look in a wedding dress," Miguel says nonchalantly before presenting her with a bouquet of purple flowers. "Turns out, you look divine."

She scoffs. "This is not my wedding dress, dumbass."

Mathias chuckles before saying, "I'll let you two have a moment."

As he leaves, Liv focuses solely on the man. She can almost laugh at the irony. Once, he was her confidante, her staunch supporter. Out of all the spies bound to her, he's one of the few who bound themselves to her before her inauguration. The loyalty, the friendship - And look at us now. She is hesitant as she approaches him. She eyes the flowers in his hands before reaching out for them. Lupines, she notes with a smile that she hides behind the petals.

"You saw me," she says with not as even of a tone as she wanted it to be. "You can go now."

Miguel ditched his usual glasses for the occasion so Liv could see his facial expressions. "Do you resent me that much?"

Maybe. "What do you think?"

"I followed my conscience," he reasons. "I didn't betray the Shuuin. I didn't betray you."

Liv's lips stretch into a smirk. "You're a curse user, Miguel. I should kill you where you stand."

The man laughs before offering his hand to her, "I'm allowed a dying wish then?"

She takes his hand without a second thought, saying, "Depends on the wish."

He embraces her, his hands on her back and his face nestled in the crook of her neck. "This, if I may, my mistress."

Liv scoffs before circling her arms around his large back. "I ain't your mistress, oaf."

Miguel smiles against her skin. "You will always be my mistress."

They stand like that for a while before Miguel pulls away. He brings her hands into his own as he begins to sway them to a slow rhythm that only he seems to hear. Liv merely follows along, her feet shuffling in synch with his movements. The silence is profound around them, and the tension is heavier still.

"You're lucky we're here and not someplace abroad," Liv murmurs. "I want to punch you now."

Miguel hums. "Yes, I know."

He lifts her and spins her once.

"Is he well?" she asks suddenly.

"Just peachy," he responds. "Want me to say hi?"

Liv merely glares at the man and he chuckles.

"You could've just called," she sighs again.

"I missed you," the man says softly before spinning her again. "Besides, would you pick up if I called?"

Probably not, she figures. "Would you spout the same bullshit you did three years ago?"

Miguel swallows the lump in his throat. "Liv - "

"What's done is done," she says. "The Shuuin took in worse mess-ups and shits from the street. You're not the first or the last curse user in our ranks."

"I don't hear forgiveness in your voice, mistress," Miguel points out.

"Cause there ain't any," she confesses. "Just because I understand doesn't mean I approve. I'm not that good of a person."

Miguel closes his eyes. The discussion is turning heated, probing at fresh wounds and scars. Instead, he detaches from her and takes her ringed hand. He lowers his head and kisses her pale knuckles.

"Then I won't bother you much longer, mistress," he says.

He then reaches for his pockets before pulling out his phone. Liv watches as the man taps on the device a few times before turning it around toward her. She sees her image on the screen.

"You want a photo?" she asks when she realizes he opened a camera app to take a selfie.

Miguel shrugs. "It's a momentous day, after all."

She sighs before nodding and he hugs her from the side before positioning the phone so they can fit into the frame. Miguel is freakishly tall, not taller than Satoru but tall enough for Liv to feel like a dwarf even though she's not a short woman.

"Smile," he whispers when he notices her keeping the resting bitch face for a while.

She scoffs and smiles sourly.

"Smile nicely," Miguel presses, somewhat annoyed.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Liv musters the strength to offer a sincere smile - teeth and all. He snaps a photo before marveling at it.

"We look good," he comments before showing it to her. "This will be my new lock screen."

"Careful or your friend might get jealous," she comments dryly.

"Jealous of me or jealous of you?" Miguel teases.

Liv groans. "You know what - "

"I'm joking, I'm joking," the man grumbles before kissing her cheek. "Thanks for not cursing me."

For all the good it does, she thinks to herself briefly.

"Take care of yourself," she says, "Amadi."

Miguel bows in response. Feeling generous, she gives him a light pat on the shoulder before nodding her head in a random direction, silently ordering him to leave. Miguel lingers, taking in her appearance and ensuring he remembers her features before departing. With a bittersweet smile, he bids his mistress farewell and disappears into the woods.

"You can come out, brother," Liv says, her eyes glued to the back of her spy as he walks away.

Mathias emerges from behind her, watching in the same direction. "Sorry for not telling you. I thought you should say a proper goodbye, that's all."

"Is this goodbye, I wonder?" Liv murmurs. "We have a way of bumping into each other."

"And that's bad?" Mathias teases.

Liv bites her lower lip. "We should head back."

Mathias complies before offering his hand to her. "By your order, mistress."

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 14:48 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Satoru chuckles. "I'm sorry?"

The Gojo clan head believed that dealing with Mathias would be the worst part of his marriage to Liv. Yet, standing here, talking to her cousins from overseas, he wonders if he's ended up marrying the whole Shuuin clan. The three women - sisters, if the same shade of violet eyes is any indication - are noticeably flirting with him. One in particular seems interested in bedding him. They're pretty to look at, more on the sultry side but nothing impressive in his opinion. They ooze confidence but their overall appearance lacks the grace he's come to associate with the Shuuin. Even Mathias is more graceful than they are, Satoru thinks to himself, and he's a dude.

"Don't tell me you're shy, Gojo-san," the woman whose name he already forgot says, her red-painted lips stretched into what she thinks is a seductive smile. "The Shuuin often take on partners outside of committed relationships. It is not unheard of for us to have multiple partners."

Satoru quirks a brow, finding the whole conversation beyond ridiculous.

"I believe our mistress won't mind if we take certain liberties," the woman purrs, tracing the lapel of Satoru's blazer.

Satoru glances at her hand, his gaze cool and disinterested behind his glasses. "What makes you say that?"

The other woman, whose name he also forgot, answers with a sigh, "It is no secret our mistress is not one for exploring the pleasures of the flesh. You will be very lonely, Gojo-san."

"We could help you with that," the third one butts in, her voice unnaturally high and whiny.

"All at the same time, if you want to," the sultry one says with a low chuckle.

Before Satoru can say anything, he hears someone clear their throat behind him. The three women gasp and offer a courteous bow, effectively silenced. Satoru turns around and sees Mathias and Liv standing firmly at a distance. He looks displeased and she looks livid even though she's smiling.

"My, my," she says, voice dripping with venom. "Our cousins from Florida sure are frisky today, brother."

Mathias sighs. "They clearly couldn't resist, sister."

The sultry one replies evenly, "You left your husband alone and unprotected."

Satoru frowns. Unprotected? he thinks to himself. From what?

"That sounds like a threat," Liv says, coming dangerously close to the sultry woman, "Valerie."

Valerie's frown deepens as she looks down on her mistress. "I wouldn't dare, sweet cousin."

Satoru stares at the exchange, curious about what the hell's going on.

"Party's over," Liv says sweetly, adding, "Thanks for coming."

Valerie cocks her head to the side and glances at oblivious Satoru. "Men like him can't be leashed, cousin. Remember that."

With that, Valerie takes a step back and bows one more time. She pushes out her large breasts as she straightens her back, flashing one final lustful look at Satoru before beckoning her sisters to follow her. The three women leave the backyard of the Manor and Liv groans once they're gone out of her sight.

"Liv," Satoru says, his eyes squinted. "Why are your cousins trying to get me to sleep with them?"

The annoyed look on her face speaks volumes. "Ignore them. Bunch of common whores."

"That's a bit harsh," Satoru says though he doesn't necessarily disagree.

"No, that's putting it mildly," Mathias agrees with his sister before adding, "I'll go and talk to the Shuuin elders. You two coming?"

Liv nods and waves him off. "We'll join you soon. I need to cool off first."

Mathias offers a polite bow before excusing himself. She then feels Satoru sling his arm around her shoulders, leaning on her with nearly his entire body weight.

"You're heavy," she comments briskly. "I'm in heels, you know."

"Who are those chicks?" he asks, fixing his shades and ignoring her last sentence.

Liv groans, crossing her arms. "Cormac sisters."

"Not on good terms?" he asks.

"They're insufferable, but we try to get along," she answers. "I prefer our relatives from Louisiana."

Satoru quirks a brow. "Are they here?"

Liv shakes her head. "They couldn't make it."

"Oh well," he shrugs, "So, what should we do on our wedding night? I was thinking of either a movie marathon or filming ourselves playing dodgeball with stinky cheese."

Liv chuckles. "I had something different planned for tonight."

"Do tell," he asks playfully.

The amusement that graced her pale features disappears, replaced with a serious expression. "I have a promise to keep, don't I?"

Satoru frowns, his face serious as well. "No more secrets?"

Liv nods, her words soft as she says, "No more secrets."

Chapter 8: Where Whispers Wail

June 7th, 2005. / 14:03 / Edogawa, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru frowns. "Say what?"

The boy next to him sighs, rubbing his forehead with his thumb. "Pay attention to people around you, Satoru." 

"Whatever," the Gojo clan heir grumbles before making a disgusted face as a curse tries to get past his Infinity. "Fuck, you're an ugly one."

"I asked, why isn't Liv a student like us?" Suguru repeats, his tone irritated. "Shoko doesn't fight either but she attends the school."

"I don't know, man," Satoru sighs dramatically, adding, "The Shuuin are weird - best not to waste our brain power over it."

Suguru hums as he thinks of the girl he had met only months earlier. Headstrong, aloof, and flamboyant Liv Drakon is unlike any girl Suguru had met before (sorcerer or otherwise). She stands out no matter where she is, given her pale complexion and obvious Nordic features. What further impressed and confused him was her disregard for Satoru's abilities as a sorcerer. Not in a sense she doesn't have faith in him or doesn't acknowledge his overflowing talent. Rather, she doesn't care that he's Satoru Gojo, bearer of Six Eyes and the Limitless technique. Suguru isn't sure where this disregard stems from but he figures it has to do with their shared history.

"She doesn't strike me as weak, though," Suguru comments after Satoru exorcises the remaining curse. "Maybe restrained but not weak."

Satoru laughs mirthfully, "I know! I mean look at her - the bitch is insane!"

Suguru hums again. That's true, he thinks to himself, staring at the said bitch as she appeared out of nowhere, standing close to them and cheering them on. Windows reported sightings of a high-level curse and several low-level curses in Edogawa. Satoru and Suguru were supposed to be alone on this mission, as sorcerers without sufficient combat skills tend to hang back in such situations, leaving the gritty work to those better equipped for battle.

Not Liv though.

"Woo-hoo! Yeah, whack 'em, Blue!" she yells from the top of her lungs, waving her unfurled tessen fan high up in the air. "You too, Suguru! You got this!"

It is amazing how much spirit she has for someone who should be terrified. Not only is she part of the cruel world of theirs but she's also unbothered by the fact she can't even protect herself. It's like she's actively looking for trouble, Suguru has thought of several occasions.

"I wonder," Suguru muses with a chuckle, "what kind of sorcerer would she be if she could fight?"

Satoru scoffs. "Even crazier."

Both boys chuckle as they rejoin their odd not-classmate.

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 19:44 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The reception proceeded with little to no scandals.

After his strange encounter with Liv's relatives from Florida, Satoru admits he enjoyed the rest of the wedding day. He could eat all the sweets and small cakes the Shuuin prepared for the occasion, and he indulged in the fruit punch as it was alcohol-free. He noted one particular pastry, a plump, beignet-type dough filled with mixed-flavor cream, that he bullied Liv into making again so he could enjoy it at the penthouse. The eye-roll he got was in his opinion unnecessary but Liv complied regardless, saying she'd make them before he left for his mission the next day.

Apart from stuffing his face with sugar, Satoru also learned a few things about the Shuuin. Their elders hold a place of honor and counsel among the Shuuin; one in particular stood out given his advanced age and straightforward wisdom. Liv introduced him though Satoru is bad with names so he forgot it shortly afterward. He does recall that the man is the eldest among the Shuuinelders. Contrary to popular belief, the Shuuin elders are not completely detached from the ongoings of the jujutsu society as they know the current state of affairs much better than Satoru expected. Their inter-clan politics are surprisingly healthy and supportive.

"The Shuuin respect the past and look forward to the future," she told him when the elders left the Manor. "Our elders are armed with knowledge and experience but do not hinder our journeys. Their job is to give a push or a cushion when needed."

It's not all sunshine and daisies, though. Satoru further observed the Shuuin, noting how they are more aloof and direct than the higher-ups. I guess this is where Liv got her personality from. Apart from the Cormac sisters, none of the other Shuuin tried to vy for his attention or bask in his presence, nor did they outright look down on him as if he were a child. Not to say they do not respect him or his abilities but he finds their approach refreshing if suspicious. There is a charm in the lightness of their presence and obvious disregard for the jujutsu society in its entirety. He thought they were cowards like the higher-ups. Imagine his surprise to find anything but.

His mind circles back to the revelation several nights prior. By now, he knows the marriage is just a means to an end. But to what end? Unfortunately for him, Satoru doesn't have all the information to make a solid assumption. His knowledge of the Shuuin is limited to what Liv told him over the years and her interview with Masamichi (Satoru had Ijichi send him a copy). He was shocked to learn that she was left potentially unguarded all those years before becoming the mistress.

There are many gaps in the Shuuin mistress' history and he's all the more excited for their conversation tonight.

Once the wedding guests and the rest of the Shuuin left the premises of the Manor, the newlyweds remained on the grounds. Liv had already prepared their bags, knowing they would stay overnight. Since Satoru was to leave for a mission the next day, she packed whatever was necessary. She wants to feel comfortable and she needs Satoru to feel the same.

That is how they end up sitting in pajamas on the floor, drinking tea.

Satoru sits on the tatami mat in the living room while his wife prepares tea in the kitchenette. The kettle clicks when the water inside boils and Liv slowly pours the piping hot water into the teapot. She places the teapot onto the bamboo tray before serving it to her husband.

They sit in silence for a while, her warming against the cup and Satoru taking sips from his cup. Even though he bubbles with questions, he savors the silence after a social day. He glances at her and finds her breathing steadily with her face relaxed and her lips stretched into the smallest of smiles.

"Go on," she sighs, the smile still on her lips. "Ask away."

He glances at his teacup, twirling it. "Where to start?"

"I'd suggest at the beginning," she says softly, then adding, "though, I advise against it."

"Long story?" he quips.

"Too long," she agrees. "So long that I don't even know the whole story."

"Then tell me what I need to know," he suggests. "We can dish out family history at some other point."

She smiles before offering to pour him another cup. It is strange how domestic all of this seems but he doesn't necessarily oppose it. It's good to lay back and relax. He hands her his cup and watches as she tilts the teapot. Her colorful robe is long and dainty, slipping off her bare shoulders as she hands him his cup back. The image reminds him of a particular memory at his inauguration party at the Gojo Estate. He closes his eyes and tries to suppress the memory for now.

"The Shuuin are a clan of secrets," Liv says softly. "We have suffered needless deaths because we are wrongly perceived as a threat."

Satoru listens to her talk. The sound of her voice is soothing to his ear. He wonders if she still sings.

"We've changed our way of life through the ages, adapting to the tide and its shifts," she continues. "For a while, we lived comfortably and by the time we officially detached from the jujutsu society, we were branded as weirdos and left at peace, undisturbed for centuries."

"Can't say the same now," Satoru comments, and Liv nods.

"Our current predicament started about forty years ago," Liv says as she sips her tea. "My grandfather noticed a pattern in the occurrence of curses and sorcerers. He noticed the curses were steadily stronger than the sorcerers, outnumbering them in strength and numbers. He voiced his concerns to the Council at the time."

"Dismissed his concerns in a blink of an eye?" Satoru inquires, and she nods in response. "They never change, old bastards."

"They thought he was trying to cause a commotion and do 'something' while they're occupied elsewhere," Liv says evenly, shaking her head. "All things considered, I guess he ended up being the biggest fool."

"Let me guess. It ended badly for him?" Satoru asks softly.

Liv nods. "He tried to approach the matter by circumventing the direct contact with the Council. He put his trust in a friend and offered to reveal all of the Shuuin's secrets if his friend argued on his behalf."

"Did he succeed?"

"He only made the matter worse," Liv answers grimly. "The Shuuin elders tried to cover it up by brainwashing my grandfather's friend."

"They could do that?" Satoru asks doubtfully.

"They managed to alter his memory, not suppress it," Liv explains evenly. "The friend went to the Council and informed them that the Shuuin clan was hiding something big. The Council, naturally, ordered the eradication of the Shuuin."

"But you survived," Satoru points out.

"With great casualties," Liv counters. "My grandfather was assassinated and the clan elders issued immediate damage control to avoid any more deaths. They appeased the Council and provided 'proof' of our innocence. The matter was laid to rest and my mother became the mistress of the Shuuin. She was sixteen."

Just sixteen years old, the words echo in his ear. He briefly recalls his own inauguration, which coincided with his eighteenth birthday. He was at least prepared, having trained from his diaper days but from Liv's story, it seems her mother was hardly aware of her position and what it'd mean for her in the future.

"She did a good job keeping you afloat at such a young age," he murmurs, recalling the steadfast woman who breathed authority wherever she went.

Sumiye Shuuin was the previous mistress of the Shuuin and Liv's late mother. Satoru doesn't remember her much save for a few faint memories from childhood and the few instances they met during his high school days. He sees little of her in Liv, which is a compliment. While his mother enjoyed a certain friendship with Sumiye, Satoru always felt on edge in her presence. Her calm and collected personality oozed off a certain chill and didn't appeal to him. She resembled the higher-ups too much in that regard.

"That's thanks to her tactical genius," Lif admits as she offers him another cup. "She strengthened the Shuuin by creating a spy network. They protect us in numerous ways, to alarm us when danger's ahead or defend us from aggressors."

"That was clever," Satoru says with a hint of humor. "It bypasses the whole Vow of Pacifism thing."

"Actually," Liv winces before chuckling sheepishly, "the Vow of Pacifism isn't real."

Satoru quirks a brow. "It ain't?"

Liv shakes her head. "One of our ancestors believed that avoiding combat would make us less of a target for jujutsu sorcerers so they came up with the Vow of Pacifism."

"So technically, you can fight?" Satoru asks carefully.

Liv nods.

"Do you know how to fight?" he asks next.

Liv nods again.

He squints his eyes before scoffing. "I knew it."

"In any case, our days of hiding are nearing their end," Liv continues, her eyes narrowing as she pours tea into his cup. "The world is changing and it's time for us to adapt."

"The Vow of Silence is stopping you, however," Satoru quipped. "Or rather, whatever or whoever you made the vow with."

She hands him his cup back. "We call her the Great Mother. We want her to revoke the Vow."

Revocation of a vow is rare, but not unheard of. Normally, the contract made is considered absolute, however, there is always an option for both parties to retract their terms, annulling the vow in essence. 

Emphasis is on both parties. 

"Great Mother?" he asks, rubbing his chin. "Is she one of the Shuuin elders or something?"

"In a manner of speaking," Liv admits. "She's the progenitor of our bloodline."

Satoru glares at her. "The Shuuin have a millennia of history. She'd have to be at least - "

"One thousand years old?" she adds. "She's not immortal but she can't die either. We don't know how she does it but for someone as resourceful as her, I'm sure near-immortality isn't an unthinkable feat."

"How do you know that for sure?" he asks with a hint of worry. "She might be a cursed apparition or a vengeful spirit."

"I may not be the strongest sorcerer alive, but I can tell the difference between a curse and a human just fine," Liv answers evenly, borderline offended. "You'll see her for yourself soon enough."

He breathes out in frustration. "Fine. So what's the deal with this Great Mother of yours? Why do you want her to take back the Vow?"

"The secret of the Shuuin is the existence of the Great Mother," Liv presses her lips into a thin line. "The Vow is the reason we're living this lifestyle. The secrets, the lies, the game of pretend - all to ensure that she is safe and away from the gaze of jujutsu society."

"What for?" he asks.

Liv shrugs. "I have my assumptions but she never told us the reason. I tried to reason with her ten years ago. I failed rather miserably."

"If reason doesn't work, we can force her to submit." Satoru handles such situations with a few well-placed threats which he is more than ready to act upon if push comes to shove.

He's surprised when she suddenly chuckles and shakes her head in dismissal. "No! I tried that already and it did shit to change her mind. Besides, like I said, she can't die so undoing the Vow that way is impossible."

"You fought her?" he asks curiously.

"That's how one becomes the leader of the Shuuin," Liv smirks. "We fight her and if she deems us worthy, we take the mantle."

"And if not?" Satoru asks though he can deduce the answer to that question.

She smiles sadly. "We die."

Satoru's eyes widen. Talk about a high-risk gamble, he thinks to himself.

"I can't solve this with fists, Satoru," she explains softly. "Whatever her reasons, I need her to doubt her conviction, long enough to persuade her to take back her terms."

"Why would she do it for me, then?" Satoru counters. "Realistically speaking, I represent the same society she's hiding from. My loyalty to them is questionable, but my word should mean even less to her."

Liv blinks before her eyes wander to the window nearby, her gaze fixated on the lonesome plum tree. "If I didn't have the utmost confidence that you could pull this off, this marriage wouldn't have happened in the first place."

He doesn't react at first, the honesty of her words stunts him for a moment. Liv never minced words around him; she's a fairly honest person. However, she rarely voiced her trust in him or his abilities. His lips stretch into a wide grin and his eyes twinkle. For a moment, she sees the same blue-eyed teenage boy she had placed her faith in all those years ago.

"Aww, you trust me," he teases and gets a forehead flick.

"Stop that," she says with a smirk. "So, you in or out?"

A moment passes as he contemplates his options and she holds her breath. This is it, she thinks to herself, trying to calm her nerves. 

While she's immersed in her nervousness, Satoru suddenly takes her hand into his and presses his lips against her knuckles.

"You know, you were right," he mumbles. "It was fun finding it out."

He peeks at her from underneath her palm, those cerulean eyes still shining with excitement and she chuckles in relief. Damn you.

"See," she says and squeezes his hand in return. "I told you so."

 

 

///

 

October 15th, 2016. / 20:33 / Tokyo Tower, Tokyo, Japan

 

Mathias sighs as he watches the moon slowly reach the zenith.

It is a mesmerizing sight, at least to the older Drakon. He finds the celestial body unusually comforting, especially when he's having trouble sleeping. Tonight is one such night. He half-expects to hear from his sister that the Gojo clan head will level the Shuuin Manor and her along with it. Maybe she suspects the same, he wonders briefly, the dread passing through him like a premonition before one vomits. It would explain why she had everyone leave her and Gojo alone at the Manor.

His eyes closed and his head heavy, Mathias rests his forehead against his prompted knee. He knows he hasn't been alone at the top of the Tokyo Tower for a while now. He doesn't bother calling out the intruder, mainly because he does not need to.

He knows who it is, anyway.

"I know this wasn't the deal," Miguel says as he approaches the man. "I just need to know she's okay before I head back."

The older Drakon hums. "Luckily for you, Liv doesn't much care if you hang around or ditch right away."

Miguel grumbles as he leans against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's not calling yet."

It is an observation and Mathias groans. "No, she's not."

"Should we check on her?"

Mathias gives him a cold stare over his shoulder and Miguel laughs.

"What will she tell him?" Miguel asks after a while. "How much?"

"Whatever and however much she wants," Mathias answers evenly. "As long as he sides with us, she won't pull punches."

Miguel grumbles something intangible under his breath. Mathias doesn't reprimand him; he's not sure if he can anymore at this point. They both know how dangerous the situation is, and how easily it can get out of hand - they both understand that. The difference is that Mathias can't escape until all ]this is over, whereas Miguel can always walk away.

Before he can say anything else, Mathias' phone buzzes.

"That her?" Miguel asks as the older Drakon sibling pulls out his phone.

The bright light illuminates his face in the dark and his brows furrow. So it is her, Miguel surmises and waits patiently for Mathias to read the message. A short moment later, Miguel sees him typing before locking his phone and sighing in relief.

"All's good," he says calmly. "Gojo is in."

Miguel keeps his voice calm and says, "Yeah, all's good. Now what?"

The older Drakon sibling is silent for a moment, his thoughts racing. "This is the part where things get potentially bloody."

The spy tenses up at the man's words, his eyes widening in alarm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If this succeeds," Mathias continues, "you know what she'll have to do afterward, right?"

For a moment, Miguel is lost in thought until the answer suddenly creeps on him like a swarm of ants climbing up his spine and he pushes down the swelling bile in his throat.

"Where whispers wail," the spy mumbles, the dreadful words still strike fear into his heart.

Mathias almost laughs. "Despicable, wouldn't you say?"

"I thought that is no longer practiced," Miguel points out.

Mathias shrugs.

"Damn," Miguel curses. "That bastard is in for a real cold shower."

Mathias laughs this time. "Maybe, though knowing him, I think he'll be fascinated."

"What makes you say that?"

"Gojo has a keen eye for talent," the Shuuin-born explains. "He also sets high standards for everyone around him, regardless of their actual skill. Liv might exceed his expectations."

Miguel frowns in confusion. "She's our mistress for a reason. She already exceeds everyone's expectations."

Mathias hums. "She's not a true mistress but she might become one with his help."

Miguel nods in agreement. "It's ironic don't you think? How he'll potentially create the bane of his existence."

"I disagree," Mathias shakes his head. "My feelings toward the man aside, he is the only person who can make her truly happy."

"Not the only person," the spy counters.

"He had his shot in New Orleans," Mathias retorts. "He also blew it. My bet is on Gojo now."

"He tried, Mat," Miguel says softly. "He did."

I know, Mathias wants to say but he doesn't truly believe that.

"You sound confident, though," Miguel points out bitterly. "I don't think you've ever been this confident."

Mathias nods because the spy is correct in his statement. "When faced with reality, one must be wise enough to accept it."

"Is it reality," Miguel muses, "or wishful thinking?"

"Why can't it be both?" Mathias asks in return.

Miguel says nothing as he gazes at the moon as well.

"At the end of the day," Mathias finally says, standing up and turning toward the spy, "all that matters is she. The rest of us will be fine regardless of what happens."

"That's stupidly brazen of you," Miguel challenges him. "Other people matter, too. Other sorcerers matter."

"Yet, they play dead when things get too tough, expecting the strong ones to have mercy on them," Mathias says sternly, "and the same thing happened to the Shuuin."

Miguel remains silent, effectively drawn into an imaginary corner. He feels called out and not without cause. He knows this and it pains him to admit it, but Mathias has a point.

"We bark at the moon, proclaim that life is unfair, that it's out of our hands," Mathias says a bit softer this time, "and that's why you and I are having this conversation in the first place. In truth, we're toothless cowards. She dared to claw and crawl to get where she is now."

With that said, Mathias leaves the spy alone atop the Tokyo Tower with barely a nod as he disappears in the shadows of the night.

 

///

 

October 16th, 2016. / 06:11 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The next morning, Liv wakes up before Satoru.

They stayed up late, mostly so Liv could answer any other questions her husband might have. Most of it was mainly about the reason behind their marriage. The discussion about the wedding took place roughly two months earlier and his only requirement was for her to consult him before making any choices which Liv didn't mind acquiescing. On the other hand, his lack of involvement made him overlook many tidbits of the ceremony so he was curious about the symbolism and importance of the ritual they performed.

"Only a Shuuin can greet the Great Mother," she said when he asked her about the binding vow. "Not even my spies are allowed to see her, even though they know our secrets."

His curiosity was almost insatiable and she indulged his questions to the latter. He found himself more interested in the Shuuin and their lifestyle. Apart from the wedding ritual, Satoru was curious about her abilities. While she didn't indulge as much as she did with the wedding questions (mostly because she was too tired to answer in detail), she did confess to having another ability besides seidr and galdr.

"It's called Inner Eye," she confessed, yawning. "I can read minds."

She promised to show him the full extent of her abilities once he returned from his mission.

After a short while, Liv had urged him to fall asleep. He waved her off, saying he didn't need sleep but when she pushed the matter further, he acquised. She pointed toward a spare bedroom for him to sleep in peacefully but he insisted on staying in the living room with her. She tried to reason with him, telling him to get some sleep in earnest but she was met with a cocky grin and even cockier remark.

"I don't want to be late for the mission but I'm lousy with alarms," he said jokingly. "Since we're not sleeping in the same bed, we'll at least sleep in the same room. This way you can wake me up if I oversleep."

She retorted by saying she's not his wife and he responded by showing her his wedding ring, silently telling her that she's, in fact, his wife. He walked to the nearby leather couch and lay down before he closed his eyes with a smile. Liv huffed before sitting on the sofa next to the couch. She didn't bother cleaning up the dishes - I'll do it in the morning. Instead, she reached for one of the books from the neat pile on the coffee table. She read for another half an hour or so before slumber overwhelmed her as well. The spouses spent the night together, with him resting on the plush couch and her curled up on a sofa.

As the dawn approaches and her eyes flutter open, Liv rubs her eyes as she looks around. She sees her husband lying on the couch with his back turned toward her. She hears him snoring softly, his shoulders moving up and down in a steady rhythm. He's grown, she thinks to herself, noting how large his back has gotten. Tove's words echo in the back of her head, something about them being or not being honest with each other. She smiles softly and leaves for the kitchen shortly after.

By the time Satoru wakes, Liv has prepared them coffee and packed him a stack of pastries he took a particular liking to yesterday. Humming, the man stretches out his limbs as he yawns. He notes that his eyes are surprisingly not sore and when he opens them, he sees it's morning outside. He feels the couch dent as Liv sits beside him with a pair of mugs in her hands. He can smell the freshly brewed coffee.

"Good morning," she says and offers him a mug. "I added sugar already, three cubes."

A corner of his mouth twitches upwards as he accepts the offered mug. He notes the morning is indeed good.

The Shuuin Manor is strangely inviting and homey this morning. The morning sun peaks through the curtains, casting a beautiful golden hue over the wooden floors and furniture. The backyard of the Manor glistens under the sunlight, the colors of the trees and grass vibrant as they sway gently under the breeze. A certain scent of dew permeates the house, making the scenery even more tranquil.

It is strange, in a way. Liv avoided the place like a plague as a child. With so much blood and tragedy seeping into its very soil, it's hard to feel at ease in such a place. The discomfort with the Manor persisted into her adulthood as well. If someone had told me I'd have a sleepover at the Manor, she thinks to herself as she's looking at her husband drinking his coffee. I'd probably spit in their face and laugh. She almost chuckles at the irony of the situation - her freedom just within her grasp at the place that symbolizes the chains that bound her and still bind her.

Her eyes are fixed on the man that could offer her freedom. She shouldn't rely on a single man for her happiness. You've been down that road before. However, she is certain this time around, she'll be rid of her golden chains - once and for all.

"What's the plan after I return?" Satoru suddenly asks, finishing his mug of coffee.

Liv puts her mug down and turns to him. "It's pretty simple. We meet the Great Mother and she revokes the Vow."

"You make it sound so easy," he laughs as he glances at her sideways. "Come on, tell me the truth. We said no more secrets."

She bites her lower lip, somewhat hesitant with her response. The Great Mother of the Shuuin is a fickle creature. Aside from the fact that she's been kicking around for over a millennium, she's a woman from a different time. At the peak of jujutsu sorcery, the Heian Era bore some of the most powerful sorcerers in history. It was a time of fear, bloodshed, and constant fighting between sorcerers and curses. That world is the birthplace of the Great Mother, the curse of the Shuuin, and their heaviest chain.

"You are the first outsider to meet her," Liv says uncertainly. "Anything from a screaming contest to an outpour of aggression is a possible reaction."

"I can handle it," he smirks. "I mean, no one likes a stark-raging woman but I'll manage. I'm the strongest, after all."

"I don't doubt it," Liv agrees, quirking her head. "Still, we'll have to do this my way so just do what I say."

He pouts. "This is like the higher-ups meeting all over again."

She sighs. "I know and I'm sorry but we must be careful around her."

"I thought you needed my help with this," he tries not to pout. "Seems like you're just ordering me around."

He frowns and Liv notices how his stubbornness is acting up. Satoru dislikes being told what to do. Charms of being spoiled rotten, she notes with a hint of disdain. She knows she's testing his patience by being adamant about the situation. Luckily, he doesn't need any further convincing. He sighs then nods in agreement but says little else.

"Thank you," she says quietly, clapping her hands before bowing to him in gratitude.

Satoru waves her off as he leans forward to reach for her empty mug. Realizing what he's trying to do, she swats his hand away. He stares at her, completely taken by surprise. She stares back, her brows furrowed as she grabs her empty mug and takes the one in his hand.

"You get ready for work," she says calmly, standing up. "I'll handle the dishes."

His lips slowly stretch into a smirk. "You settled into this lifestyle of a dutiful wife quickly."

She keeps her cool, saying, "You're a guest in this house, Satoru. I'm being polite."

The shit-eating grin on his face makes her wish to throw both mugs at his head but she merely rolls her eyes as she leaves for the kitchen.

Around 09:00, Liv and Satoru leave the Manor with their bags in tow. With Satoru heading straight for his mission in Fukushima, he is dressed in his uniform while Liv is wearing a casual tan outfit and black ankle boots. The mission was assigned to him two days before the wedding. He threw a minor fit, saying they were robbing him of a wedding night (Liv rolled her eyes at the comment). Expectedly, Satoru didn't want to do it and Liv also didn't want to see him leave right after the wedding. She was hoping to have him meet the Great Mother immediately after the wedding day. However, there are reports of strange disturbances in Fukushima that could be caused by a curse user rather than a random curse. The predicament of the situation is eerie and Liv reasoned with her husband that perhaps it's better to settle the matter now.

"Curses don't leave the places they're born at," she said, "but curse users could disappear now. Time is of the essence."

As such, Satoru didn't fight with the higher-ups and begrudgingly went along with their orders.

"We could've gone for a picnic or something since the weather is so nice," Satoru says somewhat apologetically and though she can't see his eyes, she knows he means it sincerely.

She shakes her head, responding jokingly, "Nonsense, I understand. Besides, I'm not a needy wife. I can survive without you for a week or two."

"I was trying to be considerate and you ruined it again," he lifts his blindfold so she can see him roll his eyes dramatically. "Heartless woman."

Liv chuckles. "Big baby."

Satoru teases her, "I'll text and call you daily for that insult."

"Please don't," she pleads half-teasingly and he chuckles.

The main road appears as Liv has her car parked in the parking space next to the sidewalk. Behind her vehicle is Ijichi who seemingly arrived early. He's waiting patiently next to the sleek black Toyota, his spectacles high on his nose, and his face and posture are neutral. She shakes her head, smiling at the man in a suit.

"Is it just me," she asks teasingly, "or does Ijichi look much older than he is?"

Satoru hums in response. "He's excellent at what he does but sometimes he just can't take the pressure."

"He needs time off," she corrects her husband.

Satoru agrees. "We are understaffed though and there's a lot of work so no time off just yet."

Liv knows he's not referring to Ijichi but doesn't comment. Instead, she secretly gives him a pitiful look. As they reach the bottom of the staircase, Ijichi approaches them. The man, whom Liv knows as a kind and professional but anxious person, offers a gentle smile and a bow as a greeting.

"Liv-san," Ijichi says. "I hope you're well."

"Hello there, Ijichi," she says before returning the gesture. "It's been a while, not counting the reception."

Ijichi chuckles sheepishly. "Forgive me. We haven't had the chance to talk at the time."

"Don't worry about it, it's fine," she waves it off but her tone is too serious to be understood as a joke.

The manager bows again, this time apologetically. "Apologies, I should've greeted you properly at the reception."

Oh for the love of - "It's fine, it's fine. Just stop - that, whatever."

She glances at Satoru and Ijichi stops apologizing as Satoru gives him his luggage to drop in the back of the car.

"It shouldn't take me longer than a week to finish this mission," Satoru says. "I'll bring back some souvenirs."

She scoffs, crossing her arms. "If it ends up being another keychain, then don't bother. You sent me at least twelve over the years."

He smirks and he comes closer, leaning in. For a moment, she thinks he'll kiss her on the cheek. Ijichi seems to have the same idea so he turns his head around, giving them privacy. Instead of his lips touching her skin, she feels his hot breath next to her ear.

"Don't do anything stupid," he whispers. "They're still watching us."

She smirks. "Aww, you do have a heart."

"I'm serious, Liv," his voice is low as he mutters into her ear. "Please."

Liv is silent for a moment before she nods subtly. "Since you said 'please'."

He hums and takes her right hand, pressing a long kiss on the knuckle where her rings are. I forgot how soft his lips are. She tries not to laugh at the gesture; they're putting on a show after all and they must look the part. With that said, she musters a soft smile for her husband though the slight tint on her cheeks is genuine.

"I'm off, darling," he says with his usual grin.

She nods. "See you later, dearest."

Satoru turns to Ijichi and the man immediately opens the back door for the sorcerer. Before he gets inside the car, Satoru lingers for a few seconds. It is a silent reminder to her to heed his warnings and when she nods in reassurance, he nods back and sits on the back seat. She watches as Ijichi closes the door and walks around the car toward the driver's seat. He offers a curt bow once more which she returns. A short moment later, the car's lights flash and she moves to the side as they drive by. She waves at them and catches Satoru lifting his blindfold just enough for his blue eye to peek through. Whether it is to alleviate his worries or to assuage hers, she's uncertain but decides not to think much of it.

Instead, she throws her bag into the back of her car and the engine roars as she heads toward the penthouse.

Chapter 9: Heartless Woman

October 16th, 2016. / 08:15 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv slumps on the couch.

She finds the penthouse view over Roppongi somewhat bland. She was impressed when she initially moved in two weeks ago. The glamour, the luxury, and the design of the place are certainly attractive and in taste. However, there's barely any decoration or memorabilia, which strikes her as odd as Satoru enjoys shopping for nicknacks and idiocies. This ain't a home, she concludes. Maybe a man cave if you shut one eye and imagine mess everywhere you look.

A sigh escapes her lips as she slides further down the seat, her neck and back bending at an uncomfortable angle. I'm bored, she thinks as she stares at the panorama ahead. With the wedding over, she has no obligations whatsoever, at least, until her husband returns. Liv figures she might as well enjoy the penthouse. After all, Satoru will be gone for a week, she chuckles. Shopping spree without Satoru's whining? Bring it on. Painting all day atop the building's roof? Why not? Filling the bathroom with bubbles while music is turned up to max? Hell yes.

So, she does just that. On the day of Satoru's departure, she fills the bathroom with bubbles and turns up her favorite jazz playlist to the max. Feeling extra classy, she makes herself an arrangement of cheeses and grapes, accompanied by a bottle of white wine.

"Now this is a high life," she giggles as she sips her wine and bites a grape off its stem.

Liv starts humming to the tune of the ongoing number, letting her voice boom inside the bathroom. As she sings, she lifts her legs and flexes her feet. A smile adorns her lips as she runs her left hand across the shin, knee, and thigh, admiring the softness of her skin. Her hand then trails up her collarbone and the side of her neck.

"God is a woman," she mutters, lowering her shoulders into the foamy water.

The water turns cold so Liv pulls the plug to let it run while she dries herself up. Wrapping the towel around her frame and hair, she decides to do some skincare. Looking in the mirror, she notices her face is tired and puffy. Sighing, Liv rummages through Satoru's vanity cabinet, searching for anything she might use. Unfortunately, the cabinets are empty and Liv makes a mental note to go and buy some products. 

The next day, Liv makes a quick trip to an art store. She buys a small easel and some acrylic paints. She also stops at a cosmetics store to buy a cleanser, serum, and cream. Once she's back from shopping, she dresses in her painting attire: a torn shirt and equally torn jeans. Her initial idea was to go barefoot to the rooftop but she changed her mind when the wind picked up shortly after she set up her workstation. Instead, she carries her easel and painting material back inside the penthouse. Shame, she thinks as the view is rather different than what she usually looks at from the living room in the penthouse. It is more vast and more grand than she ever envisioned Roppongi to be.

Pouring herself bourbon that Satoru previously bought for her, she goes through her phone before finding a playlist she likes. Sitting on the floor, she sets her workplace before randomly mixing the colors. After fifteen minutes, she finds an array of pale blues, lilacs, and brown greys. She chuckles to herself. The palette reminds her of the Gojo Estate, particularly in winter. With the palette ready and a clear idea, she sketches on the canvas before painting.

As a Shuuin, Liv has a natural talent for the arts. While she was taught to forge weapons at a young age, she enjoyed painting and music more. Hours pass quickly as she paints in peace, her mind empty save for a few random, stupid thoughts here and there. Should I wash my hair? Did I clean the bathroom? I'm hungry. My leg is cramping. Even as the sun sets, Liv keeps on painting well after midnight. She falls asleep on the floor while silently promising to finish the painting some other time. 

On the third day of Satoru's absence, Liv feels stuffed in the penthouse. The deafening silence is overwhelming and she desires some company. For all his flaws, Satoru is at least amusing to watch if not converse with. His crackhead personality and questionable behavior make for an interesting pastime when one is bored. 

Liv takes her phone and starts scrolling through her contacts list. Alas, it is a short list, several dozen numbers overall. Most of them are Shuuin, the rest are acquaintances and longtime friends. As she scrolls alphabetically, she reaches the 'K' section. There are a few names there; one catches her eye. 

"Kento Nanami," she mutters, opening his contact info. "Now, there's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

She wonders if he's still working as a sorcerer. Hell, is he even in Japan? The last thing she heard about the man was that he started a career in corporate business but this was years ago. Perhaps, Liv thinks to herself as she stares at his contact number, I should ask him myself. 

She hesitates, though. Is this still the same number? Realistically speaking, it is possible but he could've changed it too. I won't know unless I dial the number, she concludes. After another few minutes of pondering, she decides to check through a roundabout way.

Sitting in the kitchen, she scrolls through her contacts again, looking for Shoko's number. Once she reads her name on the list, she opens a chat page before quickly typing a text message, asking her to send her Nanami's phone number. She has to know, Liv notes. On the other hand, even if Shoko doesn't have his number, Liv can always ask Satoru. Knowing him, he must've kept tabs on Nanami. As if on cue, while she waits for the medic to reply, she sees Satoru's name suddenly pop up on the screen, followed by several messages. Speak of the devil.

From: Satoru Gojo

liv

liv

answer

liv

livlivlivlivlivliv

She doesn't manage to reply as he calls her almost immediately. She purposely takes a while to answer, bobbing her head to the ringtone. When she finally answers the call, she hears him whine from the other side.

"You're ignoring me," he says, the dramatic tone in his voice apparent. "Other wives pick up on the first ring."

"You have other wives?" she deadpans, inspecting her nails.

"Jealous, dearest?" he teases and she scoffs. "That's not nice."

"How's Fukushima?" she asks, changing the subject.

She hears a groan from the other side. "It's boring. Seriously, I should've flipped them off for this mission."

Liv sniggers. "That bad?"

"I don't know why I'm here, honestly," he whines. "The dude is not even trying."

"Are you fighting him?" she asks before she hears a loud crash from the other side. "I'll take that as a 'yes'."

"I was standing in front of his hideout for at least twenty minutes," he continues rambling. "The dude just stared at me."

Liv hums. "People stare at you all the time. Thought you're used to it by now."

"He's borderline ancient, Liv, it's creepy," he deadpans and she hears him say something along the lines of 'how old are you' to the curse user afterward.

"Maybe he's into younger men?" Liv asks innocently, stifling a giggle. "Take it as a compliment."

Satoru doesn't find it funny. "Your jokes are lame."

"You called me," she laughs. "What did you expect?"

"Better jokes," he also laughs.

Liv rolls her eyes, thinking the same about him. She then hears him say something else to the curse user, mentioning words such as 'honeymoon' and 'suntan'. She figures he's whining again about having to spend his time working right after getting married.

"Satoru," she sighs but there's a hint of laughter in her tone. "Stop bothering the old man. He's already getting beaten up."

She hears him scoff. "I don't concern myself with lesser men's worries."

He can hear her facepalming before groaning his name.

"Whatever," he says. "Anyway, I called to check if everything is okay."

Liv clears her throat. "I'm still alive if that counts."

Satoru hums. "It's good enough for me."

Liv smiles. "Good. Now, focus on the mission."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," he rambles dismissively. "See ya' soon?"

"Later, Satoru," she says.

He returns in kind and she hangs up, putting the phone on the kitchen counter. She stares at her phone, wanting to pick it up again and call him. She never felt the urge to call him before. Why now? she wonders as she leans on the kitchen counter, her eyes still on the device.

She reaches for it in the end but she doesn't call him. Instead, she sees Shoko's name on the screen and a phone number underneath her name.

 

///

 

October 19th, 2016. / 11:32 / Fukushima Prefecture, Japan

 

Satoru stuffs his phone back into his pocket before sighing in relief.

"Thank goodness," he mutters as his gaze travels to the heavens.

He looks back at his adversary (he's being generous by calling the man his adversary). The old man is a capable sorcerer, average if Satoru's brief evaluation is of any importance. He's been throwing some curses around, though Satoru quickly deduced that the motive is the old man's insanity. Driven by the depravity of his life circumstances as a homeless person, he eventually began cursing people to vent his frustrations. His particular technique allowed him to create clones of himself as shikigami and then attack people in the area indiscriminately. He drew attention, though, and now he's dead, his miserable life over in some dark alley where he used to 'live'.

Truthfully, the Six Eyes wielder cares little about the curse user and more about the reasoning behind this mission. The higher-ups could've sent someone else, even a Grade Two sorcerer would have sufficed. Either they wanted Liv alone in Tokyo, he thinks. Or we're really understaffed. Nevertheless, he's glad the work's over and he can go home earlier.

However, before he can leave, he sees something peculiar in the curse user's hand. He clutches it firmly in his fist, holding it like a lifeline. Ironic, considering your current state, Satoru notes bitterly. He kneels and forces the man's fist open before taking the item. At first glance, it's just a piece of bloodied paper. As Satoru unfolds the parchment, he sees a strange red and intricate symbol. It seems like a runic scripture of some kind but it's unlike anything Satoru has seen before. It's not a talisman, he notes. Could it be some form of seal? It looks foreign. The longer he looks at it, the stranger it appears to him.

"Must be important, though," he mutters to the dead man.

Satoru takes another close look at the runes, holding his chin between his fingers. He frowns as he tries to think of anything that might be familiar but he fails. I'll have to check this with an expert, he thinks to himself as he stands up and turns on his heel, leaving the corpse in a forgotten alley that was its home.

 

///

 

October 19th, 2016. / 13:28 / Tokyo, Japan

 

It is early afternoon and Nanami has just returned from a mission in Okinawa.

The assignment took longer than he expected. Few days, they said. He groans. Not only has he been away for two weeks, but the mission turned out to be a Grade Two curse and a Grade Two curse user. Nothing he can't handle but still, it's more work than he anticipated, especially considering that he had another mission just before that, involving a Grade One curse user on a murderous rampage.

He desperately needs sleep.

His bed is tempting him. He wants to throw himself into the soft mattress like a ragdoll and sleep through the rest of the day but he suddenly hears his phone beep. Sighing, he reaches for the device inside his blazer and unlocks it before glancing at the notification. A message from an unknown number? He opens the message and his eyes widen as he reads it.

From: Unknown

Are you in Tokyo, Kenny?

He stares at the message quizzically. No one calls him Kenny these days. Is it Gojo? he wonders before shaking his head. Gojo called me yesterday, he knows where I am. He types a simple question in response - who is this? A few seconds later, his phone rings, and it's an unknown number again. Hesitantly, he swipes upward and presses the phone against his ear.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Kenny."

He doesn't recognize the voice at first. It is melodic and smooth, familiar but not completely. Kenny. They say it with sweetness, indicating they're at least on a first-name basis. It's someone I know, he concurs but still struggles to remember. He experiences a flashback of a much happier time when he was young and not all that smart. He remembers someone vaguely. Someone he hadn't seen in a very long time. Long braids, platinum blond hair, hazel eyes, a bright toothy smile.

Kenny.

His eyes widen. Don't tell me -

"Liv?"

"It's been a while," she says softly.

No shit, he almost says. "Liv Drakon?!"

"You'll wear out the name, Kenny," she laughs from the other side. "Sorry for calling like this, I just - "

"Where are you?"

A short moment of silence follows. "I'm at Satoru's now. Why?"

He shakes his head. So it's true, he thinks to himself. She's married to Gojo. When Nanami first heard about their marriage from Masamichi, he almost laughed. He found it - and still finds it - ludicrous and obscene. Who in their right mind would marry a flippant, egotistical man such as Gojo? Not to mention, the Shuuin clan is suddenly the talk of the jujutsu world. After centuries away from the rules and regulations imposed by the higher-ups, they're suddenly joining hands.

Nanami is certain there's a catch. Liv has always been against the jujutsu society's laws and regulations. She has never, not once, agreed with their methods of management. They almost sealed her away, he thinks to himself remorsefully, recalling the time right after Suguru defected. Nanami shakes his head. No, there has to be a concrete reason for this charade.

He takes a deep breath. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"To talk over the phone?" she asks with a hint of jest.

His voice is barely calm as he says, "The marriage, the involvement with the higher-ups - makes no sense. Why would you do this?"

Liv chuckles. "Well, I've been known to do crazier things than this. Remember Osaka?"

He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, remembering Osaka very well. "You've painted a target on your back, Liv."

"I've always had a target on my back, old friend," she says softly, adding, "but we should continue this conversation in person, don't you think?"

Nanami presses his lips into a thin line. Don't meddle, he reminds himself sternly. Don't interfere.

Alas, he could never say 'no' to her.

He sighs in defeat, saying, "I know a place where we can talk. We'll meet there."

"Sounds good to me," she hums.

 

///

 

October 19th, 2016. / 14:13 / Tokyo, Japan

 

The cafe Nanami chose as their meeting spot is a quaint little place in Shinjuku. Liv figures he frequents it often as it suits him and his preferences. It is classy but artistic, decorated with oil paintings and playing smooth blues and jazz on vinyl records. There is a small podium with a pianino which she thinks is reserved for live performances. It seems very secluded, hidden from the crowded roads.

As she enters the cafe, Liv realizes she's come early as she can't see Nanami anywhere. She looks around the place for a nice table and picks the one next to the window. It is a bit secluded, tucked behind a half wall near the bar. With steady steps, she walks over to the plush chairs and makes herself comfortable on one of them. She's approached by a waiter shortly and orders a cup of black coffee.

The bells jingle as Nanami closes the door behind him. Liv doesn't notice him until he's standing next to her. He clears his throat to attract her attention. She finally looks over her shoulder and sees a man who strongly resembles the boy she used to know.

His features are still as sharp, given his Scandinavian heritage. People used to think they were cousins if not siblings when they were younger. The passage of years reflects on his face as he now sports slightly hollowed cheeks and creases around his brows. His hair is combed back and his eyes are visibly tired. She figures he was on a mission before this.

"Right on time," he says, looking briefly at his watch.

She smiles at him before beckoning him to take a seat. "Relax Kenny, I have all the time in the world now."

"Is that so?" he asks as he sits down. "I thought Gojo would take up all your time considering it's your honeymoon."

Liv chuckles, looking at him with a soft gaze. "He's a considerate husband, despite the evidence to the contrary."

"He better be," Nanami mutters as he crosses his legs. "So, how did you go from a bohemian to being Satoru Gojo's wife?"

She shakes her head, a knowing smile gracing her lips. She mimics his posture and crosses her legs, while her fingers lace over her knee. Her coffee arrives and Nanami orders an Irish coffee from the waiter.

"Why do people get married in the first place?" she asks coyly.

Nanami is quiet as he refuses to meet her gaze. He stares out the window, not entertaining her game of words.

She looks at her hands and responds, "Because I wanted to."

"That's it?" his tone is accusative.

"What other reason do I need?" she asks in return.

He finally looks at her, his green eyes piercing into her soul. "The Liv I know would never compromise her freedom and integrity for shallow respect of the jujutsu society."

"Is that what you think of me?" she chuckles. "That I'm a social climber?"

"Those are the rumors I heard. They also say you're kissing ass to the higher-ups so the Shuuin are not targeted as much," he adds evenly. "Another one is that you're pregnant and that Gojo's impotent."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "Wow."

"Wow indeed," he says.

"Truth is a lot simpler, though," she says as she sips her coffee. "I wanted to marry him and he wanted to marry me."

"But why?" Nanami presses further. "And don't tell me it's love, I'm not an idiot."

"Most marriages aren't based on love, Kenny," she retorts.

"You're hiding something," Nanami continues. "It will get you into trouble."

"It could get me out of trouble, too," she points out.

Nanami stares pointedly into her hazel eyes, worry creeping into his bones. So there is a reason behind this shitshow they're throwing. He then looks at her right hand, seeing the rings on her finger. One is a golden engagement ring with a large sapphire as the center stone while the other is a thick golden wedding band. Normally, Japanese wear wedding rings on their left hand but Scandinavian folks wear them on the right hand.

"You didn't invite any of us," he murmurs. "To the wedding, I mean."

She nods. "We wanted to celebrate with our friends in peace, far away from the judgy stares of the higher-ups."

"Sure," he scoffs. "What's the real reason?"

Liv is hesitant to respond, mainly because she wants to keep things simple until they deal with the Great Mother. Lying doesn't come as easily to the Shuuin mistress as her comrades believe. Telling Nanami too much would be too easy. It is why she struggles to answer.

"Seriously, it was so boring," she sighs, not-lies rolling off her tongue awkwardly. "There was some dancing, food too which was good. Zero alcohol, though."

Despite himself, Nanami chuckles. "The absence of alcohol is a large detriment to any celebration."

"See?" she laughs. "You get it."

His gaze trails back to her hazel eyes. For now, he thinks to himself as the waiter brings his order.

"But enough about that," Liv quickly changes the subject. "How have you been?"

"Knowing you, you're already in on all the gossip surrounding my life," Nanami counters, sipping coffee. "There's not much I can add."

Liv is secretly flattered. "True, I have my ways. Still, I'd like to hear it from you."

Nanami hums. "Want the long or short version?"

She smirks. "Like I said - I have all the time in the world now."

 

///

 

October 19th, 2016. / 18:11 / Tokyo, Japan

 

The two friends spend a few hours in the cafe before deciding to go home. Ever the gentleman, Nanami offers to accompany her back to the penthouse but she declines his offer, proposing to drive him back to his apartment instead.

"You drive?" he asks incredulously. "Tokyo is a big place."

"I'm still able to drive on my own so I won't spend money on something I don't need," she says in response. "Besides, I enjoy driving."

He hums. "Makes sense, I guess."

They walk over to the underground garage where she has parked her vehicle. Nanami isn't sure what he expected but a red oldtimer Mercedes isn't what he imagined she'd drive. He imagined her in an SUV or even a pickup. Then again, he doesn't know the first thing about the subject.

"Nice car," he says rather dumbly.

She smiles a toothy grin. "Thanks."

Sitting down, they leave the garage and get on the highway. She asks him for directions which he kindly obliges. The ride to his apartment is short, barely twenty minutes long as he lives close to the cafe they were at. She slows down as they near his apartment before halting to a stop in front of the entrance to the building.

"This one?" she asks, her eyes gazing at the top of the building.

He nods in response. "That's the one. Thanks for dropping me home."

"Anytime," she says before gently tapping his left shoulder with her palm. "Thanks for seeing me. I appreciate it."

She flashes him the same smile she did when he saw her the last time. He responds with a small smile of his own.

"You're my friend, Liv," he admits softly. "Against my better judgment but still."

"Aww," she coos but she's touched by the man's rare display of affection. "I knew you're a softie under all that doom and gloom."

He rolls his eyes. "Now I see why Gojo and you get along so well."

She gasps dramatically. "Rude."

He merely chuckles in response. "Bye Liv."

"Bye," she sings while he leaves the car.

She waits for him to enter the building before driving off. However, he halts before he can reach the door. Liv frowns, ready to get out of the car to check on him when he suddenly turns around and calls her name. She cocks her head to the side, curious. He offers a rare smile.

"Take care," Nanami says softly, adding, "Please."

For a moment, she's startled and unsure of what he means to say. The pleading look on his face reflects his worrisome thoughts. Don't leave without a goodbye again. A toothy smile graces her features as she nods in response.

 

///

 

October 19th, 2016. / 18:33 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru returns to the penthouse in the early evening.

The ride back was extended for a few hours out of 'necessity' (he was shopping for souvenirs and Ijichi had no choice but to tag along). He enters the living room, carrying various sweets and snacks in his arms. Looking around, he notices it's quiet and no lights are on. He calls out Liv's name several times but hears no response. Satoru then checks her room (politely knocking before entering, of course) but she's not there either. The bathroom's door is wide open so he figures she's not showering or taking a bath.

"I guess she's not here," he deduces as he lies on the couch.

Where is she, though? he wonders as he checks his phone for any messages. There are none and he pouts, somewhat disappointed. Heartless woman, he scoffs inwardly before throwing the phone to the cushion. He sighs as he takes off his blindfold. Should I call her? he wonders before clicking his tongue. Nah, she's a grown-ass woman, she can do as she pleases.

He checks the time on his phone - 18:47. It's not late, he figures. Maybe she's out with Shoko again. That thought doesn't make him feel good. He reaches for his phone again and scrolls lazily through his social media instead. She's fine, he reminds himself again as he opens the Instagram app. He's not active much but he enjoys watching funny videos. There's one with a cat smelling a cucumber and gagging. It makes him giggle every time. Soon enough, his worrisome thoughts move to the back of his mind and he's fully immersed in watching dumb clips.

Half an hour passes, then another half an hour. Around 20:00, Liv returns home. However, Satoru barely acknowledges her presence. Curious about what he's doing, she walks toward the living room where he's sprawled on the couch. Looking over his shoulder, she sees what's keeping his interest and she makes a face.

"You find that entertaining?"

Satoru doesn't look at her as he answers, "Not quite. I was bored."

Liv quirks a brow, jumping over the back of the couch and joining him on the cushion. "You need to find a hobby, dude."

"Dude?" he laughs. "Should I call you 'bro', then?"

She rolls her eyes before changing the subject, "Thought you'd be gone for a week."

He sighs for the umpteenth time today. "I wrapped up early. I'm rather tired, though."

Liv frowns. "You said that the guy was weak."

"He was," Satoru agrees, "but in the end, the higher-ups were right about him being more troublesome than we thought."

"How come?"

Satoru reaches for his jacket's pocket and reveals a folded parchment. He unfolds it carefully before showing it to his wife. Curious, she takes the piece of seemingly bloodied paper and looks it over carefully.

"He had that on him," Satoru continues, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know what it is so I have to figure that out before I write the report."

He notices her being extremely quiet and as he glances at her, he sees her brows furrow and her lips pout.

"Something wrong?" he asks after a while of silence.

She is hesitant at first but then points at the runic symbol on the paper. "This looks like galdr."

Satoru frowns as he scratches his temple. "That witchy thing you do with your tessen fans?"

"It's not a 'witchy thing', Satoru," Liv glares at him before she points at the symbol again. "I guess whoever made this was trying to replicate an enhancement charm but it's ridiculously crude. I'm struggling to read the inscription."

Satoru is quiet for a moment. "So, they failed basically?"

"At making a proper galdr charm, absolutely," Liv says, asking, "He was holding this, you say?"

"Yup," Satoru says, showing his fist. "He had a mean grip on it."

Liv taps her chin in thought. It's made on paper, not on a jewelry piece, she wonders. Whoever did this barely understands the practice. Judging from the overall execution, she concludes that this charm was a test run.

"Did the curse user seem off to you?" Liv asks. "Maybe delirious."

"He lived in a carton box and ate rats and snails," Satoru deadpans. "I guess he had a few screws loose. Does that mean something?"

She nods, showing him two fingers. "There are two options: you either killed the curse user who dabbled in something he didn't understand and went mad, or there's a sorcerer out there who's learning galdr and used a random curse user as a test subject."

His brows furrow. "Human test subjects aren't that rare in jujutsu sorcery, despite the stigma."

A strange emotion flashes across her eyes. It is something between understanding and sympathy, and guilt.

"Regardless of their motivations," she continues, handing him the bloody parchment, "it might be a good idea to run a background check on the dead curse user before making any conclusions."

Satoru groans as he stuffs the paper back into his pocket before throwing his head back. "Great, more work for me."

She pats his thigh in mocking comfort. "There, there."

He rolls his head to glare at her and she giggles in response. Her giggles soon turn into chuckles and then genuine laughter. Satoru's drowsiness and previous irritancy subdue and his chuckles erupt as she infects him with joy.

"By the way," he asks suddenly, "where were you?"

"I had coffee with Kenny," she answers. "Thought I should catch up now that I'm back."

Satoru gasps, pointing his finger at her. "You go out with other men while your husband is away?! Shameful! I need to have a serious conversation with that homewrecker. I knew he couldn't be trusted, with that ridiculous hair, and that voice, and fancy suit and - "

She inwardly groans. I married an idiot.

Chapter 10: The Great Mother

November 3rd, 2016. / 18:23 / Tokyo, Japan

 

It is a rainy day in Tokyo despite the late sunshine grazing the horizon.

With the colder days slowly rolling in, people notice on their phones that the date spells the month of November. The promise of snow, cold, and the upcoming holiday season cheers up many - but not all.

A middle-school boy, barely in his mid-teens, sits alone in the classroom. He packs his bag and prepares to leave class, more than glad for another day to be over. Before he can dress in his uniform jacket, a group of bullies enter the room with a robust teen as their leader. The boy's breath hitches and he lowers his gaze, hoping the bullies would somehow ignore his presence.

Alas, they came solely for him, knowing the timid kid waits for everyone else to leave before him. It is unknown why since his shy personality and isolating tendencies result in him being alone most of the time with no friends or even acquaintances. Yet, he is bullied anyway because of his weak disposition and doormat mentality.

"Yuta Okkotsu."

The boy's skin crawls and his knees buckle as he grips his bag and jacket, holding them tightly against his chest. He says nothing as he tries to walk past the bullies. One of the rowdy boys, stands in his way, blocking the door of the classroom.

"Don't be like that," the ringleader teases menacingly. "We're friends, right?"

No, the boy almost says but merely clutches his belongings even tighter.

"It's been a while," the buffy boy says, coming closer.

Yuta takes a step back, shaking his head vigorously. "Don't come over here - "

"But I really want to punch you," the ringleader laughs. "Do you know how long I waited for this?"

"Stop," Yuta begs.

"Think of my feelings, Okkotsu," the same boy says, anticipation making him sweat. "We're graduating and I want to slug you one last time."

"Please," the bullied boy cowers, tears almost spilling out of his eyes. "Please, just stop - "

"You know what?" the bully cackles, loosening his tie. "I'll just kill you and be done with it."

No, no, no, Yuta pleads inwardly, walking as far back as possible. His back hits the window and he's caged by the ringleader and the other three boys. They laugh at him, at his misery. No, please, don't come out, he begs again but his prayers fall on deaf ears as he feels the ominous presence make itself known.

No -

"RIKA!"

The bullies are confused for a moment and halter their ministrations. Before they can even register what's happening a shadow emerges underneath Yuta's feet. A pair of enormous pale hands appear behind the bullies' leader. His eyes widen as something large and callous grasps his face.

Yuta can only sit and watch as the apparition tears the boys one after another, their mouths covered before they can even scream. The hands claw, rip and plunge into their flesh, rendering their skin into tattered pieces. They're half-dead as it shoves them into a nearby locker, all four of them squished into the tiny space before closing the door shot. Yuta sinks onto the floor and hugs his knees, begging them for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeats consistently, his eyes wide and red in terror.

The white hand pats his head affectionately before disappearing into the shadows. He hardly notices it. The contorted bodies of four students remain in the nearby locker as blood oozes from the storage, pooling on the linoleum floor of the quiet classroom.

 

///

 

November 5th, 2016. / 16:08 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Liv sits in the main hall of the Manor, her back turned to its entrance.

It has been almost three weeks since she and Satoru tied the knot. Despite numerous obstacles keeping them from proceeding with their plan (Satoru's overwhelming amount of work being the main issue), they figured out a date when Satoru wouldn't have so many things on his to-do list so that they could take their time with the Great Mother.

Liv arrived at the Manor early, wanting to offer respects before the ordeal. Today is the day, she thinks to herself while her eyes are fixed on the offerings resting atop the humble shrine. A smile crosses her features as her heart swells with hope, pride, and excitement. Today, we will be free.

"I will be free," she mutters, placing a hand above where her heart is. "Mere words won't seal my fate any longer."

With a final salute, she bids her ancestors farewell as she retreats inside the Manor. Once inside, she finds Rune and Tove sitting on the tatami mats in the living room, playing cards as a pastime.

"Who's winning?" Liv asks jokingly, putting her hands on her hips as she stands near the two women.

Rune points to Tove, a childish pout on her lips. "She's cheating."

"She asked who's winning, not who's cheating," Tove says evenly as she throws a card down before looking up at her mistress. "Answer's still me, though."

Liv chuckles.

"Are they here yet?" Rune asks, resting her chin on the ball of her free palm after she places a card on the pile in front of her. "We've been waiting for hours already."

"They're at the foot of the hill. It shouldn't be long before they join us," Liv answers, adding more sternly, "Haven't I told you to practice your sensory skills, Rune?"

The redhead is startled as she answers meekly, "Yes, but - "

"No 'buts'," the Shuuin mistress cuts in curtly. "You're a Shuuin spy, take some initiative. I won't have you squander your chances at improving your skills."

"I told you she'd chew you out," Tove comments evenly before throwing another card.

"Whatever," Rune retorts as she looks through her cards.

Liv sighs. "Anyway, have you prepared everything for the meeting?"

Both spies nod, with Tove adding, "The talismans are already in place. We'll stand watch at the entrance as well."

"Good," the Shuuin mistress nods. "I'm counting on you both."

"Hey, if I work extra hard today, can we get crepes from Takeisha Street?" Rune asks only to be flicked into the forehead by Tove. "Ow, what was that for?"

Liv laughs while Tove scowls at her subordinate. "It's 'Takeshita' Street and you'll do twenty laps around the Manor tomorrow."

"Why?!" Rune whines.

"For wagging your tongue," Tove retorts.

"It was just a question," Rune argues.

"Thirty," Tove says pointedly.

"Thirty?!"

"I'd shut up if I were you," Liv nudges the redhead with her foot. "You'll get fifty at this pace."

Rune wants to argue further but the stern look on the spymaster's face tells her otherwise. Swallowing her dissatisfaction, Rune complies and effectively remains silent from then onward. A short while later, they hear the front door of the Manor open.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Liv sighs before shouting, "We're in the living room!"

Emerging from the hallway are Satoru and Mathias, dressed in all-black attires. Her husband is in his uniform while her brother is in a suit.

"You're late," Liv says, folding her arms.

"Apologies, I got held up," Mathias says apologetically. "The Council called for an urgent meeting."

"What for?" Liv asks.

"There's been a curse attack at a school in Tokyo," Satoru replies casually, "or so I've heard. No biggie, don't worry."

"No biggie but they had an urgent meeting because of it?" Liv arches her brow.

"You know how it is," Mathias sighs exasperatedly. "They get their panties in a twist whenever something happens too close to home."

Liv rolls her eyes. "Heavens, they're so paranoid."

On that, they all agree.

"Anyway," Liv says, "introductions are in order. Satoru, you already know Tove Dahl, my spymaster. This is Rune Hagen, another spy in the ranks. They will accompany us."

Slightly flustered, Rune offers a deep bow. "A pleasure to formally meet you."

Satoru nods. "Well, we're here. Now what?"

Liv says nothing in response. Instead, she beckons him to follow her while the rest walk behind the couple. Walking outside to the backyard, Liv leads them off the Manor's premises and into the woods. They head toward the forge and further uphill, deeper into the woods. As they make the hike, Satoru takes note of the eeriness of the forest around them. The Manor itself is quiet but the woods are ominous, its vibrant green hues turn dark emerald under the shade of the branches. The further up they go, the colder it gets and a scant fog covers the forest floor.

After a while, Satoru finally asks, "Are we there yet?"

Mathias rolls his eyes and Liv merely chuckles.

"What's funny?" he asks quizzically, his question directed at Tove and Rune.

The two spies exchange knowing looks before Tove answers, "We're there already."

"Where?"

They stop suddenly as they reach a small clearing in the forest.

Satoru takes a quick look around. "Here?"

Liv nods. "Here."

He quirks a brow. "There's nothing here."

"Not yet," she says as she turns to the brunette. "Tove, if you'd be so kind?"

The spymaster nods and lifts two fingers as she starts chanting softly. "Blessed are they who tread the unknown path, for their effort is rewarded."

Rune then joins the chant, clasping her hands together. "Leap into the sound's deep, drown in its song."

Liv puts a hand on Satoru's shoulder and softly pushes him to step back. He meets her hazel eyes and complies, letting her guide him backward.

"Fortune, favor my plea," Tove recites, spreading her arms. "Darkness, hide my sins."

"Let the true blood see," Rune says softly, spreading her arms as well, "where whispers wail."

Satoru stares in disbelief as a large hole opens in plain view, revealing a large cave ahead. At first, he doesn't understand what is happening until his Six Eyes picks up on the complexity of the barrier in front of him that's been forced open. He almost doubts what he sees.

"Liv," he mutters. "What is this?"

Liv smirks. "You tell me. You're the one with special eyeballs."

A near masterpiece, that is what he sees. The intricate design of the barrier is unlike anything he has ever seen: a complex mesh of cursed energy that is refined and dense. He also picks up on the cursed energy residuals of the hanging talismans that dot the surrounding landscape.

"It's the outer shell," he says as he inspects the technique's unique design. "Like that magician's trick with a rabbit in the box, the outer layer of the barrier acts like a mirror, giving an illusion of invisibility."

Liv nods. "Good job, Satoru."

Oddly, her praise makes him slightly flustered which he hides behind the high collar of his jacket. "Why the incantation and talismans then? Barriers are easily breached from the outside."

"This barrier has many inner and outer conditions," Mathias explains plainly, "one of which allows any Shuuin to pass but only Shuuin-born can enter without the opening ritual."

"And the talismans protect the integrity of the barrier so it doesn't break while also masking the entrance so we don't expose the Great Mother," Liv says as she turns to her brother, her expression neutral. "We're going in alone. Stay here with them two and watch out for trouble."

Mathias offers a curt bow in response. "Understood."

"Come on," she says grimly to Satoru. "The Great Mother awaits."

He lets her get inside the barrier first and after a brief contemplation, he follows. They find themselves in a narrow passage, whose ceiling is lower than Satoru's height so he has to bend slightly to pass through. Liv can walk comfortably with a straight back though hers are much more tense since they entered the cave.

"You okay?" he asks, treading carefully down the slippery path.

She hums in response. "I guess."

"It'll be fine," he says dubiously, "I think."

She chuckles. "Tactful as always."

He smiles but says nothing else as she leads him further inside the cave. The air grows stale the deeper they go and Satoru can smell rotten flesh. She did say some have died fighting the Great Mother, he remembers and figures the stench is coming from leftover corpses of her fallen comrades and relatives. After a while, the passage widens and he can stand, groaning in relief.

"Well, that was uncomfortable," he comments, massaging his neck.

"You've seen nothing yet."

Before he can ask what she's referring to, the passage ends and they enter a vast cavern. Running alongside its walls is a stream of translucent, red liquid that pours into a small pool at the base of the cavern. Even from a distance, Satoru sees and senses a presence at the bottom of the cavern. Human, he deduces. Sorcerer.

"That her?" he asks, nodding toward the lonesome figure.

Liv nods stiffly.

"She doesn't seem that strong," he notes as he analyses her cursed energy flow.

Liv scoffs. "I thought you fixed that condescending attitude."

"It's not condescending," he retorts. "I'm just stating the facts."

"Are you sure it's a fact what you're talking about?" she asks enigmatically.

He frowns as they then descend a curving stone staircase. The walk down is short but challenging as humidity renders the stone slippery. Liv turns and offers him a hand but he shakes his head in refusal. Once at the bottom of the stairs, she halts before turning to him again.

"Stay calm," she says slowly. "No matter what happens, do not engage her. Understood?"

He frowns. "What do you mean by - "

"Do you understand?" she repeats sternly.

He is startled for a moment, her tone unusually serious and commanding. "Alright, fine, I understand."

She nods curtly and turns on her heel before taking a deep breath. With heavy steps, she heads toward the altar where the woman is sitting. Liv lifts her hand in front of his chest, stopping him before he can get too close to the matron. From this distance, he realizes his expectations have been far from the truth. This ain't some old lady, he thinks as he looks at the Great Mother. She's barely in her thirties.

"I greet you, Great Mother," Liv says, loud enough for her voice to echo in the vast chamber.

The woman doesn't move an inch, though. Her silky black hair cascades down her back, glistening crimson under the red hues of the nearby stream. She's leaning on one arm while the other rests leisurely in her lap. She wears a linen yukata and a purple kimono draped over her shoulders. No corpses though, he notes as he looks around the cavern. Where's the stench coming from? Except for the wooden platform, there's barely anything else in the cavern.

"I know you're awake," Liv says evenly. "Answer me."

The matron sighs and her eyes open, revealing ruby-red orbs.

"Come to bother me again," the woman says evenly.

A sardonic smile appears on Liv's face as she retorts, "As usual. This time, I brought an accomplice. See?"

The Great Mother's gaze falls on Satoru and he feels judged already. She eyes him from head to toe - lingering at his groin - before turning her attention back to Liv.

"Yes, I see," the woman muses, squinting her eyes. "Except for his eyes. Empty sockets? I guess it's to be expected, you always fancied the broken and crippled."

Satoru dislikes her choice of words, finding it exceptionally disturbing. Liv, on the other hand, doesn't seem fazed in the slightest.

Rather, her lips are stretched even further as she says. "Nah, he's in one piece."

The woman hums. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Liv offers a curt bow. "I wished to introduce my husband to you formally."

Satoru waits patiently for the woman's reaction. She doesn't say anything nor does she show any frustration or disapproval. Liv said she has a temper. Right now, all he sees is a calm and collected individual. If she has a vile side, it is very well hidden.

"Formally?" the woman mutters. "Since when do you care about filial responsibility?"

Satoru notes the utter disgust in the woman's tone.

"You're curious why he's here," Liv's tone remains cool. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

The woman breathes out through her nose before standing up. Her eyes are solely on Satoru, particularly his shrouded eyes.

"Take that blindfold off, stranger," the woman deadpans. "It's disrespectful."

Satoru turns his head toward his wife and as she nods subtly, his finger hooks under the lower edge of the blindfold and he pulls it down. Cerulean orbs glisten in the dark cave, their ethereal glow resonating with the power of old. It is at this moment that Satoru recalls Liv's warning from before. The Great Mother's eyes widen twice in size, glowing with malice as she growls at her progeny.

"What have you done?!"

Liv remains stoic in her spot, not at all threatened by the woman's sudden outburst of frustration. "Is something wrong?"

A pale hand wraps around her neck and though Satoru can see the grip tighten around Liv's neck too much, the quick flick of Liv's wrist reminds him of their previous agreement. Do not engage her. He takes a step back, balling his fists and biting his lower lip as he watches his wife hang slightly off the ground.

"You brought a Six Eyes," the Great Mother says, her eyes narrowed and her upper lip curled. 

"His name is Satoru Gojo and - "

"I don't give a fuck about his name," the woman growls. "I should kill you both."

"Before you do that," Liv says, her voice clear despite the pressure on her throat, "I want you to see him."

The dark-haired woman snaps her gaze toward the man, her eyes blazing with fury. Satoru tenses up, expecting an attack but it never comes.

"Your arrogance knows no bounds, pup," the Great Mother says darkly as she reverts her attention to Liv and Satoru can barely keep himself from interfering. "You've doomed us all and for what?"

"See him and you will understand," is Liv's final response.

Several moments pass before the Shuuin matron lets her go. Instinctively, Liv reaches for her throat, nursing the sore and bruised skin. Satoru sighs in relief. He sees her breathe comfortably despite being in a chokehold for so long. He is about to approach her but the other woman blocks his path, her eyes challenging him.

"Do you know about our ability, boy?" the woman asks before tapping her left temple, referring to the Inner Eye.

Satoru ignores her calling him a 'boy' and answers calmly, "Yes."

"Good," she says, and in a few short steps, she stands in front of him with her hand against his forehead. "This may hurt a little."

He doesn't get to ask what she means by that as she pushes his forehead and head back. A surge of strange cursed energy courses through his being as their surroundings change near-instantly. He looks at his surroundings and notes the familiarity of the space around them: a picturesque representation of the universe with all its colors and glitter where they float amid the vast emptiness. His Six Eyes widen as he looks at the Great Mother. This is the inner world of Limitless, he realizes. My innate domain!

"What is this?" he asks slowly. "I thought the Inner Eye only allows you to read thoughts."

"I am not just any Shuuin, boy," The Great Mother says as she smirks. "Inside your mind, there are no secrets. Thoughts can be random and prone to change. A heart can't change as easily."

"So this is an application of Inner Eye?" he muses and the woman nods in confirmation.

"You wanna know if I'll snitch or something?" he asks though it sounds more like a statement.

"Among other things," she responds coyly.

He then feels a strange pressure inside his skull. Thoughts erupt and flood his mind. The images flash before his eyes and he can't do anything to stop them. One of the other, they play out in front of him and all he can do at this point is watch.

He can't make sense of the visions as there is no coherent pattern. He sees his childhood memories and then some that are more recent. He thinks she's searching for something specific, though he can't think.

The visions end as quickly as they came and they return to the cave, no longer inside his mind. He feels a pair of hands hugging his torso. It takes him a while to realize that Liv is holding him up, a worried expression on her face.

He chuckles. How odd, he thinks. Usually, he's helping others; not the other way around. Liv seems frantic as she keeps a tight hold on his jacket. Satoru tries to pry her hands off him but her grip remains firm. A short while later, she finally lets him go. Taking a deep breath, she turns her attention back to the Great Mother who has her back facing toward them. She is quiet and stoic - contrary to her previous spout of aggression. Neurotic hag, he thinks to himself.

"That's rude, Satoru," Liv reminds him that his thoughts aren't private now.

"He's right," the Great Mother suddenly says, no traces of offendedness in her tone. "Anyone would turn neurotic after being away from the civilization for so long."

The spouses say nothing in response. She then turns to them, her face unreadable. The corners of her blood-red lips are turned slightly upward.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Satoru Gojo," the Great Mother says as she sits on the floor. "You may leave now."

Satoru quirks a brow at his wife. Liv nods and urges him to leave the cavern.

"I'm not leaving you alone," he whispers, grabbing her forearm.

"It's alright," Liv whispers, taking his hand off her bicep. "Just go."

He hesitates, his eyes glancing at the red-eyed woman every so often. Liv notices this and places a hand on his cheek.

"Trust me, Satoru."

Every instinct screams at him to ignore her words and blast this Great Mother off with his Red. Why am I even entertaining this idiocy? he thinks to himself.

"Calm down," she says softly, bringing a hand to cup his cheeks. "I'll be okay."

"That's not as convincing as you think, Liv," he says, his upper lips curling.

She chuckles. "Come on, I've survived worse than this."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah, you've totally got a point there - "

"I can't tap out now," she says, a soft smile on her lips. "I have to finish this."

Another moment passes as he weighs his options. His eyes shift back to the Great Mother. I can take her on, no problem, he surmises but his promise to Liv still rings in the back of his mind. Why are you even listening to her? he immediately chastises himself. He looks back at Liv, her hazel eyes looking right back at him. Kind, reassuring hazel eyes. This is her choice, he reminds himself and sighs. You can't save those who don't want to be saved. He closes his eyes. Damn it all.

"Fine," he mutters, reaching for her hands on his cheeks and lacing their fingers. "Fine."

"Go," she whispers and detangles her hands from his.

He hesitates but obliges nonetheless, walking away from her. Liv watches as he ascends the stairs and turns back to look at her before disappearing into the passageway.

"How touching," the Great Mother teases. 

The Shuuin mistress stares at her ancestor, realizing for the first time how the entire concept of their meeting is downright bizarre. "You sound jealous, Great Mother."

"It's merely an observation," the matron says evenly.

"He is different," Liv says sternly, walking closer to the Great Mother.

"He is promising, I'll give you that," she says evenly before adding, "but we don't put our faith in potential alone."

"Yet, you still chose me," Liv counters calmly. "Despite my flaws, you saw potential in me as well."

"You can't have it all, pup," the Great Mother argues. "That which you desire comes at a price you cannot pay."

Liv frowns. "Watch me."

The Great Mother is silent for a moment. 

"Does he know why he was brought here?" the Great Mother asks curiously.

Liv tries not to look her in the eyes. "He knows enough."

"No one likes to be manipulated, child," the Great Mother says evenly. "Your husband might not like knowing he's been used for no other reason but for what he is."

"I needed his help," Liv cuts in curtly. "He agreed to help me. That's all there is to it."

"Do you think I'm stupid, pup?" the Great Mother laughs, her giggles unnerving Liv. "I may not get out much but I can smell a fraud from a distance. It's a peculiar stench, you know."

Fraud? Liv hums. "What are you implying, Great Mother?"

The woman scowls. "You brought him to corner me so I would have no choice but to revoke the Vow."

Silence. Liv doesn't even look at her. Everything the woman said so far is correct. Satoru's sole role has been to corner the Great Mother. It was a gamble. Her rationale often speaks louder than her optimism but she took that leap anyway.

If it means freedom -

"Six Eyes wielder with Limitless Technique, the first one in four centuries," Liv explains, albeit needlessly. "If he reports to the higher-ups that there is a thousand-year-old Shuuin progenitor hidden deep within the forest near Shuuin Manor, no one will question him. His word holds that much influence. We'd all be persecuted within hours."

She then cocks her head to the side, a lopsided grin on her lips as she says, "I always wondered why hide when you can easily evade any sorcerer, though. You're strong, resourceful, and intelligent. Certainly, you're not afraid of anyone."

Red eyes stare piercingly at Liv's hazel orbs but she doesn't relent as she continues, "But then I thought, what if you weren't the strongest? What if, someone came along, so powerful, that not even you can defeat them?"

The Great Mother frowns. Liv Drakon is insightful and cunning, picking up on the smallest clues. It didn't take her long to assume the true reason for the Great Mother's iron-tight grip on the clan.

"Something happened, a long time ago," Liv says. "I don't know what exactly and I doubt you'll tell me now but I'd wager Satoru's not the first Six Eyes wielder you've met. I bet you're hiding out here because you're afraid of fighting another one."

The Great Mother takes a deep breath. "You've got a big mouth, pup."

"Perhaps," Liv muses before adding, "but I don't hear you denying what I just said."

"It doesn't matter what happened, little dragon," the Great Mother says evenly. "The only thing that matters is that you've won the battle but not the war."

Under usual circumstances, these words would've shaken Liv's resolve. As it were, the circumstances have changed. 'Guilt' is not the luxury she can afford at this point.

"High risk, high reward," Liv's hazel eyes meet the crimson orbs. "I never claimed to be a saint and you are a real pain in the ass."

For a moment, the Great Mother feels almost proud of her progeny.

"If I revoke the Vow," the Great Mother says slowly, "you will be cursed."

"So be it."

The woman shakes her head, chuckling. "You are insane, child."

Liv chuckles as well. "Can you blame me, after everything?"

The Great Mother doesn't blame her. Too late to turn back anyway, the Great Mother thinks with a hint of sympathy. The dye has already been cast.

"You don't know what you're asking for," the older woman says solemnly. "This won't make you whole."

"I gave up on that long ago," Liv argues briskly. "I just wish to be free."

The older woman shakes her head. "Those chains of yours are not because of me."

Liv's gaze is cold and piercing as she retorts, "I didn't chain myself if that's what you're implying."

"On the contrary," the other woman counters, "I think your kin chained you. Weaklings tend to limit the strong."

The weak discourage strength, Liv recalls Suguru's words. Oh, the irony.

"They are not weak," Liv says stubbornly but seems doubtful. "Weaker yes but not weak."

"Semantics mean little in the great scheme of things," the Great Mother mutters, "but you already knew that. Otherwise, why marry the only man in the world stronger than you?"

Liv's eyes widen as she takes in her words. Only man, she repeats the words over and again, stronger than me?

"W-What do you mean by that?" she stutters.

The matron's thick brow quirks. She's still not aware of it? the woman wonders before sighing. No matter, she will be soon.

"Your assumption was correct," the Great Mother answers. "He is the right man for you."

Liv frowns as the woman smiles at her coyly. "I never said - "

"You'll figure it out later," she waves Liv off dismissively. "We have more pressing matters to deal with."

"Then," Liv asks slowly, "you will do it? You'll take back the Vow?"

"Don't act so surprised. This was your plan, was it not?" she responds in return. "You counted on me relenting instead of letting everything I've done so far go to waste."

'Happy' doesn't even begin to describe Liv's emotion. Bewildered, ecstatic, high, fulfilled, relieved - so much emotion wells within her being and she doesn't know what to do with it. 

Finally.

"Once I take back the Vow, I cannot remain in this world any longer," the Great Mother says, her words echoing in the chamber. "Someone must take my place."

Liv nods in understanding. "I know and accept it as long as the Vow is gone."

So be it, the Great Mother notes as she summons a katana. "You should've fasted for this."

"I skipped breakfast," Liv smirks before reaching for a particular white tattoo behind her ear. "It should be enough."

 

///

 

November 5th, 2016. / 18:22 / Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

"It's quiet."

Satoru's eyes are glued to the entrance of the cave. It's been hours since he left Liv alone in the cavern and the sun is already setting behind the horizon. He used to hear sounds from inside the cave for a while. Groans and shouts could be heard, followed by loud thumps and clashing of metal against rock. It's been quiet the last couple of hours. He can't discern what's happening. Worse still, his Six Eyes can't pick up much from inside the barrier, even if it's still open.

"How long will she be in there?" he asks.

"It's hard to tell," Mathias says, folding his arms. "Depends on the fight itself, I guess."

"Fight?" Satoru asks in confusion. "What fight?"

Mathias is quiet for a moment. "What did she tell you? About the Shuuin, I mean."

Satoru quirks a brow. "We were short on time so not much, I guess."

"Did she tell you how the Shuuin choose their leaders?" Mathias asks.

Satoru nods. "You fight that black-haired lady. Some survive, some don't. Those who do become the leader of the clan."

"Proxy," Mathias emphasizes. "They become proxy leaders. The Great Mother is the true mistress of the Shuuin."

The Gojo clan leader cocks his head to the side. Mathias can almost see the question marks floating above his head.

"Our ancestors used to choose their leaders via combat," Mathias explains further. "However, the losing party used to be cannibalized by the victor."

Satoru's brows furrow. "They'd eat each other?"

Rune and Tove remain pointedly silent, looking away from the two men.

"The Shuuin value their secret knowledge above all else," the older Drakon sibling says, "and the Shuuin masters are living facsimiles of the collective knowledge of the Shuuin. Cannibalizing is the only way to preserve and pass on that knowledge in its root form."

"But Liv is alive and so is that freak-ass woman," Satoru points out. "Maybe there is a way to bypass the whole eating thing."

"The only reason Liv is alive is because the Great Mother deemed her worthy of the position," Mathias responds in kind. "Others, however - "

He needn't finish the sentence. That's why there were no bodies in the cave, Satoru realizes. Damn, the Shuuin are dark.

Satoru breathes out before asking, "Does Liv even want this?"

Mathias hesitates to answer. "She didn't at first but the chains imposed by the Vow made her desperate to do anything to be rid of it."

Satoru tries to ignore the insanity of the words coming from Mathias' mouth. He still doesn't believe that Liv would do something like this. She doesn't care about power, he knows that much. So why?

"She lied," he mutters. "I knew she wasn't telling the whole truth but I thought she at least - "

Mathias doesn't comment.

"What does she truly want?" Satoru sighs, exasperated. "Why is she hung up on the Vow?"

Mathias looks at the entrance of the cave. "We sold the lie about the Vow of Pacifism to the higher-ups. We attract less attention from the jujutsu society that way. Living nomadic lifestyles and avoiding using our Shuuin names is another way of protecting ourselves and our secrets. Our entire existence is about hiding and restraint, leaving us more or less defenseless."

"But you can fight," the white-haired sorcerer points out.

"Most of our combatants are average in strength," Mathias retorts. "Liv could take on armies of sorcerers singe-handedly."

"Overestimating her there, dude," Satoru scoffs.

Mathias hums. "You'll find out, possibly sooner than later."

"If you say so," Satoru surmises. "So, she wants freedom."

Mathias nods. "Not just freedom. She wants to live as herself without pretending to be something she's not."

"Which is?"

Mathias glances at Satoru. "Weak."

 

///

 

November 5th, 2016. / 18:38 / Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

With a final axe kick, Liv plummets the Great Mother into the ground before bringing her fist into the woman's stomach, crushing her organs. Blood coats her fist while the Great Mother coughs out the dark red liquid and Liv stumbles backward. She's barely standing on her feet but at least she's won.

The Great Mother is defeated, rendered immobile as her legs have been broken, with one almost torn off her hip. Her katana is broken, the left side of her abdomen is crushed, and she thinks her back is broken - she's got no more reason to fight. Her cursed energy is depleted and using Reverse Cursed Technique is impossible. This is it, she thinks to herself with a satisfied smile. It's time for me to sleep.

"Marvelous," the Great Mother whispers as she looks around. "That master of yours - he was a monster, wasn't he?"

The Shuuin mistress closes her eyes. She opens them again before reaching for the white tattoo behind her ear. Her extensive markings burn away, revealing flawless alabaster skin beneath. With an uncertain step, Liv walks to the woman's side.

"He was a man," Liv says softly, adding, "a strong man but still, just a man."

The Great Mother coughs as she tries to chuckle. "'Just a man' taught you to fight like this?"

The statement draws a smile from Liv. "Not really. He sucked at teaching but broken bones and a mouth full of blood were a good motivation."

She hears the woman hum and the Great Mother struggles to take a deep breath. Her punctured lung fails her and she lets out a wheeze. Liv feels no desire to help her. She can't help her anyway. She doubts the woman even wants help from her.

"Your husband," the Great Mother coughs. "The Gojo kid - does he know about your abilities?"

Liv takes a moment to answer. "No."

"Will you tell him?"

Again, she hesitates. "I don't know. Maybe."

"He will fight you," the older woman says somewhat weakly, the blood loss wearing away her life force. "Men like him are drawn to power but are easily frightened when their strength is questioned."

"He is different, Great Mother," Liv says softly.

The older woman laughs. "Oh, pup. All men are the same, only the faces differ."

Liv doesn't like her tone. "You're wrong about him."

Her next words are softer, almost hopeful as the Great Mother says, "I sincerely hope so. Otherwise, you'll be alone in your victory and that's not fun, trust me."

"Even so," Liv mutters, "thank you, Rei Shuuin."

"Rei Shuuin," the older woman says with a chuckle. "And don't thank me yet, pup."

Liv kneels before Rei's lying body, placing her bloodied hand above the woman's heart. "Any last words, then?"

Red eyes glimmer in the dark. She has thought about her last words many times over the centuries. She had imagined a different scenario each time, a different Shuuin. Who would've thought, she muses to herself, her red eyes gazing at the young woman leaning over Rei's now dying body, that it would be you, of all people.

The Great Mother of the Shuuin hopes she won't regret her choice as she welcomes the death's sweet embrace and the promised peace that comes with it.

"You're about to be cursed," she whispers, "so enjoy the calm before the storm."

The spite in her tone doesn't go unnoticed but Liv doesn't mind it. Centuries of existence have made Rei's heart callous and her tongue sharp - it is to be expected.

"Go in peace," she whispers as her hand pierces the woman's chest and rips out her heart.

The organ still spasms in her hand while its owner is taking her last breath. Liv watches patiently as the light dims in Rei's eyes and she falls limp. The longest-living Shuuin is no longer among the living and as she witnesses this momentous day, Liv cannot help but pity her.

"Watch me," the words escape her lips as she grants herself one final chance at gloating. "Watch me have it all."

Liv then chomps down the heart before pulling out the lungs. The taste of flesh is bland but the blood leaves a metallic aftertaste on her tongue and palate. Cartilage and tendons are stringy and hard to chew. Liv doesn't mind it, even as the bile rises from her esophagus and into her mouth. She swallows it all.

It is the taste of freedom, after all.

 

///

 

November 5th, 2016. / 21:36 / Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The night has already fallen.

The moon is high and the stars are shimmering in the night sky. It is slightly chilly but no one is thinking of leaving yet. Satoru in particular doesn't want to go, not until he sees Liv with his own eyes. Mathias told him he was not expected to stay; he had done his part already.

Yet, the Gojo clan head stays.

Suddenly, they all hear tapping sounds coming from the cave. They look at the entrance, tension filling the air as they wait.

Obscured by the darkness, they see red eyes glowing from within the cave. Satoru watches as his wife emerges from the cave, bloody around her mouth, hands, and upper torso. Droplets of red trickle down her abdomen, staining her already ripped shirt. She looks satisfied, licking her fingers. Her eyes glow with a reddish hue.

He then hears shuffling behind him and as he looks over his shoulder, he sees Mathias and the spies bow to their knees and lower their heads. He's not sure if it's out of respect or reverence.

"They don't teach us to grovel at other people's feet," Liv says, her voice thunderous as it echoes in the forest. "Rise."

Without a second of doubt, they stand up but the wonder and awe are still plastered across their faces. Mathias is especially stunned as he watches his sibling stand proud and tall before him like she didn't just perform sacrilege.

"How are you feeling, sister?" Mathias asks wearily.

Liv is silent for a moment, curiously looking at her bloody hands. She flexes her fingers and inspects them closely.

"Mighty," she says finally.

At that moment, Satoru sees something different in her cursed energy flow. It is not the same cursed energy he associated with Liv Drakon all these years. It looks like she's generating a magnetic field, stretching the field, and contracting it. That's new. His eyes peek over her shoulder and he sees no residuals where she previously stepped. Talk about control, he notes curiously. None of it is released into the surroundings.

"Call our cousins, Mathias," she says with a drunken smile, walking past them. "Tell them, the silence is broken."

"And the barrier?" he asks.

Liv looks back at the cave before answering evenly, "Destroy it. There's nothing left in there anyway."

Mathias nods and watches as she walks away, the purple kimono draped over her shoulders trailing after her.

"Where are you going?" Satoru asks before she can take another step away from them.

She stops and looks over her shoulder at her husband. The hazel green eyes stopped glowing red. Instead, they light up with life and joy.

"I'm going for a little walk," she says softly.

Before he can inquire further or even stop her, she disappears from his view, leaving no residuals in her wake.

Chapter 11: Homeless

November 5th, 2016. / 23:12 / Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Hours pass as Liv roams the Tochigi woods aimlessly. The trees blur as she dashes through the shrubbery and logs, her instincts being the only reason she hasn't hit her head yet. 

She stops her manic jog once she reaches a clearing deep into the forest. The moon is full and looming just above the small meadow. With a satisfied smile, she falls on her back freely. The grass feels so fragile under her body that she almost pities the plant. A childish chuckle escapes her throat as she notes her own foolishness. 

Looking up, she notices a bright and voluminous moonhead staring back at her. It appears too big in the night sky, and Liv wonders if it'll swallow her whole. She chuckles again, her giggles echoing among the trees. The stars dance in the dark vail, their eternal dance a mesmerizing sight. Liv wonders if they've always danced so vigorously.

Suddenly, the sky above Tochigi Prefecture turns muted, the clouds hanging thick like a blanket that refuses to lift. Liv gazes at the towering trees, their twisted branches clawing at the air like ancient spirits. The wind howls, carrying with it the scent of earth and moss, but there is a bitter edge to it - a warning.

The woods feel alive, their very presence pressing against Liv’s skin. Out of reflex, she springs onto her feet. The shadows grow longer, stretching into the trees, and in the distance, she thinks she sees a figure, faint, like a mirage.

The figure is tall, draped in robes as though made of snowflakes. As time passes, the shadow takes on a feminine and familiar appearance. The woman is beautiful, though her beauty is otherworldly, both ageless and unsettling. Her eyes glow faintly, a bright, eerie red, and the corners of Liv’s vision blur as if the world itself is distorting.

She is unlike the grim, moody woman Liv has known her entire life.

“I warned you, pup,” the woman’s voice is soft, like a whisper in the wind, but it carries the weight of a thousand years. "You'll be cursed."

The words send a shock through Liv’s body, the echo reverberating deep within her bones. She clenches her fists, trying to steady her pulse.

“Impossible,” Liv whispers in disbelief. 

Rei’s smile is faint, cruel even. The Great Mother hums, her smile widening as she walks around her progeny, ever taunting, ever condescending. Liv's heart quickens as she begins to ponder whether she's imagining things or if the dead have started returning to life. Hearing her thoughts, Rei Shuuin halts her step, facing the current Shuuin mistress. 

"It starts with euphoria," Rei says softly, cocking her head to the side. "You will feel lightweight, completely unburdened by the world around you. Eventually, you will start hearing things and most of it won't make sense."

Liv listens intently, although she doesn't like the direction in which this conversation is heading. The air grows even thicker, the tension is palpable between them. The sudden surge of energy influx overwhelms Liv's senses, so much so that she almost predicts Rei's next words.

"The dye is cast on the Shuuin blood," Rei says solemnly. 

It suddenly gets unimaginably cold. Winter is coming, but the wind is yet to carry the nip with it. Ice courses through Liv's veins as she waits for the Great Mother to elaborate.

"You were right to assume that something happened in the past," she continues, her gaze cast downward. 

Then, she waves her hand, her sleeve flying in succession and a mirage appears between them. Liv watches as the shimmering visions dance midair, seemingly depicting a scene from ages past. For a moment, she can't quite understand the situation. However, as her eyes set on a large figure with four arms and a mouth on its stomach, her mouth slackens as she gasps.

Is that - ?

"Ryomen Sukuna."

Liv’s heart stops. The name of the demon who had haunted the sorcerer world for centuries leaves no man unaffected. Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. The Shuuin mistress has only heard stories of the infamous King of Curses, much like everyone else. Annals speak of a powerful and intelligent sorcerer who roamed the old Hida as a wannabe god, both worshiped and feared. The ruling clans were terrified of his power, and they tried everything and anything to earn his favor and curb his bloodlust. The tale grows larger and more embellished with each retelling but the point is the same -

There has never been a sorcerer more powerful than Ryomen Sukuna - before or since.

Yet, standing opposite him is none other than Rei Shuuin.

"What am I seeing?" Liv asks, her voice stern and commanding.

Rei doesn't answer for a while. Then, she sighs, closing her eyes.

"The day I became the mistress of the Shuuin."

The scene changes quickly from a casual conversation between two figures to a raging fire. The illusory blazes engulf everything around them, concealing whatever may be hiding within them. Then, like a phoenix, Rei's visage emerges, bloodied and beaten. She appears young, much less worn, and dreary than the Great Mother standing in attendance. 

"The Heian era was a wonderful time to be alive," Rei recalls almost willfully. "Music, art, revolution - political tomfoolery gave much leeway for the great sorcerer families to move up in the world and amass wealth. Crime was an all-time high hobby for most of us. As for the Shuuin - "

She waves her hand again and another image appears. There are armies in active combat, bearing their banners with pride. Liv recognizes some of them, notably the Fujiwara's wisteria emblem and Sugawara's peach blossom. Powerful clans, indeed - still prominent in the modern day. They are crowded at the bottom of the hill, their helmets and spears pointed toward the top of the hill where a small group of men and women stand vigil, waving their own banner.

The Shuuin's red spider lily.

"We were targeted for our secrets," Rei continues, running her hand through the images. "Most of our enemies were easily fought off."

"What changed?" Liv asks.

Red orbs glow as they stare at the younger woman. Pain and regret flare with intensity and with her Inner Eye, Liv hears muffled screams and sobs, as if from some nightmare long abandoned. 

"We caught the wrong kind of attention," she admits and Sukuna's smirking face appears next to her, staring at Liv.

"Sukuna coveted the Shuuin secrets for himself," the Great Mother seethes, her lips curling in disgust. "When he realized how we transferred our knowledge, he intended to kill us all and force the master at the time to transfer the knowledge to him."

"He failed, though," Liv notes.

"Yes," Rei nods slowly, lost in thought. "In a manner of speaking."

Silence follows her statement and the image changes. Once more, Rei emerges from the flames, bloodied and wounded, and standing over a dying man in monk's robes. He appears old and battle-hardened but not afraid, even as his life abandoned him slowly but surely. Rei then crouches, her hand on the man's shoulder, her face twisted in pain and despair.

"It's either me," the illusion says with a strenuous effort, "or him."

The old man heaved a few times before nodding in agreement. The next scene is eerily reminiscent of Liv's last moments in the cave hours prior.

"Whatever I couldn't consume," she mutters, "the fire destroyed it. By the time Sukuna arrived, I was gone."

Fire flickers once more and a thunderous cackle echoes from its depths. Liv deduces it is Sukuna's laughter that can be heard and from Rei's expression, she thinks the sound haunts the Great Mother even in death.

"Why are you showing me this?" Liv asks slowly, unable to face the Great Mother.

Rei is silent for a while. "Sukuna will return."

In a moment of utter shock, the air in the forest seemingly dissipates, leaving nothing but the looming dread behind. The moon overhead shines bright and the wind gently whistles among the trees. Liv's eyes widen as the gravity of the situation slowly dawns on her.

"You don't know that," she denies, shaking her head in a last attempt at wishful thinking.

Rei looks away, a small smirk dancing on her lips. 

"Dead is dead, there is no coming back from that," Liv counters fervently. "What makes you so sure he will prevail?"

"Who better to know," the Great Mother mutters disdainfully, "than his own flesh and blood?"

Revelations keep on coming and Liv is unprepared for this kind of truth. The mere implications could be catastrophic. If Satoru knew, he -

What would he do?

"Do you understand now?" 

Her train of thought is interrupted as the Great Mother speaks. 

"You didn't tell us," Liv says breathlessly. 

"Idiots are everywhere, pup," Rei drawls. "Fools seeking power through whatever means necessary. Sukuna can get into anyone's head and I would rather down hot iron than let that beast return because of me and my bloodline."

As she further elaborates, the pieces slowly fall into place. Rei's abnormally long lifespan, the secrecy, the plotting, the checkered history of their bloodline - the irony of her entire life.

"Fuck me," Liv mutters dejectedly. 

Rei scoffs. "Don't worry, I've got some good news."

Liv quirks a brow. A moment of silence passes before the Great Mother takes a step forward. She places her left hand over Liv's forehead, pressing a finger between her eyebrows.

"Telling you everything could damage your mind," Rei says softly, "and we can't have that, so we'll take it slow, one memory at a time."

She rubs her thumb under the younger woman's eyes. "We'll start with your trauma so you can get accustomed to the pain."

Liv doesn't like the sound of that. "And then?"

"Once you have the whole picture before you," Rei responds, taking a step back, "you can decide what to do next."

"What do you - ?"

"We're running out of time, pup," she says curtly before snapping her fingers.

Liv's vision blurs and her head spins as she finds it difficult to maintain her balance. Within seconds, the moon bleeds into the night canvas and Liv falls back to the ground, her consciousness slipping away.

 

///

 

November 13th, 2016. / 09:01 / Zen'in Compound, Gunma Prefecture, Japan

 

Eat, serve, sleep, repeat.

From early morning to late evening. A minimalistic, simplistic, and overly subservient lifestyle for a young woman. Alas, that is what the women of the Zen'in clan are - minimalistic, simplistic, and overly subservient. They have no opinions, no voice or rights, not even control over their bodies and they certainly don't question the men of the household. See nothing, hear nothing, know nothing.

These are the words Maki Zen'in has heard repeatedly in her life.

Service and servitude are separate terms; one is compensated dutiful labor, and the other is just labor. Maki feels more like a slave than a servant these days. There are a lot of things that she cannot do and seldom a few things she can do. Up until a few years ago, Maki thought she could change her life circumstances by proving she could be as strong as any man. That is why she joined the Kukuru Unit. She has trained harder than any other Kukuru member, junior and senior. There is no weapon she's not proficient with and no man she can't knock off his feet.

Even so, she's still just dirt beneath their feet.

It's pointless, she thinks bitterly while scrubbing the floors, for someone like me. The grinding of her teeth has become a habit lately and her jaw tends to be sore from the strain. Maki knows getting frustrated over things she can't control is pointless as well. But it's not fair, she scoffs inwardly, throwing the rag angrily aside.

"We have mops today," she mumbles a complaint under her breath. "What are we, in feudal Japan?"

That's another thing about the Zen'in - it is traditional to a fault. The entire compound has hardly changed since its erection centuries prior. The rooms, the dojo, the gardens - even the sewage is a genuine artifact of the old times. Thankfully, she's not in charge of the wastewater and fecal sludge but she pities the poor souls that are. Not only do we have to take all of their shit but also clean their actual shit.

It is stupid and outdated in Maki's opinion, all of it. She knows she's not the only one who thinks like this but no one will speak up. Even her sister, Mai, would rather lay low, keep her head down, and serve obediently than voice her discomfort and disdain for the mistreatment they endure. Maki doesn't blame her, she even understands her to some degree but she can't condone Mai's actions. This isn't even living.

Maki glances at the front courtyard of the clan head's residence. The main house is meticulously furnished and special care is taken in its upkeep. There is a small garden of flower bushes with multiple petals grouped in a ball (those would be hydrangeas, Maki). It is beautiful, she admits but she's not a green thumb, so she figures the same could be said about any type of plant. She can't help but feel it's out of place, however, for flowers to bloom in the compound. Nothing is nurturing about the Zen'in clan yet the greenery flourishes on their grounds. As if the plants know the difference between good and bad, she notes. Give it some sunshine and water, and it'll bloom from concrete.

Yet, even among those perseverant blooms, darkness looms unbothered. Worse yet, most people wouldn't even notice them. Maki herself can't see the curses unless she wears cursed glasses. Otherwise, she might as well pass them by, unbothered. This fact, coupled with the myriad of her other 'shortcomings', makes her even more useless.

She glances at her hands, callouses dotting her palms; some from cleaning, most from training. Maki is not weak, she knows this. Taut muscles hide beneath her hakama and hakamashita. She can haul more bags and crates over her head than most male servants, let alone female. On top of that, she uses every opportunity to train. Long working hours don't bother her as much, nor does lack of nutrition or sleep (she still appreciates chances for a decent meal and proper sleep, thank you very much).

And still, to them, it makes no difference.

There has to be a place for me in this clan, she thinks to herself stubbornly, flexing her fingers absentmindedly before making two tight fists.

I'm a Zen'in too.

Hearing someone approaching, she shakes her head, clearing her thoughts before rubbing the floor again. Not long after, the person makes themselves known by letting out the most ridiculous sneer Maki has ever heard them make.

"That's a nice position, Maki," says the obnoxious intruder.

She need not look over her shoulder to know who it is. The precious son, the spoiled prodigy, the imperfect copy of the current clan leader in terms of ability - Naoya.

Maki tries not to scowl as she rubs the floor.

"Not even a nod?" he muses with an annoying tone. "Rude."

Letting out a soft sigh, Maki begrudgingly nods in Naoya's direction. Next thing she knows, his foot ends up embedded in her sides and she folds over even further, gripping her stomach.

"Ah, now this is better," Naoya smiles to himself while Maki struggles to breathe. "Shame, such a pretty face and body. I'd rather have you gag around my cock but you're probably bad at sucking men off."

One way of saying you're afraid I'll bite it off, she retorts inwardly but bites her tongue, focusing on her breathing instead.

"I hate repeating myself, Maki," he coos, staring down at her. "Learn how to serve."

Thankfully, he leaves after that. Maki notes he must be either bored or tired. His usual routine involves much more than a measly kick in the guts. Grunting, Maki leans on her arm as she tries to sit up. Nothing's broken, she realizes as she breathes more easily, only a dull pain lingering around her midsection. She winces. It'll bruise though.

She glances at Naoya's back as he walks across the garden. If looks could kill, Maki would've made a minced pie out of the sorry excuse for a man. I'll make you eat your words, she thinks bitterly. That's my promise.

Rolling her eyes, she slowly stands up, holding her stomach with one hand and the dirty rag in another before resuming her work.

 

///

 

November 13th, 2016. / 10:20 / Nara Prefecture, Japan

 

Miguel sits in the foyer where he and his family have gathered. The mansion was borrowed (read confiscated) from a wealthy pair cursed by a particularly nasty curse with an arsonic tendency. Suguru offered to absorb the thing for the right price. At their wits' end, the couple agreed and not only were they rid of a curse, but they were also down to their last penny.

The couple didn't live long afterward. Realizing they've been more or less scammed, they tried to attack Suguru in a pitiful attempt at retribution - with kitchen knives, of all things. They were dead before they could get close enough to smell him. A few hours later, their bodies were disposed of and the blood was cleaned off the floors.

It is like they were never even here.

Miguel has little qualms getting rid of non-sorcerers, especially if they're pesky and annoying the shit out of him. After all, he cares about Suguru and wants to make his dream a reality. If non-sorcerers have to die for that dream, he's glad to comply.

However, he finds himself looking up the photo on his lock screen and smiling softly at the face of the woman he cherishes more than anything. So beautiful, he thinks to himself often. His mistress is one of a kind. Miguel regrets disappointing her three years ago. He doesn't regret following Suguru, though. The world Suguru envisions is the world Miguel wants to see himself in.

He wishes his mistress would want it too.

"We can't have it all," he sighs as his thumb rests near her face on the image.

His phone rings and Miguel sees Mathias' name on the screen. Curious, he picks up the call before pressing the phone against his ear.

"This is a surprise," he says teasingly. "It's not even my birthday."

A short silence follows. "It might as well be."

Miguel quirks a brow. "Oh? And why is that?"

He hears Mathias chuckle before answering, "The silence is broken, Amadi."

Miguel's mind is suddenly blank. There are no thoughts, no emotions, no images - point blank. Then, he slowly takes in Mathias' words. The silence is broken. Those are the words that the Shuuin have never heard. The silence is broken. He takes a deep breath and as he exhales, a chuckle escapes his throat and his eyes tear up. The silence is broken.

"You're free," he whispers.

"We're free," Mathias mirrors.

The spy reaches for the spot above his heart and checks his heartbeat. It is falling into an uneven rhythm, probably due to the excitement.

"Is she - " Miguel asks hesitantly.

Mathias understands even if he doesn't say it. "She's somewhere out there but have faith."

"Call me when she gets back," Miguel silently pleads.

The older Drakon sibling concurs before hanging up.

 

///

 

November 13th, 2016. / 16:12 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Tove puts down the phone and sighs.

"Is that all of them?" Rune asks exasperatedly, resting her forehead against the table. "I don't think I've ever spent that much time talking to someone over the phone."

"Me too," Tove agrees, her eyes closed. "It seems surreal, all of this."

"I know, right?" Rune jokes. "It seems like yesterday, you told me to run thirty laps around the Manor. Instead, I'm running thirty calls per day. Not that I mind."

Tove chuckles. "There's a whole day ahead of us. I wouldn't celebrate just yet."

An adorable pout appears on the younger spy's face as she looks at her superior. She falls to the ground on her knees and crawls to the woman, her hands clasped in a praying manner.

"I'll behave, I promise," she says hurriedly, rubbing her palms. "I'll be the goodest, no, the bestest spy."

Tove ignores that 'goodest' and 'bestest' aren't words as she answers, "Stop that."

Rune stands up immediately. "Yes, ma'am."

The two are interrupted by Mathias entering the Manor's living room. He's tired and it's rather obvious, given the dark circles under his eyes. As the unofficial spokesperson for their mistress, he's in charge. The elders are understanding, the spies are complacent but their relatives are acting up.

"How are things on your end?" Tove asks softly.

Mathias slumps on the chair nearby and sighs in frustration. "I just broke the news to the Cormac sisters."

Both spies wince.

"Their first question was if Liv is alive," he says evenly, adding, "Their second question was whether Satoru divorced her yet."

Tove rolls her eyes. "They're thinking with their vaginas again."

"Can't blame them this time," Rune mumbles. "He's dreamy."

Tove glares at her. "Rune - "

"Nothing, nothing," the younger woman says quickly, shaking her head. "So, what else did they say?"

Mathias hums. "They worry about what's going to happen next."

"We've finished what we set out to do, right?" Rune asks. "Gojo is on our side, our mistress is the mistress now and the Shuuin are free. There's nothing to worry about anymore."

Tove doesn't agree. "Except the mistress is gone while the clan has to reform."

Rune quirks a brow. "Why? We're doing just fine now."

"Yes but our clan politics was made around the Vow," Mathias points out. "With it gone, things have to change. It's normal."

"So what do we do?" Rune asks.

Silence. No one has an answer to that question.

"Do we wait for Liv?" Tove asks carefully. "The elders can wait but the others will get snippy if Cormac's are any indication."

Mathias nods. "Liv will probably be out of commission for a while."

"What about Gojo?" Tove asks. "Should we ask him for help?"

"The higher-ups will notice if he's sniffing around the Manor too often," Mathias shakes his head. "Besides, having him interfere will only create more confusion."

"Guess that's that," Tove says then sighs in defeat. "I hate the sitting ducks game."

"Yeah," Mathias says softly, closing his eyes. "Me too."

 

///

 

November 13th, 2016. / 23:11 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru throws his jacket on the armrest and slumps on the couch, letting out a long sigh.

The penthouse is empty and he's acutely aware of it. The hustle and bustle of his everyday life leaves him craving for solitude. Yet, the deafening silence is unnerving to him. He's grown accustomed to having Liv around. It is quiet, yes, but at least it's comfortably quiet. 

He frowns. What now? he thinks incredulously. The things he thought he knew about Liv are suddenly warped. He suspected things, sure but nothing akin to this. Not even I'm that insightful, he scoffs as he takes off his blindfold and rubs his eyes. They're sore again, he notices.

Satoru takes a deep breath and tries to relax. The body he trained all these years to sustain damage beyond most people's limits is almost as sore as his eyes. The weariness and exhaustion have caught up with him. Bottled-up stress and overexertion are finally bubbling up to the surface. No wonder I'm so sappy, he shudders.

"I need a day off," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

His head starts pounding and he groans as he falls to the side, burying his face into the pillow. Stars dance in front of his eyes and the view over Roppongi seems to dance a little. He groans again and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the constant pounding.

"Heartless woman," he mumbles with a pout.

Ten minutes later he's fast asleep.

 

///

 

March 21st, 1997. / 00:00 / Tokyo, Japan

 

A single cupcake and a match, both of which she stole from a supermarket.

It is only so much her little hands can carry but Liv has decided to make this day better than any so far. As such, she trots around the darkened passages and alleys, careful to avoid suspicious strangers who might take notice of her.

Liv is hiding in an alleyway, one of many in Tokyo. She can't pinpoint where she is exactly but the neighborhood she found herself in smells of garbage and piss, mixed with spilled alcohol and vomit. Her shelter for the night is a narrow passage. Two people can hardly pass through and there are chips on the walls, indicating that the buildings around are old and neglected. She has scavenged a somewhat clean crate to sit on but it's in a miserable condition so she figures it won't hold her weight. Instead, she uses it as a table for her stolen goods.

Squatting down and hugging her knees, Liv closes her eyes and wishes real hard, so hard that she thinks her brain might explode from all the wishing. Please, please, please, she pleads before opening her eyes. She imagines the match light up and pretends to blow it like a candle. A lonesome tear trails down her left cheek but she quickly brushes it away. Big girls don't cry, she reminds herself as she smiles and takes the cupcake, savoring it like it's the last thing she'll ever eat.

It is her sixth or seventh week of being cut off. Her mother's words were explicit - you are on your own. No money privileges, protection from the spies, or asking relatives for help. You want to defy destiny ? she recalls the words that still send chills down her spine. Go ahead, if you think you can.

I can, Liv thinks bitterly and hugs her knees closer. I know I can.

 

///

 

November 25th, 2016. / 04:28 / Nikko, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

A single orange and an incense stick, both of which she borrowed from another grave.

Liv's breaths are even as she looks at the stone grave, her mother's name etched into the material and glazed with golden paint. Sumiye Shuuin wanted to be buried among the honored dead. It is not a Shuuin custom and for a woman who held to the traditions, her last wish was surprisingly selfish. Liv honored her wish nevertheless, despite their broken relationship.

There are no tears in Liv's eyes as she lights up the incense with a borrowed lighter, watching the scented smoke twirl upward. She kneels before the tombstone, taking a moment to reflect on memories long past. In a twisted way, Liv finds satisfaction in knowing she showed kindness to her mother despite everything. She revels in the fact that she can move on from the pain her mother inflicted whereas Sumiye herself never could. She had made Masamichi take on her responsibility instead, be it out of shame or guilt. Maybe both, Liv notes casually.

She despised her mother for being gentle and caring with Mathias. She despised her for being so cold and callous with her. Liv never experienced pain and degradation from anyone in the same manner as from her mother.

Year after year, Liv had hoped that her mother - the woman who gave birth to her - would come around, invite her back into her life, and hug her again. Instead, all Liv received from her mother was disappointment.

Even as she pierced her own heart with a cursed dagger, Sumiye could not tell her daughter that she loved her. She ended her life like a coward. In the wake of her suicide, Sumiye's body was found by Mathias, lying contorted on the floor in her room, blood everywhere.

Liv thought she'd cry at her demise - she was her mother, after all. Instead, she felt relief. It was short-lived however as guilt burned at her heart for feeling such way. She tried to carve out the guilt from her heart. She wanted to be rid of it because Sumiye Shuuin's suicide warranted no guilt on Liv's behalf.

Yet, the guilt persisted for years. It is partially the reason why she left Japan soon after her death. She thought it made no sense to linger where her mother used to dwell. Satoru was delaying the nuptials, Suguru left Jujutsu High, and Shoko went after her medical license - Liv was alone. She had no other choice but to search for happiness outside of Japan. Now that she's back, she realizes she has been deluding herself.

It is a conflicting emotion, guilt. It gnaws and shreds, and clouds one's judgment. On the other hand, it reminds us that we're human and supposed to feel guilty for committing sins. But it isn't my sin, Liv reminds herself yet again. I didn't kill her. True enough, it was a suicide, a work of Sumiye's own hands that put a stop to her time in this world.

It is time to let go of what is not hers.

"Dead should stay dead," Liv says softly, tracing the inscribed name on the tombstone with a gentle touch. "Happy birthday, Okaasan."

Offering a quick prayer, Liv stands up and leaves the cemetery, her hands shoved into the pockets of her sweatpants. She could look back, spare one more glance at her mother's resting place but it wouldn't be honest. Moving on means letting go and not looking back. She descends the staircase leading to the gate and into the small parking lot. 

The cemetery is close to Nikko. It is old and rugged, littered with stones old enough to be considered ancient. It is quiet, like most places where the dead sleep but the quaint atmosphere is somewhat comforting. Fitting, Liv agrees given that comfort is what those who live on need the most. She chose to spot out of convenience rather than for some special meaning. After all, the Shuuin are taught that death is not the end so the resting place is symbolic, not pragmatic. They remember their dead but they do not worship their corpses nor do they find comfort in such practices.

"She was a force to be reckoned with," Rei comments from her side. "Maybe not in terms of raw strength but in terms of natural genius, no modern-day sorcerer can rival her."

Not even me? Liv wonders briefly.

Rei scoffs. "Fine, except you. So sensitive - "

Liv chuckles. "Are those your thoughts or is this the projection of my beliefs?"

Rei shrugs. "Whichever makes you sleep at night."

Her choice of words gives Liv the answer. It is not what she hoped to get but at least she's not left wondering. She has come to gloat over Sumiye's corpse one final time, regardless of anyone's opinions, including her own.

 

///

 

November 25th, 2016. / 07:30  / Ieiri Residence, Shimokitazawa, Tokyo, Japan

 

Shoko fumbles with her apartment keys.

She doesn't remember the last time she spent in her bed. Was it twenty-three? she thinks to herself, trying to recall the personal record number of days in a row she spent sleeping in her designated room on campus. This time, it's been thirty days, an entire month.

Shoko is a workaholic and she's not ashamed of that. However, she's still a doctor (a good one despite cheating to get her license earlier). She knows when she needs a break from corpses, gashing wounds, and the smell of 70% ethanol solution and formaldehyde.

Her next day off is nowhere in sight but she has ten hours before her next shift so she might as well spend the time in the comfort of home.

Finally getting the right key into the keyhole, she turns the bloody thing twice and slumps inside her small apartment. Closing the door, she throws her bag on the floor. Her coat is left on a nearby rack. She steps out of her heels, not bothering to put them inside the shoe cabinet. She then trods her way over to the fridge, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders as she reaches for a bottle of beer on the lower shelf before slamming the door shut. Time for a new one. She realizes that she needs to push the door shut several times.

Taking the cap off, Shoko takes the first swig of her beer. She walks the short distance to the window overlooking the street. It is busy, as always. People are enjoying hopping from one shop to another, spending their salaries on clothes, shoes, and other things that are not essential. Spend it on alcohol, my fellow countrymen, she thinks to herself as she toasts to the crowd below before taking another swig and sitting down on her emerald velvet couch.

Shimokitazawa wasn't her first choice when she went apartment-hunting a year ago. Rather, she wanted to move to Asakusa. The selection process went as follows: Shibuya is expensive, so is Shinjuku, and Roppongi is too close to Satoru. There was an option of moving to the outskirts of Tokyo, as it is technically closer to the Jujutsu High's campus. However, she chose Shimokitazawa for a simple but somewhat cheesy reason.

It is nostalgic.

Shoko believes growing up is normal and natural. Everyone grows up eventually, whether they want to or not. As each year passes, though, she longs for the years before she has grown up. People come, people go, she remembers saying to Utahime sometime after Liv left eight years ago. Her senpai warned her that her nonchalant distancing from other people would only make her feel more lonely.

She was right, of course, and Shoko thinks part of the reason they hang out is because Utahime refuses to leave her alone. 'Caring' is, after all, Utahime's strong suit. She gives without expecting anything in return. People like her and while some tend to abuse that giving nature, Utahime has learned how to draw a line after getting burned a couple of times.

Shoko is not like that. She can be kind, sure. Otherwise, she wouldn't have any friends; she wouldn't be a doctor. Unlike Utahime, however, she can't give without getting anything in return, or rather, she knows she'll be left hanging if she gives too much away.

A single glance at Satoru reminds her of that fact every day.

Yet, her outlook shifted after Liv returned a month ago. It is as if they're back in high school. There is laughter and fun. Shoko hadn't had fun like that night in Tasuichi in years. Utahime was still drunk when she woke up and bawled her eyes out as Liv was back in Japan. It may have been the drunkness or it may have been a genuine joy. Either way, it's a testament to how much life Liv Drakon breathed into their lives.

And then, she left again or so the rumor has it.

Shoko had anticipated it somewhat. It has always been a pattern of sorts. Liv comes back, shit goes down, she ups and leaves, and then comes back again. Even in high school, she'd be present for several weeks, then leave, come back, and so on. However, as Shoko learned over the years, the repetitive aspect of the pattern is irregular. The lengths of presence and absence respectively vary, depending on numerous factors but most of all, they depend on Liv's whim.

"You missed my birthday, bitch," Shoko mutters bitterly.

She sighs and closes her eyes. Despite her fervorous displeasure with her friend's actions, Shoko tries not to worry. Shoko believes Liv will be fine if she keeps out of trouble.

What if she isn't fine?

Shoko sighs again.

Then, we're screwed and Gojo will get even more annoying. That's the scenario Shoko doesn't want to witness.

Snapped out of her thoughts, Shoko hears her phone buzz. Realizing the device is in her purse, she forces herself off the couch and walks sluggishly toward the discarded bag on the floor. Rummaging through it, she pulls out her phone and unlocks it.

1 missed call

Shoko frowns as she opens the list of missed calls and sees Utahime's name first on the list. Shoko looks at the clock in the corner of the display that reads 07:47. Curious as to why the woman has called her so early in the morning, Shoko dials her number and presses the device against her ear. Barely two rings later, Utahime picks up.

"Morning," she says, not chirpily but not evenly either.

Shoko answers, her throat raspy, "To you, maybe. What's up? Why did you call?"

"I had a coffee with the drummer yesterday," Utahime answers, a hint of nervousness in her tone. "He wouldn't shut up about our nightingale."

In her tired and slightly alcohol-influenced dazed state, it takes Shoko a while to figure out what the woman is talking about. Drummer? she thinks to herself quizzically. Nightingale? She's fairly certain she doesn't know any drummers and she's also certain she doesn't have any birds in the apartment or pets in general. Did Utahime have a date with someone? She shakes her head. She'd have told me that if she had.

"And?" Shoko urges her to continue.

"Told him the bird flew out the window and we haven't seen her in weeks," Utahime says simply.

Another minute passes in silence. What are you talking about? Shoko wonders in bafflement, still not understanding. The bird flew out the window? Haven't seen her in weeks? Shoko frowns as she dissects those two sentences, looking for bits and pieces that might make sense. She's speaking in riddles. Then, it dawns on her; the drummer and the nightingale, and she brings a hand over her mouth. Shoko is certain her face has gotten even paler.

"Did he say anything else?" Shoko asks, her voice strained from the sudden tension in her entire body.

Utahime hesitates to answer. "He thinks a cat might've caught her."

Shoko's eyes widen. "His cat?"

"Heavens, I hope not," Utahime answers grimly.

"Shit," Shoko curses.

"By the way," Utahime adds, "I can't reach the princess since last night. Do you know where she is?"

Shoko sighs as she runs a hand through her hair. "She picked up extra shifts at the bar. I'll tell her you called."

"Okay," Utahime says curtly before asking, "Lunch tomorrow at my place?"

Shoko swallows the lump in her throat. "Yeah. See ya'."

"Later," Utahime says softly and hangs up.

Shoko groans and takes a mouthful of her beer before gulping it down. The taste seems tart in her mouth though this particular brand is supposed to be more on the sweeter side of the spectrum. She normally prefers bitterness in her alcohol but now, she has no appetite for it so she dumps the rest of the bottle into the sink in her kitchenette. She then puts the glass bottle in the safe corner of the kitchen counter before she dials Satoru's phone number. It takes her a few attempts before the man finally answers.

"This better be important," she hears Satoru groan from the other side of the line.

"As if I'd call you just to hear your voice, idiot," Shoko says evenly. "Why aren't you picking up the phone?"

"Am I not allowed to answer my phone when I want to?" he asks blatantly.

Shoko rolls her eyes. "You're such a trash, honestly."

A short silence follows her statement. "I'm gonna hang up now, Shoko."

"Before you do that," she cuts in, "Gakuganji may or may not have sent someone after Drakon."

Another short silence follows her statement. She thinks he's either too stunted to answer right away or his brain is going through all the possible scenarios in which Liv possibly gets hurt. Knowing the man as well as she does, Shoko leans more towards the latter option.

"Took them long enough," the man sighs. "Oh well, good luck to them."

Shoko quirks a brow. "What?"

Satoru chuckles. "It's not that bad."

She almost doesn't believe what's coming from the sorcerer's mouth. "Gojo, this is Drakon we're talking about - your wife."

"I'm aware," he says lazily. "I never gave a damn about her safety before. I sure as hell ain't gonna start now."

After all these years, she shouldn't be surprised. She shouldn't be affected at all by his blatant disregard for other people.

"You don't mean that," she says anyway because she knows, she hopes it's true to some capacity.

His subsequent silence suggests otherwise.

"Whatever," he yawns disinterestingly in response. "Night, Shoko."

She hears him hang up before she can respond.

"It's morning, dipshit."

 

///

 

November 25th, 2016. / 08:00  / Gojo Residence, Roppongi,  Tokyo, Japan

 

A faint click echoes in the penthouse's empty kitchen as Satoru locks his phone. He twirls the device atop the kitchen counter while his mind is occupied with the latest bit of news he has received. They're not pulling any punches, he thinks to himself, flicking his ring finger and letting the phone whirl as a result. I guess Mei Mei and her crows are not enough to satiate their curiosity.

Satoru groans before letting his head fall on the kitchen counter, supported by his right arm. He half-thought he'd be able to enjoy his 'free' morning, maybe even take a nap.

"So much for that," he grumbles with a pout on his lips.

His thoughts circle back to the issue at hand. Satoru wonders if Principal Gakuganji is merely throwing a bluff. The man knows of Utahime's friendship with Liv so he's probably trying to capitalize on it. Whatever, he scoffs inwardly. There's no way anyone can track her down at this point. He's certain that even if the old bag sent someone after Liv, they'd simply fail and return empty-handed.

"But why bother sending someone after her if it's only a bluff?" he wonders out loud, scratching his chin. "Do they know something I don't?"

That particular thought makes him realize that, while unlikely, there could be something the HQ knows that he doesn't. Liv Drakon can be tight-lipped when she wants to be and while they agreed there would be no secrets between them, Satoru can't shake off the feeling that she's deliberately withholding something anyway.

Satoru's only advantage right now is that he knows Liv leaves no residuals so targeting her through conventional means will be a fool's errand. While this buys him time, the fact that she's yet to return complicates matters. The Council's warning looms over his head constantly and again, while he's still able to brush it off, he can't do it indefinitely.

Satoru sighs. It would be unwise to just dust off his hands and call it a day. Instead, he tries to think of a way to check if Gakuganji is throwing a bluff or not.

It just so happens that Satoru knows someone who might give him an answer to that dilemma.

 

///

 

November 25th, 2016. / 10:01 / Edogawa , Tokyo, Japan

 

Miguel wonders if he will ever get used to this.

By this, he means having a night out with his family members without having to come across a curse. Granted, this is Japan - curses are everywhere. Exorcising curses is one thing -

Watching Suguru swallow them is another entirely different matter.

The Shuuin spy remembers the day he met the notorious raven-head. He was on business for his mistress at the time, collecting information from the underground. A good spy network includes being up to date with information and news. Frequent expeditions to the crime underbelly ensure the Shuuin clan remains on top of things.

At the time, Miguel was catching up with bounties. Nearly every active sorcerer has a price on their head; some more, others less. Competition among curse users for the prize money isn't unusual and more often than not, the Shuuin escaped certain death by outracing the curse users and taking down bounties.

However, not all curse users are bounty hunters. Some are more interested in brokering information. Others are engaged in more political affairs.

And some, like Suguru Geto, are busy collecting allies and followers.

Miguel has always been a Shuuin through and through. Freedom of choice and understanding of consequence have been drilled into him both by his mistress and his superior, the Shuuin spymaster Tove Dahl. He has also warned that while there is a blurry line of distinction between the Shuuin principles and what they frown upon, it is still a line and it shouldn't be crossed.

Miguel crossed that line after his fourth encounter with Suguru.

He was hesitant at first. The smooth talker that he is, Suguru spoke of his ideals and dreams with fervor and determination. There has never been an ounce of doubt in his voice or his convictions. Miguel believed him a lunatic, spouting nonsense with his every breath. Yet, when that same lunatic showed him the other side of the conflict, Miguel got curious.

True to his statement at the wedding, Miguel had never colluded with the 'enemy'. He consulted with his mistress before making any decisions. It was the longest discussion they ever had and at its conclusion, Miguel realized that Liv didn't disagree with Suguru, per se.

Rather, she found his methods unorthodox.

His decadent use of force and his gifts to eradicate one portion of the entire populace is what rubs Liv the wrong way. All life is sacred, she'd say when Miguel brought up the subject. Shouldn't sorcerers' lives be sacred too? When she didn't answer his counterquestion, Miguel made his decision.

Shortly after, he approached Suguru and the rest is history.

It has been five years since then. Miguel has witnessed even more horror and nightmares onward, all of which further solidified his decision to support Suguru. The discrepancy and degeneracy of the masses, the hypercriticism of the jujutsu society, and the utter madness of the world at large merely served to open his eyes further to the problem they're all facing. At some point, he has desensitized and his ideology has condensed into a singular goal - now, he just wants Suguru to be the king.

And for you to be his queen, he finds himself thinking as he gazes upon the picture that is the lock screen of his phone. A small smile graces his lips as he brushes the face of his mistress with his thumb, ever so slightly, ever so gently. He wishes she'd made a different choice three years ago, in New Orleans.

He wishes she'd chosen Suguru instead of Satoru.

Standing over him, still in his dark monk robes, is the raven-haired sorcerer he calls family. Miguel doesn't feel the need to hide the picture on his phone, though he should. After all, Liv and Suguru are now more-or-less enemies. However, the older man knows that Suguru longs to see her face, especially her smile.

So, Miguel indulges him, pretending not to notice his presence for a solid ten seconds.

"Had enough?" he suddenly asks and Suguru clears his throat, looking away.

"The dress is nice," the raven head says in response, a tight smile on his while he keeps his hands inside the sleeves of his robes.

"You won't ask me where this is? Or, why is she in white?"

A moment of silence passes before Suguru answers in an overly sweet tone, dripping with venom, "No."

Because I already know.

"Home, then?" Miguel asks even though he's already on his feet and ready to go.

Suguru nods before turning on his heel. "Home."

Love is a wonderful thing, truly - but when unrequited, it can hurt like a bitch.

 

///

 

November 26th, 2016. / 19:12 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Mathias sighs.

He's been doing a lot of that, sighing. Whether because of something concrete or simply out of habit, he figures if people have to describe him with one word, it would be 'sigh'. Today is hard as everyone seems to gang up on him.

The Shuuin are demanding answers, most of them having to do with the current predicament they find themselves in. Mathias understands their panic. Most of the Shuuin keep to the old ways, rejecting the postulates of modern sorcery. They prefer to practice their skills freely, without interference from the jujutsu higher-ups and their regulations. Many would like to unveil their secret world of curses now that the silence is broken, believing it to be the true path toward a better future. However, they worry that their mistress will continue to pretend, choosing to hide yet again.

No wonder jujutsu sorcerers are short on manpower, he thought to himself at some point. It seems like everyone wants to be a curse user these days.

On the other side of the issue, there are the higher-ups. His position as the Councilman gives him access to their thoughts and in exchange, he has to sit through Council meetings and suffer their gut-wrenching presence. Old men and women are set in their ways, lacking any grace and wisdom that should be synonymous with their position. Instead, they are like piranhas, waiting for a bleeding prey to tear to pieces. With the Inner Eye, Mathias can at least predict the possible course of action they will take in case the Shuuin clan does something the HQ disapproves of. In theory, it is a fair exchange and now he's sitting in the Council chamber.

In practice, however - 

"Councilman Drakon," the presiding Councilman suddenly says. "There are rumors about your sister circulating. Something about her being out of the country for unspecified reasons."

Took them long enough, Mathias thinks to himself.

"We gave you a fair warning, Councilman Drakon," another Councilman says sternly.

Mathias blinks. "Yes, I remember."

"Then where is she?" the same Councilman asks rudely.

The older Drakon sibling takes a deep breath. "My sister is a free spirit. She's not the type to wait for her spouse to grace her with his presence."

The astute statement still gives the higher-ups a sense of dishonesty. The Shuuin have been cooperative and Mathias tries to do his job properly but the higher-ups are stubborn and paranoid, not to mention nosy. 

"Liv Drakon is a member of jujutsu society now," the presiding Councilman points out erroneously. "She has duties - "

"Such as?"

His question throws them off. It is direct and on point.

"What's that supposed to mean?" one of the other Councilmen asks in return.

Mathias quirks a brow. "Out of the entire Shuuin clan, I have duties to the jujutsu society. My sister and the rest of our clan are still outside this world."

The presiding Councilman takes a moment to comment, "Explain yourself."

There is a short pause and the tension in the headquarters is almost palpable. Play your cards right, Mathias, he reminds himself.

"It is not a lie when we say we want to foster a better relationship between the Shuuin and the rest of the jujutsu society," he explains.

"I'm hearing a 'but' in there somewhere," one of the Councilmen comments.

"We're not fools, gentlemen," Mathias continues softly. "Our history taught us not to trust blindly."

"Then you're not fostering trust," the presiding Councilman points out. "You're simply testing the waters."

"Aren't you doing the same?"

All heads turn to the entrance where Satoru Gojo stands almost comically, dressed in a slightly casual outfit with his hands stuck into his pockets. There is a grin on his lips as if he's satisfied with himself for breaking (more like fueling) the tension in the air.

"Don't tell me you expected them to yield just like that," Satoru says as he leisurely walks up to the center of the room. "We're talking about a clan comprised of people who call themselves sorcerers for the sake of simplicity, not because they see themselves as such."

Mathias' brows rise in surprise. He finds it baffling that his brother-in-law is so tactless with his words, despite them being true.

"Your report is overdue, Satoru Gojo," the presiding Councilman says. "By twenty-one days, no less."

"My apologies," Satoru mocks the man. "I was busy elsewhere."

Such as searching for my cannibal wife, he thinks sarcastically while glancing at Mathias. The older Drakon frowns in response.

"Have you finished the job?" the other Councilman asks.

"Of course," Satoru chirps. "That's why you sent me, right?"

"What have you discovered in Fukushima?" Mathias cuts in.

Satoru hums while pouting. "Nothing impressive. It seems the curse user was just an unlucky bastard."

"Did he have contact with foreign sorcerers?" the presiding Councilman asks.

Satoru shakes his head in response. "The man had been a shut-in. He hardly communicated with anyone."

"Which means this was all a string of coincidences," Mathias concludes.

The rest of the Council agrees.

"We will revise the case once you submit the report," the presiding Councilman says. "Now, in regards to your wife - "

"Your questions are intrusive and inappropriate," Satoru says evenly, a wicked smile on his lips. "I respect my wife far too much to entertain whatever this is."

Silence falls upon the Council. In retrospect, Mathias thinks Satoru was merely playing the husband role to buy them some time but his tone and overall performance were substantially believable. Even the Council is taken aback by the straightforwardness of the white-haired sorcerer.

"Next time you get the idea of running your mouth about my wife," he threatens as he turns on his heel and heads outside, "I won't turn a blind eye like I did today."

The shogi door shuts behind the man and the Council room is silent. Mathias resists the urge to smirk in satisfaction as he looks around the Council room. Self-serving bastards, he thinks spitefully.

The Council meeting is concluded shortly, with Mathias being reminded to report to the Council once his sister returns. He nods in acknowledgment and leaves the HQ with a certain heaviness in his stomach.

Once outside, he realizes it's still daytime. However, the sun is approaching the horizon, indicating late afternoon. He looks at his watch and, true enough, it is 20:00. Sighing once more, Mathias cracks his neck and decides to call it a day.

"Oi!"

Or not.

"Fuck my life," Mathias mutters as he looks over his shoulder, noticing Satoru standing not that far away. "What do you want, Gojo?"

A simple smile cracks on the man's face as he beckons the older Drakon sibling. "Let's go for a drink."

Mathias blinks, is silent for a second, and then walks away from the sorcerer. Satoru catches up to the man in a few long strides.

"Come on," Satoru whines. "We're family, we're supposed to do stuff like this."

"Except we never did stuff like that," Mathias retorts evenly.

Satoru grins. "Maybe we should start."

"No thanks," Mathias answers curtly and starts walking faster, hoping to distance from Satoru.

He feels a firm grip on his shoulder and halts his step. He closes his eyes and frowns.

"It wasn't a question," Satoru says almost too sweetly as his grip gets tighter around Mathias' shoulder.

There it is. That's what Mathias disapproves about Satoru. It is not his flippant nature or egotistical tendencies, most sorcerers have those same traits. Even the Shuuin display the same characteristics, otherwise they wouldn't have survived for as long as they did. Satoru's greatest flaw is his bullying. Near-infinite power and strength ensure Satoru's advantage over everyone around him and he knows this. His thought and problem-solving process revolve around the same principle - might equal right.

Ironically, the reality of their positions of strength forces Mathias to go for a drink with his brother-in-law.

 

///

 

November 26th, 2016. / 20:31 / Tokyo, Japan

 

The two men find themselves sitting in a random cafe (it wasn't random, Satoru picked, but to Mathias, it might as well have been random since it's a themed cafe).

"You know," Satoru begins jokingly, sipping on his Virgin Margarita, "I think this was bound to happen sooner or later."

Mathias sighs. "Careful, Gojo. I'm starting to believe you like my company."

The white-haired sorcerer gasps. "Preposterous!"

Mathias chuckles, despite himself.

"She popped up yet?" Satoru asks, keeping his gaze on his mocktail.

Mathias shakes his head. "No. She's still off the radar."

Satoru hums, tracing the lid of his glass with his thumb. "She doesn't want to be found, huh?"

"You know her, Gojo," Mathias comments, sipping his Sazarac. "Liv Drakon does as she pleases, no questions asked."

Satoru sighs. "She has no sense for propriety."

"Pot, kettle," Mathias drawls.

Satoru hums, smirking. "It suits her, though. Makes her different from most people."

Mathias smirks. "Is that why you married her?"

"Well, it's an attractive feature, I admit," Satoru jests before a soft smile stretches his lips, "but, that's not why I married her."

The older Drakon sibling quirks a brow. "What is it, then?"

Satoru sniggers. "That's for me to know and you to dot, dot, dot."

"You're so alike, you almost have the same speech pattern," Mathias mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

"You know what they say," Satoru muses, taking a sip of his drink, "you are the company you keep."

Mathias tries not to comment and succeeds by a hair's breadth.

"Another thing, while we're at it," the white-haired sorcerer continues, "a birdie told me that the higher-ups intend to erase your sister."

Mathias frowns. "Impossible."

"Is it?" Satoru scoffs.

"Yes," Mathias insists. "If there were a plot like that, it'd have to get the approval of all Council members. In addition, I can read all of them, no exceptions."

"Huh," Satoru grunts, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I'd worried over nothing."

Mathias sighs as another laugh escapes the Gojo clan head's throat, shaking his head. They sit in silence for a while, listening to the soft tunes coming out of the speaker and enjoying their beverages for what seems to be a moment of peace.

Mathias looks at the man sitting next to him. He never understood what his sister saw in the sorcerer. Satoru's mind is like a constant strategy game, always analyzing, and planning. That is what he is - the strongest, a living weapon. He is the poster boy of the same system he wants to bring down.

Yet, Liv can see beyond that; beyond the god-like powers and simplistic mindscape of Satoru Gojo. Mathias remains baffled by that fact to this day.

What do you see that the rest of us don't?

 

/// 

 

November 26th, 2016. / 10:11 / Kyoto Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Kyoto, Japan

 

Kyoto Jujutsu High has a long history, much like its sister school in Tokyo. For generations, they have prepared and trained young potentials into capable sorcerers.

But, it's been known to happen every generation or so that they're stuck with one extraordinary potential with an accompanying personality.

Aoi Todo.

This sixteen-year-old boy looks nothing like how a sixteen-year-old boy should look. Instead, picture a guerrilla with no hair on his body save for the head and possibly the groin (no one cares to imagine the latter). He's built like a guerrilla, towering over most adults, whose biceps are the size of a toddler's head. His mentality is slightly more sophisticated, though once in combat, guerrilla.

His peers agree he's the strongest sorcerer in their year. He's loud, eccentric, maybe even slightly insane, and rumors are circulating that he's a student of another monster, just as potent, just as insane. Little do they know that the beast in question is a Special Grade sorcerer named Yuki Tsukumo.

It just so happens that she's in Kyoto.

Her reason for visiting? She's on her way to Tokyo but is stopping to say hello to her former student.

As she strolls around the Kyoto Jujutsu High, Yuki takes a moment to take in the surroundings. While she graduated from the Tokyo branch herself, she didn't care where Aoi got his education. Get good at being a sorcerer, she had told him before he enrolled. Then, we'll talk about the future. Except, the talking bit is the hard part. Yuki knows the kid better than most; the values and knowledge she hammered into that thick skull were worth the effort. On the other hand, there are many nuances in today's society, both within and outside the jujutsu world.

"But that is a topic for another day," she says out loud, sighing as she does so.

Her rose-colored eyes finally catch sight of a young man she took under her wing so many years ago. A soft smile appears on her glossy lips as she realizes he's no longer a boy. Chuckling, the woman calls out his name and waves, getting his attention.

Aoi lifts his gaze and searches for the person calling out to him. It doesn't take him long to recognize the stunning beauty, Yuki Tsukumo. Seeing her smile makes him smile in return. He spares no thought as he rushes to close the gap between them.

"Look at you," she beams as he comes closer. "Uniform looks good!"

He laughs as he lifts her, twirling them around. There is joy in their reunion, even though he's seen her just six months ago. Many don't notice something about Aoi Todo. He's loud, eccentric, maybe even slightly insane but like his mentor, he understands that the life of a jujutsu sorcerer is more than just looking into death's eyes.

It is remembering that life is beautiful and worth living.

"What are you doing here?" he asks as he puts her down. "You didn't even let me know you were coming."

"Surprise," she says, waving her hands like she's holding a pair of pom-poms. "I'm not sticking around for long so we'll have to be brief."

He pouts. "Well, that's no fun."

"Cheer up, Aoi-kun," she says and taps his nose. "You know goodbyes aren't forever."

Aoi sighs. "I know, I know."

Yuki hums. "Good. So, how's school? Up to your expectations?"

The dramatic scoff answers her question. She listens as he goes on and on about his expectations being let down, and how none of his classmates have any passion in their lives.

"This guy talks only about honor and being the perfect heir," he rambles disapprovingly, crossing his arms. "And the girl? Don't get me started on her. She looks like a little witch, floats around on her broom."

Yuki shakes her head. She doesn't want to know about the 'broom' part but listens to the boy/man.

"Worse still," he stresses, "none of them have good taste in women or men, for that matter."

"That won't do," Yuki gasps but smiles nonetheless.

Aoi shakes his head furiously. "It certainly won't!"

He then feels her hand against his shoulder. She aimed for his head but the boy experienced a ridiculous growth spurt in the past few months. He's towering over her. His black eyes meet her rose orbs as she squeezes him.

"This is just the beginning, Aoi-kun," she says softly. "The jujutsu world is small but it will be a sufficient start for you to sharpen your skills."

Aoi frowns. "It doesn't seem like it. These people are boring."

Yuki chuckles. "You still got time to meet more people. Not everyone will be boring, trust me."

He doesn't trust her but he doesn't need to, not yet. Time will prove him otherwise.

"Will I see you again?" he asks instead.

Yuki hums as she crosses her arms. "I'll try to visit but things are getting interesting out there."

Aoi quirks a brow. "How so?"

She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Focus on your studies."

"Master - " he argues but she cuts in with a forced cough.

"Focus, Aoi-kun," she says sternly this time. "Don't waste this opportunity."

He hesitates before nodding in agreement.

She smiles in return. "Good boy."

They chat, with Yuki mostly hyping Aoi to look forward to what's coming. As the time comes for her to leave, she opens her arms and without any restrictions, Aoi embraces her, savoring the moment. The teacher-student duo harbors deep respect and affection for each other yet Yuki hopes he'll learn to care for others in the same manner as he cares for her. Breaking the embrace, she smiles at her former student and cradles his cheek before waving goodbye. He watches as she walks away, saddened as this isn't the first time he sees her back as she leaves him behind. It is a silent promise, a word given before the next time they meet.

He sincerely hopes he'll see her again.

 

///

 

February 10th, 2002. / 17:02 /  Svolvær, Lofoten, Norway

 

The crisp air kisses her face, eliciting vibrant red patches on the apples of her cheeks. The sea rolls in waves as they break on the pebble beach. It has been a couple of years since she was last here but she could never forget this breathtaking image of nature or the slight chill against her skin. Granted, she doesn't even feel the cold from all the excitement coursing through her veins (though that could also be because of the thick coat she's been forced to wear).

She laughs.

"Are you that happy to be here?"

Liv turns around, the smile never leaving her lips as she looks at Toji. Her master stands out like a sore thumb no matter where he is. He's larger than most men she met. The air around him is consistently heavy even in the joyous of times. The permanent scowl on his facial features is the most unfriendly sight one could see on a person's face.

And yet, she thinks he fits just fine here, in this moment, with her.

"Of course," she chirps. "This is the place where I was born!"

Alas, Toji cannot sympathize with her. He doesn't remember feeling anything positive about his birthplace. The Zen'in clan is a den of beasts, unforgiving and relentless to anyone unfortunate to be born into the clan. Toji is a beast, a failed and rejected product of Zen'in's narrow-minded ways.

But the child in front of him is no beast.

"Can't you be happy indoors, at least?" he grumbles, resisting the urge to shiver.

Liv sniggers. "What's the matter, buffy? Catching a cold?"

He grumbles as he ruffles her blond locks. "Got a big mouth there, huh?"

Liv laughs as she tries to pry his hands off the crown of her head. "You're ruining my braids, you oaf!"

"Who are you calling an oaf, shrimp?" he laughs as he continues to annoy her further.

She whacks him, or at least she tries. He catches her hand and pulls her into a bear hug, stifling her words of protest as he buries her face into his jacket. Toji sniggers as she struggles to wiggle out of his grasp. She doesn't give up though and he silently praises her for that indomitable nature.

"You're a real pain in my ass, you know," he says as he loosens his grip.

Liv cocks her head to the side and laughs. "Likewise!"

He laughs as well.

Svolvær is a coastal town on Austvågøya island, part of the Lofoten archipelago. Northern Norway. 5,000 kilometers shy of the North Pole.

Yet for a northern town, it is not as cold as the western part of the archipelago. It makes no difference to Toji, though as they enter at sundown and his balls are freezing. He tries to cover the lower part of his face with the collar of his jacket with little success. The tips of his ears and nose are dangerously close to falling off from the cold. On the other hand, Liv is hardly affected by the weather as she struts the streets of Svolvær without a care.

"Are we there yet?" he calls out to the jittery teen who merely waves her index finger at him. "Do you even know where you're going?"

Liv groans. "For the hundredth time, yes. We need to cross that bridge and we're there."

He grumbles as he follows the twelve-year-old toward some building on an islet. It is an apartment complex of four buildings, each five stories high. They are rugged, though he thinks it might be from the sea air. As they walk, he notices Liv's posture stiffen suddenly. She keeps her shoulders back, her arms locked at her sides and her step slows down. He frowns, recognizing this as a sign of caution. After a few more careful steps, she halts completely and wordlessly motions for him to do the same.

This is one of those moments when he wishes to hear her mind. Her body language doesn't mirror her intentions and he finds that disadvantageous, especially when he needs to know her next move.

She turns around. "Stand back and don't follow."

He shakes his head. "Not gonna happen."

She frowns in response and waves her hand at him. "Go and hide then."

"I am not gonna leave you alone in the middle of nowhere, kid," he argues.

Liv smiles at him as she says, "I'm going to be fine, you worrywart. Besides, you'd attract more attention anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he retorts.

She frowns before rolling her hazel eyes. "It means your head is too big."

"Kid - "

"Just do as I say, okay?" she asks, hugging him by the elbow. "Please?"

Grumbling, he complies and steps into the shadows, pulling his hood over his head. He crosses his arms and waits, his eyes fixed on her small frame.

Meanwhile, she takes a deep breath and then makes a tentative step toward the front side of the complex. Their apartment is in the third building in the row. Liv has no memories of that place, save the few scant recollections of birthdays and Christmas celebrations. Seems like a different life, she thinks to herself sadly.

Once at the front door of the building, she hesitantly looks at the mailboxes and searches for her father's name. Thoraldsen, Nilsen, Hagen, Berg, Dahl. She sees no Drakon among them. Maybe he's using the house name, she wonders and looks closely for 'Dreki'. Magnus Dreki, Magnus Dreki, she repeats to herself while biting the nail on her thumb. She realizes no Magnus Drakon, Magnus Dreki, or similar are in this building.

Turning around, she runs a hand across her forehead. Quarter-way across the world, she thinks to herself bitterly, for nothing. With a heavy sigh, she heads back toward where Toji has been hiding, utterly disappointed. However, before she can even make another step, she realizes something - or someone - is blocking her path. A tall figure, roughly the same size and shape as Toji, standing in front of her with their hands shoved into the pockets of their leather jacket. It is a man, she realizes from the thick blond beard hanging off his chin. Long blond hair covers the crown of his head while wide hazel eyes stare at her. Her eyes grow double in size, a sob caught in her throat as she takes in the man's withered appearance.

She can tell that things have been rough on his side as well.

"Pappa," she whimpers.

 

///

 

May 7th, 2009. / 11:22 / Odda, Norway

 

Small clouds of breath escape her lips as she heaves.

Tentatively, Liv stretches out her hand and pushes the door open. The hinges creak, as lack of oil after years of negligence has rendered them to nothing but rusted iron. The doors themselves barely function as the sea air has ruined the wood. As they fling open, Liv's breath hitches in her throat. The stench of decay and stale air permeates the room and she nearly retches. Bile stops in her throat as she pinches her nose.

Looking around, the ancient cabin is in utter disarray. Chairs and tables are destroyed, and splinters are scattered across the floor. She sees scorch marks all over the room's walls but as she looks at the fireplace, there are no traces of embers ever being lit. Pots and vials are shattered across the floor and dried-out spots of what she presumes to have been some potions are splattered around the debris. With each step she takes, the dread further seeps into her soul. No, no, no, please, no, she prays hopelessly as she makes her way to the bedroom.

Her hazel eyes widen as she halts, clinging to the doorframe of the bedroom's entrance. Liv shakes her head in disbelief, soft denial slipping through her lips as she witnesses a horrifying sight.

Laying on the wicker bed is the lifeless body of a man. His beard and hair are a tangled, greasy mess. His hazel eyes are open, their dull gaze fixated on the ceiling. The body of the deceased is bloated, indicating it's been some time since death took place. As she walks closer, Liv sees traces of dark liquid oozing from his mouth. She swallows the bile in her throat. I'm too late, she thinks while sitting beside the body. She doesn't even try to pry into his mind as the soul has moved on and the body is in the process of decomposition.

"Not yet," she hopelessly begs through inconsolable sobs. "Please - "

What was once a proud man, a powerful man, an epitome of strength in her eyes is now another human corpse, another casualty.

"Why you?" she mumbles as tears roll down her cheeks. "Why you, of all people?"

Why did you leave me too?

Agony, pain, disappointment, sorrow, anguish, bitterness, fury - she can't articulate her emotions any longer so she does the only thing that can make her feel a semblance of relief.

She screams.

 

///

 

November 26th, 2016. / 21:58 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The Manor is cold and empty, as it always was.

No Shuuin will ever call the Manor 'home'. However, out of all Shuuin, Mathias spent most of his time at the Manor as he was groomed to take the position of the Shuuin master. He was to be the one to lead them toward a new age. Years of training, developing skills to perfection - all in hopes of inheriting his mother's will and vision. Mathias used to feel so proud to be her heir, her successor.

Then, as if he was woken up from a dream, his pink bubble burst as he examined his life or what was left.

His loyalty to his sister did not come of his own volition. There was a heated argument, followed by a lot of name-calling and stuff being thrown around. Some have spilled tears, and others have spilled blood but in the end, the Drakon siblings found common ground long enough to strike a deal.

In exchange for obeying her every command, Liv promised Mathias and his daughter Nova freedom - freedom from the jujutsu world, freedom from the Shuuin - once the Vow is obsolete. They would be left to live their lives the way they see fit. Otherwise, Mathias would remain a weak link in the Shuuin chain with no true power at his disposal and his daughter would suffer no matter what he did to protect her.

With few options at his disposal at the time, Mathias agreed.

He climbs the narrow staircase and notices how withered the Manor is. Centuries of annual visitation may have kept it from falling apart but not from aging. The Shuuin Manor reflects its struggles through the eras perfectly. If one looks closer, there are scorch markings on the roof above one of the guestrooms, part of the stone wall is caving in, and the woodwork is marred in claw marks and blade indentures. Mathias notices the rust on the handlebars as he reaches the front door of the Manor. He hadn't seen it before.

Pushing the door open, he enters the corridor and takes off his shoes as is customary in Japan. He searches for a pair of slippers in one of the spare bedrooms and grabs a haori. Trodding lazily, he makes his way to the living room, his eyes half-lidded. He knows the floor plan by heart so he makes a beeline to the leather couch, wanting to plop down and sleep as soon as possible. His intention, however, is thwarted by another figure sitting on it. Mathias is certain no one was inside when he entered the Manor. Tove and Rune have a leisurely time in Shinjuku. Tove is explaining the contemporary Japanese culture to her subordinate (blind leading the blind, if Mathias is to be asked about his opinion on the matter). The rest of the Shuuin are abroad in their homes, far away from Tokyo. If there were intruders, he'd have sensed their cursed energy once he walked inside the Manor.

He quickly connects the dots.

"Are you just going to stand there?" she asks, her back still turned to him.

Mathias stares wide-eyed. "You're back?"

Liv looks over her shoulder, hazel green eyes glowing faint crimson. Mathias swallows a lump in his throat. Those eyes still make him a bit on edge but he tries to suppress his shock and anxiety. This is your sister, he reminds himself. You have no reason to fear her.

She sighs, turning back around. "I suppose. Honestly, I hoped no one would be at the Manor."

"You could've left before I came into the living room," he points out. "I couldn't sense your presence at all but you could sense mine, no doubt."

She smirks. "Touche."

He smirks as well.

She clears her throat before pointing toward the kitchen, "I baked some cookies, they're in the jar in the kitchen."

Mathias blinks. A short moment of silence. She then sighs.

"Got something to report?" she says, not looking at him. 

He tries not to scoff.

"Well, most of the clan is questioning your authority," Mathias answers honestly. "Gojo is also running out of excuses to the higher-ups for your absence."

Liv frowns. "The clan won't be a problem anymore."

Mathias grossly disagrees but doesn't voice his opinion outright. "And Gojo? He seems worried."

Taking a deep breath, she leans on her knee for support as she stands, her kimono trailing after her. Mathias notices she's not wearing the clothing he last saw her in. He wonders where she got it from but his train of thought is interrupted as she walks out into the Manor's backyard, her back turned to him the entire time. She halts briefly once on the porch, her visage showered in the moonlight. He finds her mesmerizing in the current setting. Liv has always been a beautiful creature, there's no doubt about that but she always seems to appear most beautiful when she's not trying too hard. Part of her charm, Mathias believes, comes from her effortless ability to be herself - an undiluted, essential expression of self.

But being a Shuuin means hiding and masquerading, which only takes away from her beauty.

"Where is my husband?" she asks, still not looking at him.

Mathias lowers his head. "I had drinks with him before I came to the Manor. I suppose he went home."

Liv hums before taking a deep breath. Although reluctant, she knows that she must meet with Satoru. 

But first -

"Effective immediately," she mutters softly, "Mathias Drakon is relieved of his duties, as promised."

She then looks over her shoulder, hazel eyes gazing upon their twins. It takes him a while to understand what has just come from her mouth. Startled and relieved, Mathias manages to bow in gratitude at least. His head hangs low and a few lonesome tears fall onto the cold floor of the Manor.

Liv doesn't say much else, walking past her brother but not before tapping the spot between his shoulder blades. He understands the gesture as comfort and weeps once she is out of earshot.

Notes:

Hello everyone!

For those of you who have been around for a while, you might notice some changes in this chapter. The initial storyline for this fic was much bigger and more complex, so much so that I struggled with writing it. Liv was becoming overly childish, the other characters were getting ridiculous and the lore was all over the place. I was simply unsatisfied with the way things were progressing. After much thinking, I've decided to re-edit the fic. Several chapters have been deleted and this one has been re-edited with a new storyline. I hope you will like it onward and as always, I welcome constructive criticism!

Chapter 12: Homecoming

March 20th, 2005. / 09:22 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The cold wind still clings to her bones when Liv steps onto the stones of the Manor's staircase. It has been many years since she last set foot in Japan, a ghost in exile, cast out by the very family she was born into. She spent those years on the other side of the world, training under her father, learning not only the mysticism of Norse shamanism but also how to stand as her own woman, untethered by the past.

Her heart is heavy with a strange mixture of bitterness and determination. The memories of being cast out as an unwanted heirloom flood back, the echo of her mother’s sharp voice ringing in her ears: "You are on your own." That cold rejection has haunted her but also hardened her resolve. She has returned to the house she despises and will be heard this time.

As she approaches the front gates of the Shuuin Manor, she notices the familiar, dark silhouette of her mother standing in the doorway, her face unreadable. Sumiye Shuuin, the matriarch, still holds the same poised elegance as she had in Liv's earlier youth, her long, ebony hair flowing like silk, her eyes sharp and calculating. There is no warmth in her gaze, no welcome; just the cold, sharp edge of command.

Many would incision the Shuuin mistress like a cloak-and-dagger type, but to Liv, she appears like an evil queen wielding a bloody cleaver. 

“Leave, child,” Sumiye says, her voice as measured and distant as ever.

Liv clenches her fists at her sides, trying to keep her calm. She never expected this to be easy. The woman in front of her had exiled her with barely a second thought, casting her away for simply asking the questions, like every other child.

“I'm your daughter,” Liv jests, her tone firm. “You could extend some of that motherly love you shower Mathias with to your other child.”

Sumiye quirks a brow. "You've come for a pat on the back, then?"

Liv smirks, cocking her head to the side. "Or, you could get me into Jujutsu High."

Her mother’s expression doesn't change, but there is a subtle tightening around her lips, as though Liv has spoken a forbidden word. "I beg your pardon?"

“I’m not asking, Okaasan," Liv says slowly, taking a step forward. "Make it happen.”

Sumiye’s eyes narrow, her voice low and dangerous. “Know. Your. Place."

Liv smirks. "Oh, but I do."

"The world doesn't bend to your every whim. Do not expect - " Sumiye says slowly.

Liv meets her mother’s gaze with unflinching intensity. “Don't make me repeat myself.”

“Threatening your mistress?” Sumiye muses, her voice colder now, almost mocking.

"Please," Liv scoffs. "You're even less of a mistress than a mother."

Her words seem to cut through the immaculate facade of the mask Sumiye constantly wears.

“You’ve got your uses, though,” Liv's voice is sharp, laced with the conviction that has grown during the years she spent away. “You pull strings. You’re good at that. Do it, or I will find a way myself even if I throw you under the bus.”

To further make her point, she scratches an invisible tattoo behind her eye and mumbles foreign words under her breath. Within moments, a map of strange runes appears on her skin, spreading from her chin, down her neck and arms. For a moment, Sumiye stands silent, her piercing eyes scanning Liv with a mix of admiration and disdain. She recognizes those markings. Foreign and obscure, they were ominous when she saw them for the first time and they are terrifying in person.

"What have you done?" she whispers in disbelief.

Liv's smirk threatens to split her face in half. "I think this is the first time I've seen such an expression on your face. Makes me glad that I'm the cause of it."

Sumiye scowls. "Answer. Me."

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to," Liv responds, eyeing her despondently. "I'm not the weaker party in this conflict any longer. I suggest that you accept that."

If Sumiye knows anything about her daughter, it is that she has an indomitable resolve and even greater academic curiosity, not to mention intelligence. She has no doubts that Liv has already perfected seidr and galdr. Slowly, she exhales, the weight of centuries-old traditions pressing down on her shoulders.

And she is about to break one of them.

Sumiye nods, though her gaze remains impassive. “Very well. I will make the arrangements.”

The weight of those words settles in the air between them, thick with both promise and threat. Nothing is going to stand in her way now.

 

///

 

November 27th, 2016. / 00:11 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

The night in Roppongi is cloaked in the usual haze of neon lights and distant city sounds, but everything feels muted within the confines of a narrow, towering apartment building. A sharp contrast to the pulse of the city, Satoru's apartment is a place of stillness, a temporary refuge from - well, pretty much everything.

A rush of cold air greets him as the elevator door slides open, the familiar chill of his apartment wrapping around him like an old coat. The light is dim, filtered through the tall windows overlooking the city below.

He pauses at the threshold, eyes scanning the room. It is simple; modern, sleek, and functional, just like everything else in his life. A plush couch, an abstract painting he never quite understood, and a coffee table. Everything is in its place - except for Liv.

His shoes hit the hardwood floor with a soft, almost reverent thud, the distinct sound of his return. His steps are slow and deliberate as if he is easing into a space. Despite spending nearly every night in this apartment, he feels uncomfortable. The image of his wedding night haunts him even while awake; the solemn yet endearing moment of domesticity.

Satoru sighs, running a hand through his messy hair.

The bag slides off his shoulder and drops with a soft thud, the contents of his pockets spilling out: a phone, a crumpled receipt from a convenience store, a small vial of something from the mission, the familiar hum of a life built on tasks and responsibilities he didn’t always want. 

Moving toward the kitchen, he flicks on a light, letting the dim glow illuminate the stainless steel appliances and counter. His fridge, typically bare save for a few cans of energy drinks and leftovers from missions, looks especially barren tonight. He opens it anyway, eyes briefly scanning before he shuts it with a soft clink.

No food.

Instead, he drops into the chair at the kitchen table, elbows on the surface, and leans back, staring up at the ceiling.

It's not supposed to be like this.

He's not supposed to care.

Liv has always been a constant in his life, somehow, in some way. Perhaps that is why her disappearance has shaken him more than he’d like to admit.

Satoru closes his eyes for a moment, letting the memories of simpler times roll over him like a wave. He recalls laughter, joy, and hugs. The midnight giggles and watching the sunrise from atop the Tokyo Tower. Among those moments of pure bliss, he remembers their first meeting at the Gojo Estate and their reunion at the Jujutsu High. More laughter, more hugs, more joy.

He scoffs. It feels almost absurd, how little their marriage resembles anything remotely romantic - years of being pushed into and out of each other’s lives by forces beyond their control has created something sterile.

Her disappearance shouldn't be of any concern to him.

He lets out a slow breath and sinks onto the couch. The coolness of the leather seeps into his skin, but it does little to chill the flickering flames of frustration within him. 

The air in the penthouse grows significantly heavier. His fingers press against his temples, hoping to stave off an impending headache.

His moment of respite is interrupted by a loud 'ping' of the elevator. Alarmed, Satoru sits up. He looks at the digital clock on the kitchen counter - well past midnight. No one should be visiting him at this hour, at this place. Rising from his seat, Satoru carefully steps forward, listening to the potential noises in the living room ahead. Nothing can be heard for a while, only the echo of his heartbeat in his ears. Seconds turn into minutes yet nothing is happening. However, Satoru notes a certain presence in his home based on the cursed energy from the living room. It is a woman, based on the silhouette, and not just any woman, for that matter.

Clasping his hands, Satoru teleports to the elevator entrance where Liv Drakon stands like a sentinel, unmoving and proud. Her eyes, still as red as he saw them last, stare at him. The depths of her gaze are profound and mysterious, revealing little to nothing of their owner's thoughts. 

Her eyes sweep across the room before they lay on him. Her gaze flickers, but there is nothing warm about it. Nothing that speaks of reunion or apology.

"Husband," she says softly.

He frowns. "Wife."

Silence follows afterward. In response, Liv tilts her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies him. 

"Am I still welcome?" she asks, her lips curling in a mischievous grin. 

Satoru's gaze is sharp and unwavering. His lips are curled into a small, sardonic smile. She walks into the apartment, her steps deliberate and measured. She isn't here to apologize or to explain herself.

He follows her leisurely walk, almost scoffing at the audacity. Echoes of her footsteps bounce off the naked walls and her long kimono rustles as it trails after her. He sits beside her on the couch while keeping a polite distance between them, making himself comfortable by throwing his arm over the backrest and crossing his legs. He takes a deep breath. Then, he sighs, clearly tired if not exhausted. The night is long and he has work in a few hours.

His eyes are fixed on the city below. Outside, the streets are full of people, moving along with a rhythm he is supposed to share, but instead, he feels like an outsider looking in.

“Mathias told me about the Council,” she murmurs, almost to herself, but Satoru hears it all the same. "I know what you did for me."

He doesn't respond for a while. "I take my vows seriously, you know. Especially when I know breaking them is not a good idea."

"Thank you," she says solemnly, bowing her head.

Satoru looks at her and takes in her appearance. Although she seems presentable, bags hang under her eyes and her lips are chapped from the cold. Her hands, usually soft and manicured, are unkempt. He frowns; she should've just stayed home with him. At least she'd be able to pamper herself.

"Do go on, darling," Liv drawls, giving him a side-eye. 

"I didn't say anything, dear," he shakes his head, not apologetic.

Resisting the urge to groan, she pinches the bridge of her nose instead. Two weeks apart and he's as much of a doofus as she had left him. She chuckles, despite herself.

Touching.

Liv tries to keep her face straight as she scowls at the mirage currently breathing into her ear. Not now. The phantasm doesn't bat an eyelash, however, as she levitates over the backrest of the couch and settles next to her progeny. Liv tries not to look at her, knowing it'll attract Satoru's attention. That will be followed by questions that Liv can't answer just yet.

Tell him or not to tell him, Rei taunts, stretching like a cat as she makes herself comfortable in the corner seat. Poor boy.

Knowing this to be a provocation, Liv controls her response as she focuses on the distant skyscraper. Lights dance uninterrupted as she remains silent, lost in her thoughts. Over the last two weeks, she has witnessed several lifetimes, gruesome and lonesome. Although her perception of those events is like that of a bystander, the memories are from a first-person viewpoint. Not many can watch wars and bloodshed unfurl in front of them, and feel nothing as a consequence. Even Liv, for all her experiences, is still human. 

She doesn't know if she can tell Satoru what she has seen. She doesn't know if the words can cross her lips. The past she believed to be true - the past that all of the Shuuin have regarded as true - is suddenly not. Their tradition and legacy, steeped in generations of practice, is little more than a joke. A fabrication, a makeshift of scraps and bits of memories preserved by those who barely remember the times of old Shuuin.

The life she has tried so hard to attain, the freedom she sought with every fiber of her being is the same cage she has been trying to escape. In the end, it doesn't matter what she does, her future will remain the same. 

Hesitantly, Liv sneaks a peek at her husband sitting comfortably next to her. His eyes are closed; his bandages are long-discarded. Purplish color stains under his eyes, indicating long hours of work and little rest in between. Guilt pokes at the back of her mind as she remembers, once again, his efforts in keeping her disappearance off the radar. 

How am I supposed to tell you that all your efforts are for nothing?

It isn't just the connection to the King of Curses. Their marriage, already arranged under pretense, is becoming even more absurd. The support she promised to her husband is as flimsy as it gets. The Shuuin are a clan of individualistic opportunists, each vying for their interests. None of them are stupid enough to think they can go head-to-head with the likes of Satoru Gojo but they'd rather not affiliate with the man if not needed.

On the other hand, with the rediscovery of the Shuuin origins, keeping Satoru close could be detrimental to their lives. His loyalties to the higher-ups are slim but they are there. He is not a rebel or a deserter. He's still one of them.

I thought he was different.

Liv takes a deep breath as she glances at Rei, whose long locks are floating overhead along with the sleeves of her white kimono. 

He is. It is a weak retort but Liv tries to sound convinced. Of course, the Great Mother scoffs at her attempts. Even dead, the woman is a pain in the ass.

Cowardly, little dragon, Rei muses, fading away.

Murmurs of a whisper echo in her ear as Liv is alone with her husband once more. Frustration bubbles in the pit of her stomach and she tries to swallow it. Pride is a dangerous emotion if left unchecked and the fact that someone as capricious as Rei Shuuin can see through her makes her even angrier. 

Liv hates her pridefulness. She hates that it makes her do things for no other reason but to satisfy her ego. Every flaw of her character, every bad choice she has made, every word spoken before thought through is the effect of her damn pride.

Do one thing that is not for you, Drakon. Yet, even when she tries, facing Satoru in such a manner is revolting. Her entire body protests against it. Indeed, her self-assurance and confidence got her this far. Despite the many naysayers among her kinsmen, Liv trusted Satoru to be her support. Even now, he's patient, waiting for her. His thoughts confirm that notion as well.

She smiles and breaks her own heart. Coward indeed.

"Satoru," she whispers. "Tadaima."

"Okaeri," he scoffs, looking back at Roppongi.

 

///

 

November 27th, 2016. / 10:12 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The wind howls across the backyard. Mathias' gaze sweeps over the landscape. He feels unburdened and unbothered, something he hasn't felt in a long time. No responsibilities, no espionage, no one breathing down his neck about this and that.

He has served the Shuuin faithfully and dutifully. He has aided his sister as he had promised. It is enough, it has to be. Liv has returned, changed. Her eyes are like a mirror image of the Great Mother, haunting and soul-piercing. Whatever his sister has become is no longer his business.

Wanting some fresh air, he steps out onto the patio, his naked feet touching the cold wood flooring. Chills run up his spine as he gets accustomed to the cool. Letting out a breath, he watches a small cloud of mist escape his mouth and disappear just as quickly. His muscles protest against the low temperature, but he pushes against the discomfort. It'll snow soon.

He wants to remember this moment.

The sound of footsteps approaching disrupts his lonesome moment. He doesn't need to look over his shoulder to know who it is. Tove's silhouette forms a shadow in the frozen grass. She is deliberately quiet. She must know something or at least suspect it. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice a mixture of concern and curiosity.

Mathias meets her gaze over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “I should ask you that. Weren't you out with Rune last night?"

Tove nods, her eyes narrowing slightly. "We didn't go overboard. I'm fine."

He musters a smile before looking up. "To answer your question, I'm fine too."

It is the truth, after all. His duty is over. He has fulfilled his role and Liv has made good on her end.

Tove hesitates for a moment before speaking again. Her voice softens, though there is a quiet edge of worry beneath it.

“Herre," she says, uncertain of what else to say.

Mathias chuckles bitterly, his gaze shifting toward the distant horizon. “Don't be like that, Tove. You're the spymaster. Leave that stuff to Rune, she can pull it off much better."

Tove steps closer, her dark purple suit giving her little protection against the weather. She eyes Mathias, taking in his dress or rather, lack thereof. You'll catch a cold.

"I'm Norwegian," he reminds her. "Just like you."

She sighs. "We still dress for the occasion. This time of the year is for shawls and wool hats."

He doesn't respond for a while as he simply stands there. The silence seems to stretch out before him. It is strange, this freedom; he has been a part of the Shuuin for so long, trapped within their world. Freedom isn’t the same as peace and its burden is hefty.

“There's snow in Hokkaido,” he finally says, his voice low and almost lost in the wind. “I should buy Nova some boots. I think she grew out her last pair.”

Tove takes a deep breath. There is a flicker of something in her eyes as she stands next to him on the patio.

"Maybe a jacket, too," she offers, cocking her head to the side.

He smiles as he looks at her with a soft gaze. "The jacket can be a gift from you."

She gives him a final nod, as if accepting his decision, and turns away.

Before she leaves, however, she pauses. She looks back over her shoulder.

“Will you ever return, Mathias?”

He doesn’t answer her. She doesn't linger. The door shuts behind her as he remains alone outside. It's not fair, he knows this but he has to draw the line or he won't be able to let go. Out of all the spies, Tove has been his closest confidante. Liv's blood binded her but shared trials and tribulations bonded the spymaster and the older Drakon over the years. It pains him to push her away, possibly his only friend.

Yet, where he's going, she has no place.

 

///

 

November 27th, 2016. / 11:23 / Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan

 

Yuki has never been a fan of bubble tea. Something about the color of the jelly balls reminds her of seaweed. She still likes the milk tea which she chugs down in gulps before licking her lips in satisfaction.

Taking a look around the buzzing Shinjuku, Yuki notes how things change over time. The last time she visited this place was almost ten years ago yet Shinjuku seems more dense than it used to be. Shops line up too close for comfort and people seem to have no sense of private space. After fifteen minutes of making her way through the mass, Yuki takes the high road, dashing into the rooftops of the skyscrapers overlooking busy Shinjuku.

"Ah," she sighs, smiling. "Much better."

The trip from Kyoto to Tokyo was uneventful but what she heard in Kyoto Jujutsu High paints a sad picture. Out of all the peers in Aoi's school, none stand as impressive to him. On one hand, Yuki knows Aoi is not a reliable source for such matters; hardly anyone impresses that fat-headed oaf. On the other hand, it may be that Kyoto has no talent among its ranks. Both scenarios are not overwhelmingly concerning to Yuki but they require different treatment. Braining through one of them is a hassle; two is a headache.

Yuki sighs again, this time disappointed. No matter how things progress, they only get more time-consuming and bothersome. Why can't the world spin right for once?

She looks up at the sky, her plum-colored eyes squinting due to the brightness. If only things were different, if there weren't curses and sorcerers, perhaps the world could spin properly. A chuckle escapes her throat as she recalls a dear friend saying something along those lines, a long, long time ago.

"Are you trying to change the world too?" she wonders out loud as she pictures the fair-haired woman and her captivating hazel eyes.

Snapping her out of her thoughts is a loud ping of her phone. Fishing out the device, Yuki unlocks it before checking the notifications. Several messages from her contacts, most of them disappointing. Sigh after sigh follow each message as Yuki wonders if her search has been in vain. 

"Insane sorcerers, curse users with useless gadgets," she goes through the messages with half interest. "I asked for dirt but not that - ooh, what's that?"

Although no longer aligned with the Jujutsu High, Yuki remained on speaking terms with some acquaintances. Some of them have similar world views to hers, so they inform her of interesting cases picked up by the school. One in particular is proving more difficult than they anticipated.

"Cursed child," she reads, quirking a brow. "Seriously injured classmates, several Grade Two sorcerers and one Grade One sorcerer. My, what a curious find."

The informant has kept the official records out of the conversation but with a bit of persuasion and digging on her own, Yuki is certain she will find her answers soon. Although a cursed child is not her focus of research, at this point, she'll take anything of note. Beggars can't be choosers.

"But where to start?" she wonders out loud, pursing her tinted lips. "If that kid took down a Grade One sorcerer, the old bags will send Gojo to handle it. They'll get to it before I can. Reaching out to Gojo is also tough at this point, considering he's constantly on the move."

She ponders on the idea of inviting him to meet up in private but that would only color her suspicious in the eyes of the higher-ups. They already hate having to finance her expeditions and research because of regulations regarding Special Grades; colluding with a wannabe pariah could only inflict a deeper dent in her reputation. Heaven knows they've run their mouth on her integrity already.

Then, a lightbulb switches on as an idea crosses her mind. While Satoru Gojo might be out of her reach, his wife is far more approachable. Luckily, Yuki knows where she can find her. 

 

///

 

November 27th, 2016. / 13:00 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido Prefecture, Japan

 

Inside the stark, gray walls of the underground fortress, twelve-year-old Nova sits on a worn wooden chair, her small hands resting in her lap, fingers twitching with the faintest unease. The room is plain, with no decorations, no personal belongings, nothing to give a hint of the vibrant soul that lies within. It is as though they are trying to contain her, to suppress something that could not be tamed, and they succeeded in making everything around her cold and distant.

Nova’s eyes, a sharp shade of green, flicker to the corner of the room, where an old grandfather clock ticks, its hands moving as expected. She can feel the pull of it, the sense that time flows differently for her than it does for the rest of the world. Her cursed technique has been a constant burden, a storm that rages inside her, impossible to control.

She looks down at her hands. There are scars there, remnants of the countless times her power had spiraled out of control. She could pause the world around her, or accelerate time without warning or so her wardens hypothesize. She doesn't know the true extent of her technique, only that it can distort time. According to her father, she caused a small explosion as a child, as a result of her having a temper tantrum. It was then that he realized that her emotions were intrinsically tied to her cursed technique.

That was nearly six years ago. For six years, Nova has been kept prisoner - or kept safe, according to her father - deep within the Hokkaido's territory. Away from any form of civilization, companionship, or connection. Even her family, the Shuuin, are not allowed to contact her. Her only insight into the outside world is her father and her teachers, the Ainu sorcerers closely allied with her aunt, the mistress of the Shuuin.

Needless to say, Nova desires to escape this place.

The small cell she occupies, her room, feels more like a coffin than a room. A simple bed, a desk, and a solitary window that frames only an endless expanse of white snow.

Each day is the same routine. She wakes up to the sound of a bell tolling in the distance, signaling the start of another monotonous cycle. The air is always cold, even inside the center, and she has grown accustomed to the chill that has seeped into her bones. Still, Nova moves with purpose, making her bed with practiced precision, folding her blankets, and arranging her few belongings in a neat row.

Her mornings are spent in the same sterile silence. Meals are brought to her by an Ainu sorcerer, one of the many assigned to watch over her. The sorcerer, an older woman with a face as stern as the mountains themselves, rarely speaks. She delivers the food in silence and stands vigil by the door, watching her with a mix of wariness and pity. Nova has never spoken to her either, though she always offers a smile as bright as the sun.

Her meals are simple: rice, fish, vegetables. Nutritious but unremarkable. She eats each bite nonetheless, savoring it as though it is a feast. She often wonders if the Ainu sorcerers know how much she yearns for something more than just this endless monotony. Something to break the cycle of isolation and fear.

After eating, Nova is allowed a few hours of freedom, though it is freedom within carefully controlled boundaries. She can read her books, mostly stories of heroes and distant lands, or practice her calligraphy, a skill her father had once taught her before he was summoned to Tokyo by her aunt. But even these small luxuries come with strings attached. The moment her powers begin to stir - if she grows even the slightest bit agitated - an Ainu sorcerer would step in and remind her to "calm herself." A gentle reprimand, but one that sends a sharp pang of shame through her chest.

Every moment of Nova’s life is a delicate balancing act. She is forced to suppress her abilities, to live in constant fear of what might happen if she lets it slip. The problem isn't her lack of control; with proper training, she could master it eventually. However, in one thousand years of Shuuin history, there had never been another user of Timeless. Unless she miraculously discovers a way to control it, she's bound to this center and dependent on Ainu society to keep her in check.

She is alone; no friends here, no companions to share her dreams or fears with. People fear her. Even the Ainu sorcerers, despite their solemn duties, can't shake the deep unease that creeps into their hearts whenever she is near.

Hope is the only thing she holds onto.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door, soft and deliberate, a reminder that the Ainu are always watching. As always, she rolls her eyes, looking outside her small window.

"Nova, it's time," a voice calls from the other side.

It is Nori, one of the Ainu sorcerers assigned to her care. Nova knows him well by now; kind, but distant. His eyes always hold a certain wariness around her, as if she might break free of her restraints at any moment. She traces the faint remnants of warding spells placed in her room. They're intricate, like the finest lace. She's been told her aunt placed them personally upon her 'move'.

She doesn't respond immediately. There is no point. She has never had a choice, not really. Every part of her life has been dictated by Ainu and her father - her training, her routine, even her meals. She has learned to recognize the rhythm of it all. Every morning, they would take her for physical exercises, a few minutes of unremarkable stretching, and moving to keep her from growing weak. After that, a barrage of mental tasks: puzzles, readings, or instruction on various techniques of control. As though there is any hope for control when her curse is something wild, untamable.

The door creaks open, and Nori enters, dressed in the simple grey outfit, typically worn by the employees of this forsaken place. His expression softens when he sees her, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. As usual.

"Today, we will practice again," he says, motioning to the table where several intricate, rune-etched objects lie.

Nova’s stomach twists with the familiar sense of dread. This is how it starts - the promise of control, the failed attempt at becoming anything other than what she is. It is never enough.

"Do we have to?" Nova asks quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

It isn’t defiance; it is exhaustion.

Nori pauses, glancing down at her, his brow furrowing. "You know why we do this. You know what will happen if you don't train."

The words sting, but she doesn’t argue. She has no desire to cause anyone harm, yet she can feel the latent danger within her, always threatening to break free. Every moment she is left alone with her power is a ticking bomb. They have tried everything: meditation, control exercises, even binding seals. Nothing can curb the Timeless. And so, each day, she is put through this ritual, like a dog being trained to sit and stay. It is the only way they know how to keep the chaos at bay.

It is the only way she can live.

Sighing softly, Nova rises from her chair and walks over to the table, taking her place as instructed. Her small body seems out of place among the adult-sized equipment, but she has long since learned the positions she needs to take, and the way she is supposed to behave.

Nori places his hand on her shoulder, his voice low. "Focus, Nova. You must concentrate."

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, attempting to clear her mind. As expected, nightmares dance within her view. As always, closed eyes bring nothing but terror. She remembers her failings, her lapses in control and she can feel the pressure mounting within her, the storm building behind her eyelids. The air around her grows thick and heavy with the weight of her curse. She can sense the distortion of time, the flickering of seconds into minutes and back again, twisting, stretching. The very thing that is supposed to bend to her will is suddenly twisting randomly as if rejecting her presence.

The objects on the table begin to tremble, vibrating softly as the air grows tense. Nova’s chest tightens. The slip, the moment where her focus will eventually break, and everything will freeze, is close. Nori steps back, his eyes trained on her, calculating.

"Now," he says.

Nova clenches her fists, trying to maintain control. She is focused, trying to lock everything into place. As usual, the power surges, and time around her doesn’t stop, but it bends, and stretches. The objects on the table slow down, their movements lingering unnaturally. The light through the window flickers, as if even the day itself doesn’t know how to move properly around her.

"Stop," Nori commands sharply, but it is too late.

She feels the world holding its breath, each second drawn out unnaturally long - a few seconds into minutes. The feeling of distortion churns in her stomach, but she doesn't dare to open her eyes. Not until it is over.

Then, with a soft crack like the breaking of glass, the tension is released. Time resumes. The objects settle, and the light outside the window returns to its normal, slow arc across the sky.

Nova lets out a shaky breath, her body trembling slightly from the effort.

"You did well," Nori says, though his voice is far from encouraging.

It is as if he is simply stating a fact but Nova doesn’t hear the praise in his tone. The unspoken truth rings in his words; you did well, but it’s still not enough.

For a brief moment, she allows herself to close her eyes, just to breathe without the constant pressure of time strangling her. Unfortunately, the silence is fleeting. She can hear Nori’s footsteps retreating, the sound of the door sliding shut behind him.

She is alone again.

In the quiet, Nova wonders what it would be like to feel normal. To walk outside without the crushing weight of her curse. To run without the fear that the world might freeze, age, or skip ahead without her consent.

She wonders if there is another kind of existence for her, where she runs among the trees and fields of flowers. In her dreams, she sees cities and ports, and people and not this place - the cold, gray walls, the endless exercises, the suffocating routine. The cursed technique that will never let her escape.

In the distance, she can hear the faint sound of the grandfather clock ticking still, its hands moving forward. Time flows ever onward, but for Nova, it never will - not truly.

Not until she can find a way to control it.

Chapter 13: Reflection In Mirage

May 5th, 2006. / 11:12 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Summer used to be Satoru's least favorite time of the year.

Although Kyoto is relatively bearable in the summer, Tokyo is not known for its comfortable weather. It is always humid and too hot, at times unbearable. He often ponders returning to Kyoto, to the Gojo Estate. Suguru is not there, though, he'd usually reason and note how he might not be able to invite his best friend over. Hence, this is the second summer he spends in Tokyo - specifically, at Jujutsu High.

Tucked away high into the mountains and forests, the school grounds are more forgiving in summer temperatures. The abundance of shade and calm wind make the humidity comfortable. Satoru enjoys training early in the morning, before the midday heat. This requires him to wake up early, often at small hours when most people wouldn't even stir in their sleep. 

Curiously, Liv has become an early bird in the last few weeks, accompanying him to the training grounds. She's not a student, officially, but she has a room on campus for convenience. Her training is handled exclusively by Masamichi and as far as Satoru can tell, her curriculum is limited to cursed energy control and defensive charms. 

Satoru doesn't like butting in on her business; she's never been one to share anyway. He noticed something must be amiss in her family life when she stopped visiting the Gojo Estate some years ago. Again, he never questioned her about it. She still visited him, albeit rarely and far between. Then, sometime before his twelfth birthday, she had disappeared. 

Until last year, that is, when he saw her sitting in the school's courtyard.

He is not complaining, though. Part of him is excited to have her around, despite her being a pacifist or so she likes to claim.

Liv stands atop the cliff overlooking the training grounds, watching Satoru as he moves effortlessly through his drills. His silver hair catches the light as he spins and flips through the air, each movement fluid and precise, as though he were a force of nature rather than a mere human being. His relaxed grin is ever-present, even as his Limitless bends reality around him, sending waves of cursed energy that ripple and distort the air. 

Liv can’t help but smile softly at the sight before turning her attention back to the humble assortment she’s set up nearby. The plate of sweets she made for him is perfectly arranged: small pastries filled with delicate cream, a few cookies decorated with colorful icing, and a warm pot of tea to accompany it all. She can already imagine the pleased look on his face when he tastes them, his usual playful arrogance turning into a rare, genuine smile of appreciation. It’s rare moments like this that she cherishes the most when his time is hers. 

Satoru finishes his latest set, landing lightly on the ground and dusting his hands off as he spots her. His grin widens.

"You’re still here?" he calls out, voice teasing, but there's an underlying warmth there.

He wasn't always like this; lighthearted, always ready with a joke. As a young boy, he was gloomy and detached, and sometimes cruel and rude. Liv likes the change, even though she's not the reason for it.

"Your questions are becoming superfluous," Liv replies, crossing her arms as she studies him for a moment, her hazel eyes narrowing with a playful glint. "Tired already? Shocking."

Satoru raises an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by her challenge. "Tired? Nah, but I thought you'd get bored of sitting there like a duck."

He moves toward her, his steps easy, his eyes never leaving her as he reaches the cliffside. He looks at the sweets she made, and then back to her. His grin turns into a more genuine smile, something softer, almost affectionate. How odd, she notes inwardly, recalling a time when such an expression barely appeared on his face.

"You made these for me?" he asks, the teasing tone in his voice replaced with something a little more sincere.

Liv nods, her smile small but warm. "Thought you could use some sugar after working up a sweat. It's a rare occurrence to see you working so hard."

Satoru chuckles. "I’m always working hard, Liv. You know that."

He then sits down next to her, his legs sprawled out comfortably as he grabs a pastry and takes a bite. Liv watches him, enjoying the moment they share. He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste. She is glad to see him like this; as a boy who enjoys the little things, who indulges in the comfort of good food and the company of a comrade.

Satoru finishes the pastry in record time, then looks up at her, his eyes twinkling with the same playful energy. She likes it when his eyes twinkle.

"You know," he says, leaning back on his arms, "you're pretty good at this. I’ve always said you have the potential to be a top-tier chef. Maybe I should take you on as my personal cook."

Liv smirks, rolling her eyes. "I don’t think I want you anywhere near my kitchen." 

He laughs, leaning forward, the mischief never far from his face. "If you say so but I stand behind what I said. You are good at this."

He picks up another pastry, holding it out to her. "Wanna share some?"

Liv hesitates for a moment, her gaze meeting his. Satoru doesn't share; he's known for being stingy. Even with her, he rarely offers cookies or bonbons. She can't help but scoff. She knows it’s silly, this unspoken back-and-forth between them. They’ve known each other for so long and yet still manage to surprise one another, even in the smallest of ways. 

"Look at you," she says, taking the pastry from him. "Guess you can be a gentleman."

Satoru watches her as she takes a bite. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he looks at her speaks volumes. There’s a familiarity in their interactions, a comfort that goes beyond just being friends. It’s the kind of bond built on years of shared history, the kind that makes you feel both safe and unsettled all at once. Because with Satoru, it’s never simple. It’s always more - more than words, more than actions.

The two of them sit in comfortable silence for a while, savoring the pastries, the quiet of the moment, and the weight of the world that, for just a few moments, feels a little less heavy.

Liv knows this won’t last. She knows the clock is always ticking, always running out of time. Satoru has a future carved out for him, and she has her own path, one that leads her back to the life taken from her. The past looms over them, always in the background, always threatening to creep into their conversations, their shared moments.

She merely wishes to collect more of these precious memories for a while longer.

Satoru finishes his sweets first, licking his fingers with that carefree, almost boyish smile. "That hit the spot."

He then stands up and stretches. "I could use a nap, though. What do you think?"

Liv’s gaze follows him as he moves. "I think it's pointless now. Not with all that sugar in your veins."

Satoru winks, his grin returning as he stretches one last time. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're being coy."

"Luckily, you know better," she counters, giving him a pat on his left shin. "Come on, don't be lazy now."

He lingers still, his gaze hiding uncertain thoughts. She hears them but she doesn't understand it. As she watches him go, the soft weight of her own uncertain thoughts and feelings creep into the corners of her heart. Maybe she’ll never say it out loud or even admit it to herself. 

But those eyes - she wants to gaze upon them forever.

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 06:45 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

It is early; too early when Satoru gets ready for the day ahead. Liv is already awake, though her eyes are still heavy from the restless sleep. Dreams of past happiness permeate her slumber and she finds it unsettling, especially considering that the subject of her dreams is the man she shares a life with. Realizing sleep is a luxury she will not enjoy this day, she notes how she might as well return to the Manor a bit earlier. Mathias should be up as well. She grumbles as she rubs her eyes before opening them. Looking around, she notices that she's not in the living room. She lies in bed, the sheets tangled around her legs.

She doesn't remember exactly when she fell asleep. They were still in the living room, watching Roppongi in blissful silence while she wrestled with the image of her ancestor pestering her.

Yet, she's in Satoru's room, in his bed. She reaches with her hand to the opposite side of the bed. The spot next to her is cold; he hasn't slept next to her and if he did, it's been a while since he woke up.

Meanwhile, her husband returns to his room, shirtless, freshly out of the shower. She, on the other hand, is still in her tracks while her purple kimono is hung neatly on a rack nearby. I didn't know he had one of those here, she muses curiously. Satoru doesn’t say anything at first, his presence filling the room as he pulls out his uniform from the wardrobe. His hair is as untamed as always and there is a clear sign of lingering slumber in his droopy eyes.

Liv chuckles at the scene. "Do you always wake up this early?"

He looks at her reflection in the mirror, noting her lopsided grin. 

"Do you always stare at half-naked men so shamelessly?" he asks, matching her expression with his own.

She rolls her eyes. "Not my fault that I'm in your bed. Speaking of which, why am I here?"

He doesn't answer immediately. She hears his thoughts, loud but uncertain. It seems her return has caught him unprepared if not off guard.

Finally, he hums, "My wife should sleep in my bed."

"Oh, spare me the theatricality," she scoffs.

At this, he chuckles. "Go back to sleep. The bed is comfy."

"The bed is comfy," she agrees, running her hand across the sheets. "However, I'm supposed to be at the Manor soon. Mathias is waiting for me. We have work to do."

"Plotting something again?" he quips, looking over his shoulder.

She smirks. "I guess you could say that."

"In that case," he says while stretching his neck, his voice rough from sleep but still carrying that teasing lilt, "fill me in on the gossip over a coffee?"

Liv raises an eyebrow at him, leaning against the headboard. "No breakfast in bed?"

"Sure, when I get a kiss goodbye," he rolls his eyes while buttoning up his pants. 

"How romantic," she drawls, pushing herself off the mattress. "Two cubes?"

He watches her walk around the bed, taking her kimono. "Make it three. It's gonna be a long day."

She hums in agreement and pats him on his shoulder before leaving the room. She shuffles her feet as she strolls toward the kitchen. Once there, she takes out the instant coffee, along with sugar cubes of which there is an overwhelming amount. She shakes her head, sighing. 

Soon enough, Satoru joins her in the kitchen, dressed in his uniform save for the bandages around his eyes. He holds the long cotton fabric over his forearm while combing through his hair with his fingers.

"Why don't you sell this place?" she asks suddenly. "Isn't it inconvenient to travel to and from the campus all the time with your schedule?"

He yawns, nodding in affirmation. "It is but I bought this place as a wedding gift."

Liv scoffs. "Showoff."

"Well, it's nice and it comes in handy when I want some privacy," he quips. "The dorm room has thin walls and too many eyes prying in."

"Still, it's needless to own such a luxurious place if you barely spend any time here," she notes solemnly. "If you want privacy, you can always visit the Manor."

He quirks a brow. "I can?"

Liv smiles softly. "Of course."

"Huh," he muses. "That's nice of you."

She huffs but says nothing else on the matter.

"So, what bothers the great teacher today?" she asks while measuring the coffee with a spoon. 

Satoru takes the bandage and starts wrapping it around his head. "Cursed child."

Liv quirks a brow. "Half, if not all of your students are cursed children."

"This one is a bit different," he sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "Remember when your brother and I arrived late the day we were supposed to meet up with that old hag?"

As the kettle whistles under pressure, Liv nods. "Yeah, something about a curse attack on a school. The higher-ups got anxious all of a sudden."

"For a good reason this time," Satoru says, watching as she pours the boiling water over coffee grounds. "We've yet to bring in the perpetrator."

"And you think you'll be deployed today," she finishes for him, reaching for sugar cubes. "That doesn't explain the frown on your face."

Satoru chuckles. "I'm not frowning."

She gives him a knowing look, one that silently speaks volumes of her ability to hear his thoughts. Her lack of comment is appreciated in return.

He sighs in defeat. "It's a hunch, I guess. Something smells fishy. Almost as fishy as the fact your left hand is fidgeting."

She looks down, noticing the fingertips on her left hand rapping against the alabaster. The irony is not lost on her; she can hear his mind but he can see through her. Taking a deep breath, she hands him his mug while nursing her own.

"Well?" he asks, taking a sip. 

She hesitates. "Mathias is leaving."

Satoru says nothing at first. "Like, on vacation?"

"A bit more permanently," she responds, sipping her coffee. "Hokkaido and after that, who knows."

"Why so suddenly?" he asks, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

"It was a deal we made, years ago," she explains, avoiding his shrouded gaze. "I promised to let him do as he pleases if he helps me revoke the Vow."

"So, that's what you've been up to for today?" Satoru asks, his tone accusative. "It would've been nice to have known in advance if we'd be losing our only ally in the Council so soon."

Liv shrugs, her gaze cool but not unfriendly. Despite the lingering guilt festering in her heart, she is aware of the delicate balance between bitterness and necessity in this relationship.

"This was the plan from the beginning, Satoru," she says, her voice sharper now. "I was always meant to take his place on the Council."

He snorts. "So he can chill in Hokkaido?"

Her eyes flash for just a moment, but she holds his gaze steadily, her lips curling into a wry smile. "So he can raise his daughter in Hokkaido."

Satoru raises an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. 

"It's a complicated matter, not something I can explain in the short amount of time we have," she continues. "All you need to know is that he will leave and I will take his place."

He stares at her for a moment, that playful grin still tugging at his lips. "You're one complicated woman."

Liv doesn’t answer immediately, instead mirroring his pose. "Not really. I run by a simple logic - keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

Satoru chuckles again, his tone light and teasing as he sets down his mug. "I see. So, which am I? Enemy or friend?"

Liv smirks, her gaze cool but sharp as she watches him move around the room. "You are my husband."

His expression falters just for a second, barely noticeable, but Liv catches it. He doesn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to adjust his jacket one last time before reaching for his bag. As he settles it on his shoulder, he leans down, kissing her cheek. It is a brief touch, barely a second-worth but Liv feels its warmth all the same.

"I’m off," he says, heading toward the door. "See ya'." 

Liv stares at him for a beat, then shakes her head, her smile tight. "Everything will be fine, husband."

Satoru pauses just as he reaches the door, his back still to her. He hesitates for a moment longer before pressing the call button. She knows he’s smiling, even though she can't see it. Soon, the door rings and then opens.

"I'll take your word for it, darling."

And just like that, he’s gone, slipping out the door without another word. 

Liv sets her mug down, sighing. She lets the silence stew around her for a moment, breathing in the lingering warmth of the space they share. They live parallel lives, orbiting one another but never quite intersecting in a way that feels right.

She wonders if they ever will.

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 08:38 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru stands before the Council's headquarters. The view outside is just as unremarkable as ever, sprawling, with the gray sky reflecting the monotony of their world. It’s a quiet morning, the kind where nothing feels pressing, except for the weight he feels in the air. 

A sharp knock at the door brings him back to the present. It’s Masamichi, his usual stone-faced expression betraying nothing, yet there’s something in his eyes; a flicker of concern that doesn’t belong in this space.

“Come in,” Masamichi says, his voice low but firm.

He doesn’t wait for a response, simply turning on his heel and motioning for Satoru to follow.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. He’s used to this. The higher-ups can’t go long without pulling him into some mess or other, and no matter how much he complains, he knows this comes with the territory. Still, there’s something about Masamichi’s demeanor that’s different this time. He's more cautious, as though this mission is far from routine.

And in truth, it is.

The two men make their way down the hall, their footsteps echoing against the stark walls. Satoru adjusts his bandages, feeling a strange weight settle over his shoulders. The air is thick with unspoken tension.

Yuta Okkotsu - the name that has been circulating for weeks. Satoru has heard the stories, like everybody else and their mother. He knows why he's the one being summoned. After all, he’s dealt with problematic cases before so it is expected that the old farts turn to him when every other option fails.

As they enter, Satoru is met with the cold, hard gaze of the higher-ups seated behind shogi screens. They’re a familiar, unpleasant sight; self-important, cautious, and always operating under a strict sense of hierarchy that Satoru has never cared much for.

"Gojo," one of them starts, her voice as sharp as the thin glasses perched on her nose. "We’ve assigned you a new mission. Yuta Okkotsu."

Satoru doesn’t react immediately, though his fingers twitch with the subtle urge to punch something, anything. Could you not make me kill a child?

"This is beyond anything we've seen in documented history," the same voice continues, her tone grave. "We have no idea what this is and it’s growing at an alarming rate. We’ve been keeping him under observation, but his condition is worsening. You need to bring him under control."

Satoru raises an eyebrow, but his posture remains casual.

“What’s the catch?” he asks, his voice deliberately flippant.

The higher-ups exchange glances, and it’s Masamichi who speaks next, his voice deeper than usual.

“It’s not just about damage control,” he adds, his expression darkening. “Okkotsu’s cursed energy is volatile. The sorcerers who've dealt with him can't determine if it is him or if the source of his power lies in the curse accompanying him. In any case, he has the potential to cause mass destruction if his power continues to grow unchecked. Worse still, we are fairly certain there’s a binding vow involved.”

The room falls into silence for a moment. Satoru thinks of his wife briefly. His fingers itch again, but he keeps his cool.

“A vow? Who bound him?” Satoru asks, his voice low, though his curiosity is piqued.

Masamichi glances at the higher-ups, but they remain silent, as though the answer to that question is something they’d rather not reveal.

After a beat, he finally speaks again, his voice laced with warning, “We don’t know exactly but what we do know is that this vow is tied to his cursed energy. It’s part of what’s driving him into madness. There are rumors that it could even lead to irreversible damage to the entire region if he’s pushed too far.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow at that, his usual cocky grin still hovering at the edge of his mouth. "I see. And you want me to babysit him? Control his curse before he causes a disaster?"

“More than that,” the higher-up continues, leaning forward slightly as if trying to gauge Satoru’s reaction. “If he can't be reasoned with or imprisoned, he must be eliminated. You need to handle this carefully, Gojo.”

Satoru’s grin falters just a fraction at that, but he quickly recovers, his tone more serious than usual. “Don't worry, I’ll handle it.”

Masamichi’s gaze never leaves him, and there’s something in his expression that makes Satoru pause. It’s not fear - Masamichi doesn’t do fear - but it’s concern. Satoru knows his teacher so when something isn't right, it shows on the principal's face plainly.

"Satoru, this isn't just another child with a strong cursed technique. Yuta Okkotsu is a ticking time bomb. Handle this with caution. And, most importantly," Masamichi hesitates, then looks Satoru dead in the eye, his voice grim, "Don't underestimate him."

Satoru meets his gaze and nods slowly, the weight of the warning sinking in. He’s used to being the strongest, used to charging in without a second thought, but something in Masamichi's tone makes him reconsider his usual approach.

“Got ya',” Satoru replies, his voice steady.

"At ease," one of the higher-ups announces with a stern tone. "You may go."

With that, the meeting ends. The higher-ups say nothing more, their eyes now on the paperwork in front of them, as though they expect Satoru to simply handle the rest on his own.

Satoru exits the room with Masamichi at his side, the quiet weight of the mission settling in. There’s a storm coming, and Yuta Okkotsu is at the center of it.

"You seem more relaxed today," his teacher notes offhandedly. "That cloud of doom and gloom over your head seems to be gone."

Ignoring that he's been acting outside his usual front and that it was noticed, Satoru merely laughs at Masamichi's remark. "What are you talking about? I'm a ray of sunshine all the time."

"Don't act cute with me, boy," Masamichi says, his tone lacking condescending malice. "I was married once, too. It's hard for men to be separated from their partners, be it for days or months."

Satoru halts his step, his smile slightly less radiant. "Sensei - "

"I know, I know," Masamichi sighs, waving him off. "You never were the type to talk about her or whatever it is between you. I merely wanted to say that you are different when she's around."

"You make it sound like I'm some lovesick puppy," Satoru retorts with a slight sarcasm. 

The older man gives him a once-over and scoffs. "You've been moping for two weeks."

"I was not - " the white-haired sorcerer protests, his voice unusually high before he clears his throat, repeating himself with a more detached tone, "I was not moping."

Masamichi's smirk is wide as he counters, "But you were worried."

Satoru doesn't deny nor confirm these allegations. He merely looks away, refusing to entertain Masamichi's attempt at goading him. Even as the old man laughs in victory, his student remains steadfastly stubborn. Either affection or habit makes Masamichi reach out and pat Satoru's head. He may have grown over the years but in Masamichi's eyes, Satoru is still just one of his kids.

"Take it from me," he mutters softly, letting his fingers rustle through the messy white locks. "If you have something to tell her, just tell her."

It doesn't take a genius to understand what the man meant to say. With a sigh, Satoru looks over his shoulder, expecting to see a gloating grin. Instead, he sees his teacher glancing at him with unusual softness, something he rarely had a chance to witness, especially in the last few years. 

"I don't know how to talk to her anymore," he suddenly confesses.

Masamichi presses her lips. "To be frank, I don't know how to talk to her either. On the other hand, you've got a bigger chance of success."

Satoru's lip curls as he stares at the old man in confusion. "What makes you say that?"

Masamichi cocks his head to the side. "Well, you married her."

The observation makes Satoru laugh wholeheartedly. 

As if on cue, the said woman appears in front of the headquarters along with her brother. Liv is wearing a simple all-black ensemble, including a turtleneck, pants, and dress shoes. Over it, she wears her purple kimono. Mathias is wearing the Shuuin's signature purple suit with a red spider lily motif embroidered on his left breast. Standing side-by-side, their resemblance is undeniable. However, Satoru notes a difference in their bearing. Mathias, who was groomed as heir for most of his formative years, walks like a man tired of worldly affairs. Oddly enough, he reminds Satoru of Nanami. Liv, on the other hand, has the presence of royalty despite spending nearly the entirety of her life as a bohemian. She walks as if she owns the place and given their conversation merely a few hours ago, Satoru reckons she's feeling as much.

The siblings are seemingly in the middle of a conversation when they notice Masamichi and Satoru. All talk ceases as they approach the two men, offering a curt bow as a greeting. Masamichi returns the gesture, nodding his head while Satoru stuffs his hands inside his pockets.

"Principal Yaga," Mathias says with a smile which falls slightly when he turns his attention to his brother-in-law, "Gojo."

His flat tone motivates Satoru to be even more obnoxious. "Is that all? How about 'Great Gojo' or 'Gojo-sensei'? I'd be down for 'brother' too if you're feeling that cordial."

Mathias remains poignantly silent, glaring at the white-haired manace. Liv sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before mustering a smile.

"Sensei, forgive this juvenile display," she says, ignoring the glares of disbelief directed at her. "It is ingrained in their nature."

Masamichi chuckles, shaking his head. "I've noticed. On a more serious note, you appear to be good."

Liv picks up on the question mark in his statement. She nods in response. 

The principal hums before turning to Satoru, "I have work so if you'll excuse me."

He offers another curt nod to both Mathias and Liv, while only humming at Satoru who smiles in return. The three adults bid him farewell and watch as he retreats to his office. It is only once Masamichi is nowhere to be seen that Mathias speaks up.

"Time to cause some mayhem," he says casually, glancing at his sister. "This is your area of expertise."

Liv, in turn, glances at her husband, saying, "I did learn from the best."

Her smile, despite being subtle, almost nonexistent, doesn't go unnoticed by her husband. Satoru notes that their blatant claim at mischief isn't just for show; they expect trouble. He agrees with them; the Council made it clear when he and Liv asked for their permission to marry.

If we deem your actions deceitful at any point after the wedding, you will be brought in before the Council as traitors and treated as such.

He calls out to his wife, just as she's about to enter the building. Her hazel eyes gaze at him in surprise, and he flashes a smile at her.

"Join me after you finish with the geezers," he says.

She smiles that radiant smile of hers and nods in agreement before turning on her heel. Within seconds, she disappears behind the door.

The last thing he sees is a field of violet.

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 09:00 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Time moves slowly as Tove and Rune observe the headquarters with bated breath.

Every second moves slower than the one before. The spymaster is especially tense as she expects trouble. Mathias and her mistress hardly spoke a word on the matter before they dashed out of the Manor and straight over here. Not a word was uttered during the car ride. Before they ascended the staircase to the school grounds, Liv ordered Tove and Rune to remain cloaked by talismans several paces from the Council chamber.

The talismans will last for approximately half an hour. Just enough time, Liv said in an unknown context.

On the other hand, Rune behaves as if this is just another day of a Shuuin spy. She is squatting on the ground, hugging her knees while staring at the building ahead with little interest. An occasional yawn can be heard from the young redhead, usually followed by a hum and a slap of her lips. 

They don't speak and Rune doesn't dare speak while the charm is in effect. Not only would it reveal them but it would cause an alarm to sound off across campus - a cautionary measure set in place to detect foreign cursed energy residuals not registered with the school administration.

Nonetheless, Tove picks up on the fat silence. Rune is curious about their mission and what it truly means for them to be here, undercover, unnoticed by whatever means necessary. 

Every second moves slower than the one before. The spymaster is fidgety, very unlike herself. Yet, the circumstances are dire and she'd rather be anywhere else but here. Looking at her second-in-command, she wishes for Rune to be anywhere else but here. Whatever this is, whatever game their mistress is playing, is outside their scope of understanding or skill.

Rune wonders if their mistress has gone bonkers. After the consumption, she has simply changed. Her cursed energy is not volatile but it is ominous, almost as suffocating as that of her husband. Her presence is more or less the same, but her words are even more confusing as if she's struggling to express herself. Whatever is going in that noggin of hers, it is not good and Rune reckons that their troubles are merely on the horizon.

Fifteen minutes later, the spies notice Mathias leave the building first. Liv is evidently absent. However, his expression reveals no distress. In fact, he appears relieved. His eyes scan the perimeters before his gaze meets Tove's. The spymaster figures he must've heard her thoughts, despite the distance.

The more agitated the mind, the louder it is.

The Inner Eye of the Shuuin is truly a terrifying, if underestimated ability.

Within a few long steps, Mathias hides in the same shrubbery serving as cover for the two spies. He smiles, very unusually for himself.

"It's done," he whispers. "Time to go."

He doesn't wait for their reply, knowing he won't get it anyway. Instead, he takes the lead and heads for the tori gate at the top of the long staircase. The moment they pass through it, they're outside the school's barrier and safe from unwanted eyes.

Yet, Tove can't shake off the feeling of dread creeping into her heart.

Aware of her lingering tension, Mathias hums softly. "It will be fine, Tove."

When that doesn't ease her worry but only exacerbates it, he clarifies further, "She will give them what they want."

Needless to say, Tove is still worried and Rune is more confused than ever.

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 09:27 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The morning haze lingers outside Jujutsu High’s training hall, but inside, the air is electric with energy. The students are already gathered, awaiting Satoru's class. Kinji lounges on his chair, tossing a small coin into the air and catching it as he glances idly at Kirara, who sits cross-legged and perfectly still as if awaiting the calm before the storm.

Satoru is standing at the front of the room, seemingly distracted, his fingers drumming on the chalkboard as he ruminates over something. The boys who've been giving him a weird eye for the last twelve minutes - more, if you count the eight minutes they were staring at the door, waiting for their teacher to arrive - are glancing at each other, exchanging weird looks. 

Kirara nods his head in Satoru's direction, silently asking Kinji for an opinion. The bulkier boy shrugs his shoulders and curls his lip, clearly oblivious to the whole situation.

"Alright, class," Satoru finally says, pulling his attention back to the students. "Today, we’re talking about the diversity of jujutsu techniques."

He begins to scribble on the board with chalk. It doesn't suit him and he doesn't like the feel of it under his fingertips.

"Most of you are familiar with the basics of cursed techniques," he explains. "The innate techniques, the domain expansion, the barriers. Do you know about the other techniques that exist around the world, outside of our little bubble here in Japan?"

Kinji raises an eyebrow, looking a bit skeptical. "There’s more than just the usual stuff we’ve been learning?"

Satoru grins, his usual carefree charm shining. "Exactly. You see, curses can theoretically develop anywhere so long as the cursed energy deposit is dense. The way curses manifest in Europe, Africa, or South America, for example, has shaped the types of techniques developed in those regions. It’s not all about flashy power and destructive force. Some techniques focus on subtlety. Others rely on rituals, or knowledge passed down through centuries. Some abilities are taught, not necessarily acquired through bloodlines like here in Japan."

He points to the chalkboard, which is now covered in a series of symbols and runes. "This is just a glimpse into some of the more obscure methods of dealing with curses. You’ve got your basic sorcerer techniques, but in cultures like Scandinavia, they’ve developed techniques called seidr and galdr."

The students exchange confused glances, clearly unfamiliar with the terms. Satoru notes how he must've had a similar reaction when he was their age and hearing Liv speak of the esoteric knowledge for the first time.

"Sei-d-r?" Kinji asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Is that something the vikings used?"

Satoru chuckles. "You're not far off. It’s tied to shamanic rituals and is used for a variety of purposes, mostly for divination and mind control."

He lets the words hang in the air for a moment, his grin widening. Kinji is leaning in, his index finger curled around his chin. Kirara seems to be paying attention as well.

"No fighting?" Kinji questions.

Satoru cocks his head to the side. "It’s a much more spiritual approach compared to your usual physical confrontation with curses, yes."

"And galdr?" Kirara asks, his voice calm but with a hint of interest.

"Ah," Satoru says with a dramatic pause. "That’s a form of sorcery tied to singing and chanting. The effect of such sorcery strengthens the physical aspects of the world. You know, making weapons sharper, armors sturdier - "

Kinji nudges Kirara, smirking. "Guess it wasn't all about seeing into the future."

Satoru crosses his arms, looking at the students with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "The ancestors of modern-day Scandinavians were as resourceful as they were well-rounded."

Kinji chuckles. "So, you're saying if I just talk long enough, I could bore curses to death? Or maybe sing them to hell?"

His teacher laughs. "Cute but no. It’s the intent behind the chant and the control of curse energy that matters."

Just then, the door to the training hall creaks open. The students glance toward it, and Satoru’s expression shifts slightly, his grin widening into something almost fond.

Liv enters the classroom with graceful, if reserved intent.

She moves with purpose, her presence filling the room immediately. Tall, composed, and exuding an effortless air of mystery, Liv’s cool, calculated gaze sweeps across the room, her lips quirking upward at the sight of the class.

"This brings back memories," she says, her voice smooth. "Sorry to interrupt, by the way."

Satoru chuckles softly, clearly pleased by her timing. "Not at all, perfect timing in fact. I was just explaining techniques not native to the island."

"Oh?" Liv muses, hiding her hands inside the sleeves of her kimono. "Care if I join in on the lecture?"

His eyes gleam with excitement. "Actually, why not hold the lecture yourself? I was talking about your particular set of skills."

Liv raises an eyebrow but walks toward the front, the sound of her dress shoes clicking on the floor. "You always know how to make things sound so dramatic."

She says dryly, but there’s no malice in her tone as she stands beside her husband. The students look up at her with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"So, seidr," Liv begins, her voice calm, as if she's reciting a bedtime story. "It isn't about raw power like your typical cursed technique. It’s about reaching into the ether, connecting with the spiritual realm, and channeling that energy through rituals or offerings. The cursed energy flows, rather than hits. It's about manipulating the non-physical aspects of a curse or a person."

Her gaze then sharpens, locking onto the students. "It’s a technique based on insight. Although in practice, it is much more effective as a defense rather than an offense, as it can be a lengthy process."

Kirara stares in awe, clearly impressed. "Can you talk to the dead? You said it can allow you to reach into the spiritual realm."

Liv nods, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "In a manner of sorts. Trespassing into the underworld is a taboo practice. One can find themselves the new victim of the shinigami's business if not careful."

"I heard the Vikings used sorcery to resurrect their dead and speak to the gods of their religion," Kinji notes excitedly.

"That’s where galdr comes in," Liv continues, her voice taking on a softer, more rhythmic tone, as if the very subject is something deeply personal to her. "It's rooted in sound and frequency to create specific spells, some of which can enhance the presence of lingering spirits and allow the shaman to communicate directly for a short time."

She pauses before adding, "Galdr mixed with seidr can also create life if the shaman is skilled."

Kirara leans forward slightly, intrigued. "Can you do that?"

Satoru is curious as well, his eyes fixed on Liv's stature.

She hesitates to answer, though, as her expression is unreadable. "Maybe one day, but not today."

Satoru watches Liv with a mixture of admiration and pride, his usual playful attitude softening. He's glad she took him up on his invite and that the boys are taking to her so well.

"You heard her," he says, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Impressive, I know, but did you really expect anything less from my wife?"

Kinji's eyes widen in realization. "Wait, you're Liv Drakon? The Shuuin mistress?"

Liv’s smile is tight as she turns to her husband. "Maybe you should've started with that piece of information."

Satoru laughs, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry."

She scoffs, feigning disdain.

"In any case, that's it for the theory," Satoru changes the subject quickly, addressing his students. "Time to train. Go to the ground three, I'll catch up."

"No rush, sensei," Kinji teases, leaving his seat. "We can take care of ourselves for an hour."

"Or two," Kirara quips, his grin mirroring that of his peer. "Pleasure to meet you, Drakon-sama."

Liv smiles at the two boys. "Pleasure is all mine."

"Hopefully, we'll see you again," Kinji adds, winking at her direction before sneaking a glance at his teacher. "Your lectures are truly informative."

Satoru doesn't seem to like his tone. "Go, now."

Suppressing their giggles, the boys offer a courteous bow before dashing out of the classroom, realizing that Satoru will no longer tolerate their pranks. Liv presses her lips, suppressing a chuckle of her own.

"Fun bunch," she comments instead.

He clicks his tongue. "Brats, the lot of them but at least they've got potential."

Liv nods. "Especially that rowdy boy. What's his name?"

"Kinji Hakari," Satoru answers, leaning against his table. "Strong. The other is Kirara Hoshi. Quick on his feet, that one."

She listens and nods occasionally. "The strength in novices is increasing as years go by."

"Indeed," Satoru agrees. "Although, and this is between you and me, I've handpicked most generations since I took post."

"No," Liv feigns shock, smiling. "Really?"

He grins. "Really. In any case, they're good kids. They like you. I'm glad you came by."

She hums, crossing her arms. "Likewise, although I came for another reason."

He keeps up the pretense, although he can already tell something is afoot.

"They let you off easily," he notes, no trace of frustration in his words. "What did you promise them?"

She smiles. "You know me so well."

"Of course I do," he scoffs. "You're my wife. Out with it."

There is pride in what he says. 

"There is a slight change in agreement between the Shuuin and the higher-ups," she answers truthfully, looking at his shrouded eyes. "The Shuuin will remain undisturbed and outside the politics of the jujutsu world."

"In exchange for?" he probes further.

Liv takes a deep breath. "They're still suspicious of our marriage. There's no proof of their claims, but they want proof of ours."

Satoru frowns. Dread creeps into his bones.

"They want me to birth your child as soon as possible," she says, adding grimly, "or they will hunt the Shuuin down."

Only a single word passes his lips.

"Fuck."

Chapter 14: Blood Of My Blood

  November 30th, 2016. / 10:12 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The car ride is thunderous, muffling any noise coming through the radio.

Mathias sighs as he begins to rub his temples. The higher-ups' decision weighs heavy on him, though he keeps his emotions in check. Tove and Rune, on the other hand, have their expressions bare. The air around them is charged, outstrengthening a thunderstorm. They know that the Shuuin clan is in a precarious position, and their mistress’s decision only complicates matters.

As they drive closer to the Manor, Rune can’t contain the worry that flickers in her gaze. “This was never the plan.”

Mathias gives a small nod, acknowledging the tension in her words. His jaw tightens as he fights back the irritation. He knows they’re both well aware of what this means—what it could mean for the Shuuin and for Liv.

“Yet we’ve known this was coming," he reasons.

Rune doesn’t look reassured, her brow furrowing further. “But a child? It would never be a Shuuin. The Gojo's would claim it, erase Liv from - "

Tove cuts her off, her voice steady but firm, “There won't be a child. You really think Liv would let her baby be taken from her? Besides, their demands have nothing to do with prolonging the Gojo line or keeping the Shuuin alive, for that matter.”

Mathias glances at Tove, his eyes sharp as he nods. “Tove’s right. Whether a child is born or not makes little difference. The higher-ups merely want an excuse to attack the Shuuin."

The declaration hangs heavy in the air. Rune and Tove exchange glances, uncertainty in their eyes.

Rune speaks first, her voice steady, “What do we do, then? The Shuuin can't be defenseless.”

He raises a hand, a gesture of finality, though there’s no smugness in his posture. “The spy network will work overtime, I’d wager and the rest of the clan will have to pull their weight. This time, when they attack, we must be ready.”

Tove’s voice is almost like a whisper as she mutters, “What of Gojo?”

Mathias’s jaw tightens at the mention of Satoru Gojo. There have been times when Mathias had wondered if Liv's loyalty to the white-haired sorcerer was more than just that. 

“Gojo’s a tool in their hands, and he knows it,” Mathias answers, reserved. “He’s not the enemy, though - the higher-ups are. Keep that in mind.”

Rune and Tove exchange a brief, silent look before both women nod in agreement.

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 10:34 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Liv hasn't been at the training grounds since she left Japan.

The last time she witnessed it was during Satoru and Suguru's showdown, back when Suguru could still train with the strongest sorcerer alive. Nostalgia overwhelms her for a moment; only a moment. After all, it was years ago, and Suguru is no longer there. She looks toward her husband, silently wondering if he thinks of the raven-head these days. Since the wedding, she never caught him recalling their shared memories. Part of her is glad Suguru is not between them. Part of her is self-deprecating as she notes how her relevance to Satoru is present only when Suguru is not. She closes her eyes, pushing away intrusive thoughts.

She focuses on her current predicament.

A child. The higher-ups want an heir. It’s a thinly veiled threat. As she steps toward the cliff overlooking the barren valley, her gaze naturally falls on the figures in the distance. Kinji and Kirara, both focused and disciplined in their movements, stand opposite each other, preparing to strike. It is Kinji who attacks first, with Kirara lifting his hands in defense. Their bodies are dancing around one another in a graceful yet deadly tango.

Satoru stands by her side, his towering figure contrasting her smaller stature. His presence is a constant reminder of the delicate web of their lives, intricately woven yet fragile. He’s wearing the same jolly expression, but Liv knows better. Satoru turns his head to her, a flicker of discomfort passing over his face. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, like a crack in an otherwise impenetrable mask.

Liv scoffs, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “You'll get wrinkles, Satoru.”

She watches as Kinji’s punch narrowly misses Kirara’s face, the clash of cursed energy lighting up the training space. He's picking up on the other boy's cursed technique quickly. The patterns are becoming more obvious, the result of constant training together. Satoru’s gaze shifts back to the sparring pair, though it’s clear his mind is elsewhere. He shifts uncomfortably, and Liv catches the way his jaw tightens. It’s an involuntary reaction, a habit she thought he’s ditched since becoming an adult.

“At least there’s no binding vow, right?” he asks, his tone too casual.

Liv's eyes narrow slightly, and she tilts her head, considering his discomfort. She hears his inner conflict, the disquiet he feels at the mere thought of an heir. More than that, she knows it’s not about her at all. 

“The circumstances are too complex to make a simple binding vow,” she answers. “We’re talking about conception here. Pregnancy is difficult for normies, more so for sorcerers.”

“You still agreed to it,” he notes bitterly.

“It is an excuse, Satoru,” Liv says, her voice tinged with something eerie. “A child means nothing to them. They're simply setting a stage to justify their future crime.”

He doesn't look at her, keeping his gaze ahead. Yet, his mind continues to wonder, playing out various scenarios. 

She holds his chin between her index finger and thumb, turning his face sharply towards her. “They’ve given us four months.”

For a moment, there’s silence between them, a quiet understanding passing uninterupted. He looks back toward the sparring duo, his obscured gaze observing their movements with the intensity he always brings to the fight. His hands are tucked in his pockets, a mask of nonchalance.

He finally speaks, his voice low, “You’re buying time.”

“Yes,” Liv says, her tone hardening. 

She’s never lacked for strategy, either. That’s what she’s good at: outthinking the game, bending it to her will.

"They'll keep us apart, purposefully," he says with a clear disdain on his face. "Make it seem like we're not spending any time together."

"We can’t have that," she adds.

"Make it convincing, too," he notes. "I'll sell the penthouse and move to the Shuuin Manor, with your permission."

She smiles, her gaze flickering to Kinji, who's now high in the air, poised for a strike. “Careful, husband. I'm not used to that kind of subserviance from you.”

Satoru meets her eyes again, and though he remains outwardly calm, there’s a subtle shift in his demeanor.

“I'm trying to be considerate,” Satoru mutters, his voice quieter now. "Heartless woman - " 

His words aren’t laced with bitterness, but rather something softer, a thread of wistfulness woven into the fabric of his tone. Liv stands taller, her posture straightening as she gazes over the valley.

“You can move in at your convenience,” she says, her voice unwavering, final, and she meets his hidden eyes again, this time with a faint, but knowing smile. “Just don’t get in my way.”

As Kinji lands a decisive blow on Kirara, Satoru’s gaze shifts once more, his posture straightening. There’s a shift in him now, a return to the strong, unshakable force he always has been. And Liv, though her mind is already spinning with her next move, finds herself wondering just how much of him is still the boy who once stood beside her.

The answer is buried too deep for her to dig up just yet.

"Can the Shuuin suffer the brunt of the higher-ups?" he asks slowly.

She nods. "I’m not the only combatant."

Satoru shifts ever so slightly closer to her. "Can you suffer the brunt of the higher-ups?"

The question lingers in the air. Liv doesn't respond for a while, seemingly lost in thought. After a few seconds pass, she hums. 

"I don't appreciate your doubt, husband," she says, clearly irritated.

He clears his throat, "It's not doubt, Liv. We're talking about the united forces of the jujutsu executives. That's a small army."

"Would you like to find out for yourself, then?" she whispers, her tone far too taunting, bordering on seductive.

Satoru's body tenses, and he feels fire brewing in the pit of his stomach. It's been a while since he felt this. Excitment, anticipation, desire - call it however you want. 

He swallows thickly before answering, "Would you show me?"

She smiles. "Somewhere private, sure."

Satoru gazes at her lips. "Why not here? It's the perfect stage to show off your skills. My students will appreciate it, too."

On cue, Liv glances at Kinji and Kirara. They're both panting, clearly reaching their limit.

"Because the Council doesn't know about the Shuuin battle prowess," she says, a playful grin dancing across her face. "I want to keep it that way, at least for a little longer."

Satoru smirks, chuckling, "You're being coy, darling."

"Only for you, dear," she muses, tapping his chest as she walks away, "only for you."

The sudden display of intimacy doesn't go unnoticed by the white-haired sorcerer. Even as she distances herself, he can still feel her touch.

"I'll meet you at home," she waves her hand over her shoulder. "Better be ready. I won't go easy on you."

He doesn't miss the way she said 'home'. He also doesn't miss the innuendo in her promise.

"At home, then," he says softly, watching her disappear in the surrounding woods.

The wholesome moment is crashingly ruined by someone calling out his name. Turning his attention back to his students, he sees Kinji waving at him while Kirara is doubled over, breathing heavily.

"What's up?!" he waves back, his usual grin plastered across his face. "Why did you stop?!"

The expression on Kinji's face is priceless. "We've been at it for half an hour without a single break!"

"Some stamina you've got," Satoru criticises, clicking his tongue as he joins them in the valley. "Come on, up them arms, take a stance! Don't make me look bad, I have a reputation to maintain!"

A collective groan welcomes him as his students exchange exasperated looks. 

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 13:03 / Shimanto, Kochi Prefecture, Japan

 

A young man, barely in his teens, stands in front of a small, crumbling shrine on the edge of a forest. The air is thick with the scent of moss and damp earth. He adjusts his black beanie, the one with a faded logo, and takes a deep breath. His gaze drifts across the trees, their trunks bent and twisted by the years, the leaves rustling like whispers in the wind. His fingers twitch, itching to speak, but the words don't come.

Since he was a child, words have been his enemy, a curse that binds him with every syllable. His family’s legacy is steeped in shame, a striving to stifle a power that could never be controlled fully. The Inumaki elders, wise in their age, have long pushed for silence, for repression. They say the curse will destroy the Inumaki line if it's allowed to flourish. And so, for as long as Toge can remember, he’s been told to keep quiet, to repress his ability, to never let his voice be heard.

His father, however, is different.

Toge's father is the only one who truly believes in him, the only one who makes him feel like he isn’t just a ticking bomb. 

He remembers the quiet tension in the house, the disapproving glances from the elders, the whispers about his father's defiance. His father would take him to quiet places, away from the prying eyes of the clan, and would encourage him to speak. Just speak. Sometimes it would be a word, sometimes a sentence, sometimes a full conversation. His father would listen, never judging, never recoiling. 

It was the only encouragement he ever received. The rest of the world sees him as a liability, but his father has never given up on Toge.

Even when the clan cut out his tongue.

There had been warning signs. The pressure from the clan had grown unbearable. The elders had come for his father, demanding he renounce his defiance, to comply with the long-held traditions of suppression. Toge’s father had fought with everything he had, but in the end, the clan had the last word.

As Toge walks through the forest, the sound of leaves crunching beneath his boots, he wonders what it would be like to speak freely, to not worry about the consequences of every word.

He stops in his tracks, looking up at the sky. The clouds are darkening, signaling the approaching storm. Toge closes his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the silence around him. 

Without a word, he turns and walks back home.

 

///

 

November 30th, 2016. / 14:58 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The Manor is quiet as Liv enters its hallow corridors.

She hears hushed voices from the living room, followed by creaking of furniture against the wooden floor. As she nears the living room, she notices solemn Tove and sniffling Rune sitting on the couch while Mathias is packing the last of his luggage. The air is uncomfortable and gloomy.

Though their relationship has been fraught with unspoken grievances, unsaid words, and years of distance, Liv feels oddly bummed. Mathias’ departure, a move to Hokkaido, was inevitable. She shouldn’t be affected by it.

Yet, she is.

Mathias stands in the hallway, his dark coat pulled tight against the cold air, his eyes fixed on the ground. His presence, much like Liv’s, is commanding. The man who had once been as proud and sharp as a blade now appears wearier, burdened.

He looks up when Liv approaches, and there’s a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He doesn't smile, but there’s no bitterness either, only a quiet understanding that neither of them can seem to voice.

"You’re leaving," Liv says softly, her voice steady but laced with a subtle undertone of emotion.

Mathias exhales slowly. His features, strikingly similar to hers, are hardened by age and long-suffered regrets. 

"Yes," he says, his voice low. 

Liv tilts her head slightly, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the edges of her lips, though it’s not a joyful one. "Guess that’s it, then. It hasn’t been easy for either of us."

"No, it hasn’t," he admits. "You’ve come a long way, sister."

Liv's gaze softens at his words. Despite the distance between them and obvious differences in character, he helped her rise to leadership, even if his help was given grudgingly at times. She feels a pang of gratitude for his support, nonetheless.

She steps forward, her hand reaching out to place a delicate touch on his shoulder. "I am grateful, Mathias. For everything."

Mathias looks down at her hand. He doesn’t pull away, though he doesn’t exactly lean into the gesture either.

"Don’t mention it," he murmurs. "In the great saga of Liv Magnusdotten, I can say I did my part."

A silence falls between them, the kind that speaks volumes - years of unspoken words, of battles fought in different ways, of familial bonds that were never properly forged. Liv’s heart feels a strange warmth at his words, a mix of relief and sorrow. She wishes she could say more but the gap between them makes such wishes obsolete. What’s left now is a quiet goodbye.

Mathias clears his throat, shifting slightly. "Nova’s been asking about you. You should visit her sometime."

Liv’s smile is small, but it’s genuine. She nods slowly, though the unspoken truth lingers in the air between them: no promises.

"I will try," she says simply, her words sincere. "You know how it is. The world doesn’t stop for anyone."

Mathias chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, it doesn’t. And neither do you, Liv. You’ve never been one to stop."

Liv shrugs slightly, her smile remaining. "That’s true. I suppose that’s why I ended up here."

The wind picks up slightly, the cold air sweeping through the courtyard, its whistle echoing in the empty Manor. Mathias glances at the front door, his expression unreadable.

"Goodbye," Liv says softly. "Good luck."

His eyes soften just for a moment before he nods, the lines around his mouth relaxing. "And good riddance."

Mathias turns around, his movements deliberate, as if every step is measured against years of hesitation and regret. Liv watches him go, her gaze steady and quiet, as though trying to capture this fleeting moment of peace.

Tove follows after the man, joined by snot-nosed Rune. Liv hums as she sees them off.

As they descend the staircase, Liv stands atop the hill. She doesn’t wave. She doesn’t need to. She stays there, watching as they enter the sleek car. Rune and Tove get into the driver’s and passenger’s seat, while Mathias opens the back door. Before entering, he spares one more glance at his sister. He doesn’t see her expression nor can she see his. Mathias smirks as he enters the car, shutting the door. 

Liv crosses her arms, her eyes glued to the car as it disappears beyond the bend in the road. When it is finally out of sight, Liv turns and enters the house. She doesn’t look back, not even once. 

But the smile lingers on her lips, small, bittersweet.

The wind whispers across the hills, its murmurs barely audible as it weaves between the stone walls of the secluded sanctuary. Inside, though, the warmth of flickering candlelight casts soft shadows on the walls, and the scent of parchment and incense lingers in the air. You will definitely be missed, Liv muses inwardly as she walks back to the living room.

However, something catches her attention and she halts briefly. Her eyes search for an intruder but there is barely anything there. She frowns, wondering if it’s a curse. No, she quickly surmises as she recognizes the residuals. Checking over her shoulder, she stares at the front door. Someone is on the other side, that much is certain. But that can’t be. With even, careful strides, she walks back to the door. Before she can reach the doorknob, however, there is a knock of three.

This catches her off guard but she straightnes her posture. Indeed, someone familiar is on the Manor’s threshold and it is someone whose thoughts she can hear now. Luckily for Liv, this person rarely held back her thoughts.

“Are you going to invite me in or not?!”

Liv smirks. With a sigh, she pulls the doorknob, revealing a stunning beauty: Yuki Tsukumo.

“Well?” the woman muses, crossing her arms. “I’ve been on the road for a while, you know.”

Wordlessly, Liv stands aside, allowing the older woman to enter. 

“Thank you,” is Yuki’s reply. 

"Yuki Tsukumo," Liv says, her voice a smooth blend of warmth and detachment as she closes the door. "How long has it been? Six, seven years?"

Yuki smirks, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She makes her way down the hallway, her stride even as if she owns the place, despite having never stepped foot within the Manor’s premises. As she enters the living room, Yuki makes herself comfortable in the nearest spot on the couch.

"Give or take a few," she crosses her legs, leaning back into the couch’s backrest. "You look good. Leadership suits you."

Liv doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she sits opposite the woman. She leans back slightly, her hands folded neatly in her lap, a picture of controlled grace. 

“It’s not like you to butter up people like this,” she points out with a knowing smile. “Why did you come, Yuki?”

The fair-haired beauty’s carefree demeanor persists nonetheless. She looks around the place, noticing the lack of decorations. Putting aside the fact that a centuries-old estate should bear some semblance of memorabilia, if not decor, Yuki notes it is rather bland and modern. 

As if they are ready to run at any sign of danger.

“I was curious about the Shuuin’s sudden involvement with the jujutsu authority,” Yuki muses. “I thought you’d declare the clan enemy of noble families.”

“I thought you of all people would know the difference between teenage cockiness and level-headed tactical approach,” Liv retorts. 

Yuki winks at her. “Don’t misunderstand - I’m glad to see you alive and well despite your latest choices.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Liv reminds her, gently but with a hint of threat.

Yuki Tsukumo is no pushover. A Special Grade sorcerer, one of three officially recognized by the Jujutsu High, she tolerates no disrespect or buffoonery. Tough love is her favorite language; that is probably why the two women found common ground despite their initial dislike.

“You’re no fun,” Yuki pouts but it doesn’t last long. “Fine, as you wish. I need your help.”

“With what?” Liv asks, already suspicious.

The older woman’s carefree persona falters, revealing the face of a warrior Liv met all those years ago. “Same thing I asked your master.”

Ah, I get it, Liv muses inwardly, a sarcastic grin threatening to split her face in two. “You still working on that? Damn, now that’s dedication.”

Yuki tries not to roll her eyes. “I know you can help me. You said as much yourself.”

Liv takes a deep breath. Yuki has been researching ways of eradicating curses by exterminating their source. Her work often yielded no rewards and has been highly hypothetical. Back in the day, Yuki tracked down Toji Fushiguro - at the time still known by his birth name, Zen’in. She believed he’d be a perfect subject for her research. Understandably, the assassin flipped her off and never saw her again.

However, Yuki crossed Liv’s path numerous times over the years, the latest being shortly before Suguru’s defection seven years ago. Liv hardly heard of the no-good woman spending her days doing nonsense science but she had made a permanent impression on young Shuuin. During one conversation initiated by Yuki, Liv revealed that the Shuuin had ways of extracting cursed energy from sorcerers, leaving them effectively detached from it.

Even then, Liv emphasized that the rituals were abandoned generations ago. However, Yuki seemed hung up on it, and given her sudden visit, it appears she’s still entertaining those futile fantasies.

"I’ve been researching similar stories across the world," Yuki continues, pacing now, her hands gesturing to emphasize the magnitude of her thoughts. "I found some scriptures and legends but nothing conclusive. I thought, if we amalgamate all our findings, we could create a new ritual for such purposes."

Liv raises an eyebrow, intrigued, but her lips curl into a soft, knowing smile. "Plausible but impractical. A small-scale ritual could be effective, but a large-scale one? That would take decades, maybe even centuries to prepare and then some more to perform." 

She leans forward, her voice low but firm. "Let it go, Yuki. Curses are a natural part of this world. You’re playing with forces beyond your understanding or abilities."

Yuki stops pacing, turning her eyes toward Liv with a sharp gaze. "Please, don't tell me what I can or can't do. It's rather rude."

The words hang between them like a blade, a delicate tension filling the room. Liv’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s an edge to her expression now. 

"I’m sorry Yuki but I can’t give you what you want," she says, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You’re asking too much of me at the worst possible time."

Yuki snorts, folding her arms over her chest. "You mean the political unrest you cooked yourself? You may have fooled your husband but you’re not fooling me."

The mention of Satoru sends a subtle flash of emotion across Liv’s face. It’s quick, almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Her lips part, but she pauses before speaking, her tone turning colder, more controlled.

"Apples and oranges, Love," Liv’s words are pointed, and her gaze flickers toward Yuki. “Instead of hopping place to place, chasing ghosts, gossip and fairy tales, you should be doing something practical for a change and stop ignoring the big picture."

Yuki laughs, shaking her head. "I understand the big picture well, Liv and that is why I'm here." 

She steps closer, her voice low, almost a whisper. "Have you heard of Yuta Okkotsu? I heard your husband is assigned to retrieve him in two days."

Liv stands, a smooth motion, her eyes never leaving Yuki’s face. Her gaze is firm, unwavering. 

"I'm afraid not," she lies, somewhat, not completely. "Quite frankly, I don't care. That's Satoru's business, not mine."

"Maybe you should," Yuki says, pulling away and looking around aimlessly. "I heard that boy could very well be Special Grade."

Liv lifts a brow. "And?"

Yuki halts in her step and looks over her shoulder, her eyes lidded and her rosy lips stretched. "I want to get to that boy."

The Shuuin mistress says nothing at first. Then she scoffs.

"Then get him."

Yuki shakes her head. "I can't. Don't know where he is, don't know what he is and I have no access to official documents."

"And you think I do?" Liv asks incredulously. 

"Your husband does," the Special Grade muses with a playful grin on her face. "You could, I don't know, persuade him to bring you along? Text me where you are so I can drop by, see the boy for myself?"

Liv doesn't like her idea. The expression on her face says as much.

"Even if I do manage to talk Satoru into letting me tag along," she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, "why should I tell you where the boy is?"

Yuki tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. "Word on the street is, the Shuuin are preparing for something big. Your spies have been gone from the underworld. Allying with Gojo and the higher-ups, returning to Japan after spending years overseas - it is obvious you’re up to something and it's certainly not to get in the old fart's good graces. I merely want us to work together, like the good old days."

There’s a long silence as Liv stands, her posture straight, but her expression unreadable. She stares at Yuki, her mind clearly turning over something, some decision, some truth she’s yet to say. 

Finally, she speaks, her voice softer now, tinged with a certain weariness, "It seems you've forgotten why we've stopped working together in the first place. Want me to remind you?"

Yuki looks at her for a long moment, a flicker of understanding crossing her features.

"Am I to take that as a no, then?" she mutters. 

The two women stand in the quiet, the tension between them heavy, their unresolved thoughts hanging like unspoken words. There is a chasm between them. As much as Liv wishes to trust her, past experiences tell her otherwise.

“I will see what I can do,” Liv says with restraint in her voice, “but no promises.”

Yuki presses her lips into a line. It doesn’t fit her beautiful face.

“I understand,” the older woman asks softly, no hint of malice or criticism in her voice but pity.

With that, the other woman turns on her heel and heads outside, leaving Liv alone with her thoughts.

 

///

 

December 1st, 2016 / 00:21 / Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The black sedan rolls to a smooth halt at the foot of the Shuuin Manor's hill. The hum of the engine fades, leaving only the sound of the wind threading through pine needles. In the back seat, Satoru Gojo shifts, his fingers tapping a thoughtless rhythm against his thigh. He doesn’t look up right away - he doesn’t need to. The silhouette of the Manor looms ahead, outlined against the cold night sky like something carved from shadow and stone.

Ijichi glances at him through the rearview mirror. “We’ve arrived, Gojo-san.”

Satoru’s only response is a quiet breath. He leans forward, peers through the tinted window at the distant outline of the estate. His jaw tenses. The closer he gets, the heavier the air feels.

“Right,” he murmurs, then steps out into the night.

The air bites sharply against his skin. He adjusts the edge of his blindfold, letting the chill settle over him. Despite the silence, his presence slices through the stillness like a blade. The manor stands tall at the top of the hill, its gates flanked by stone walls and dimly lit lanterns. Red spider lilies bloom beside the path, out of season (intentional, no doubt). Everything here is curated, from the charm-infused cobblestones to the oppressive weight in the air.

He climbs the stone staircase without urgency, each step dragging the day’s exhaustion back to the surface. When he reaches the front door, he knocks once, twice. Nothing.

Still, his Six Eyes sense a familiar signature.

Satoru exhales and pushes the door open. It gives with little resistance, the Manor swallowing him into its hollow quiet. The soft click of the door closing behind him echoes through the grand hall.

He stands there a moment, letting the silence press in. Then he unwraps the blindfold, tucking the cotton into his coat pocket. His vision sharpens.

Liv’s cursed energy trails faintly through the corridors like a memory and he follows it.

The Manor is all dim lighting and cool air, the corridors appearing long and quiet. He finds her room without thinking, the door slightly ajar. Inside, the moonlight spills across the floor in silver pools, touching the edges of the bed where Liv lies sprawled in sleep.

She’s half-covered, limbs tangled in sheets, her shirt riding up just enough to expose the pale line of her waist. One leg slips out from under the blanket. She sleeps deeply, but not peacefully. He can see it in the way her brow knots, in the tear stains drying on her cheeks.

A tightness coils in his chest.

He steps into the room.

“Liv,” he calls gently.

No response. He walks closer, leans down.

“Liv, wake up.”

Her eyes flutter open. Her voice, when it comes, is thick with sleep and something older. "Late again, huh?"

Satoru offers a tired smile. “You know how it is.”

Liv rubs at her eyes, slow and groggy. She glances out at the moonlit window, then back at Satoru. Her gaze lingers, not on his face, but on the stiffness in his shoulders, the tension tucked behind the corners of his mouth.

Her voice softens. “What happened?”

He shrugs, casual on the surface, but his reply comes slower than usual. “Nothing urgent. Just the usual. People ask things of me because they think I can fix everything.”

She watches him for a moment longer. She knows better than to pry - he wouldn’t give her a straight answer even if she did. But she also knows the weight behind his flippancy, the way it hides exhaustion like armor.

“At least you’re here,” she says, offering a tired smile.

His lips twitch upward. A beat passes in silence as he studies her. The way her hair is mussed, the faint shimmer of sweat on her temple, the curve of her ribs rising and falling under the moonlight. She's soft in sleep, unguarded in a way she never is while awake.

He feels something hitch inside him. Guilt, maybe, or longing. He’s not sure which one wins.

But he’s also perceptive. His eyes narrow slightly.

“I’m sensing a stranger’s residuals,” he murmurs.

Liv’s smile fades just a little. “Yuki stopped by earlier.”

“Yuki Tsukumo?” He raises a brow, something like amusement flickering behind his voice. “That’s two Special Grades in the same room. I’m almost flattered.”

She shrugs lightly, stretching as she sits up. “We had things to discuss.”

His gaze follows the lazy stretch of her arms, the way her shirt slips further off one shoulder. For a second, his attention dips visibly. He clears his throat and quickly looks away.

“You’re the only one I like being around,” she adds, casual but deliberate.

He grins at that, cocking his head. “So you do like me?”

“I tolerate you. Immensely.”

“Mm. Still counts,” he leans against the doorframe. “So, what now? Sparring match to celebrate my homecoming?”

She smirks. “Up for it?”

“You sure you’re not too tired?”

She tilts her head. “Are you?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at her. The way her bare feet press into the wooden floor. The way her eyes reflect the moonlight, unreadable but sharp.

She’s already moved before he can respond.

In the blink of an eye, he’s flat on the bed, arms above his head, her weight straddling his thighs while her palm rests against his chest. Her expression is unreadable.

“Still think you’re faster than me?” she murmurs.

His eyes don’t leave hers. The tension shifts, electric and quiet. The heat of her legs seeping through the layers of his clothes. His voice comes low, amused but edged.

“I’m the strongest sorcerer alive. What do you think?”

She leans in just a little, her voice calm as she says, “We’re alone. Tove and Rune are out, and the higher-ups say they’ve stopped monitoring.”

“You believe that?”

“I’ve set charms in the forest. Haven’t seen a single crow.”

He hums. Not quite a laugh, but close. He lets himself sink a little further into the mattress, his arms still resting above his head. Her fingers graze his collarbone before slipping away.

“You really are something, Liv Drakon.”

She pulls back, her expression shifting again, softer this time. He watches her rise, her bare feet padding softly across the room as she grabs a kimono from the display rack.

“Shall we?” she asks, already walking toward the door.

Satoru pushes up from the bed and follows her without a word. His fingers brush the back of her hand as they step into the night air together.

The air outside bites sharper than before, but Liv doesn’t flinch as she slips on her kimono, hugging it close. Satoru walks beside her, hands deep in his pockets, his stride relaxed. He glances sideways, watching her silhouette shift under the faint lantern light that spills from the Manor windows.

They cross the courtyard in silence, shoes scuffing against stone, the soft rustle of trees whispering overhead. The deeper into the woods they go, the less the world follows. No residuals. No pressure. Just the clean hush of earth and distant charms pulsing faintly through the undergrowth.

Ten minutes in, Satoru narrows his eyes. He feels the disruption now, like static under the skin. The runes Liv mentioned have taken effect. His senses blur at the edges.

“You weren’t lying,” he mutters. “These are similar to the ones around the Great Mother’s cave.”

Liv halts in the clearing, barefoot on the cool soil. Her kimono sways softly in the wind, and she tosses him a look over her shoulder. 

He smirks. “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

She lifts a hand and murmurs something beneath her breath. A faint shimmer glides across her skin. Then, with a light tap behind her ear, the runes appear, trailing from her chin, curling down her neck, vanishing beneath her clothes. Glowing like submerged embers. Blue, gold, silver.

Satoru stills.

“That’s how you do it,” he says quietly. “That’s how you leave no trace.”

She glances at her palm, where the center sigil pulses slowly and steadily. “They’re galdr charms. Most of them take months to charge.”

He frowns, gaze sharpening. “Years, by the look of it.”

No slippage of cursed energy. No wasted output. Each script on her body is charged to its limit. It’s less technique and more ritual. 

“What do they do?”

Instead of answering, she whispers again - and the ground beneath him liquifies.

Satoru launches upward midair, blinking in disbelief.

“Really?” he calls down. “Quicksand?”

“Come now,” she purrs from the clearing, brushing her hair back. “You were expecting fireballs?”

“Something flashier, at least. This is your first real spar with me.”

Liv smiles. “You want spectacle?”

She raises both arms, and the wind responds first.

The forest shifts.

Towering trees sway, their shadows warping across the clearing as if something older has stirred beneath the roots. Her hair glints in the starlight, silver threads catching the glow of her runes. He cracks his neck, hands still in his pockets.

“You know,” he says, “Normally, I don’t go easy on pretty girls.”

Her reply is ice and fire. “Well, don't stop on my account.”

Then she moves.

Her feet barely disturb the soil, her path a flicker of movement through the tall grass. Runes on her skin flash sea-glass green and glacial blue, then vanish again as she ducks behind a swirl of wind that she summons with a twist of her wrist.

The gale slams into Satoru like a sharpened wave, full of dirt, twigs, raw, cursed energy shaped into something primal.

Infinity holds.

The current snaps around him, eddying harmlessly. Satoru doesn’t blink. But his hands slide from his pockets now, fingers twitching once in amusement.

“Cute trick,” he murmurs.

Liv doesn’t reply. She slams her palms into the earth.

The clearing groans. Cracks burst outward like veins as skeletal roots lurch from below, clawing for his legs. Not to hurt, but to box him in. 

He pivots, body blurring out of their grasp. But the moment he shifts, she’s already behind him. 

Her foot swings toward where his head had been a breath ago.

Satoru leans back, narrowly avoiding the blow, then skids into a sideways guard.

“You made me dodge,” he says, sounding more amused than annoyed. “That’s rare.”

A flick of his finger sends a compressed burst of cursed energy her way.

She twirls before weaving a shield that takes the hit with a violent shudder of air and light. She lands light-footed on a boulder, exhaling softly.

“Do you ever stop talking?” she calls, then vanishes into the treeline.

Satoru clicks his tongue.

“Hide-and-seek now? You know I can see everything.”

Except - he can’t.

His Six Eyes pulse, seeking her residuals, but it’s gone.

She’s synced herself with the natural cursed flow of the forest. A metaphysical blend of sensory nullification and elemental camouflage.

His smirk fades. “Interesting.”

He adjusts his Infinity, tightening it flush against his skin. Defensive, now.

Then -

She drops from above.

Her palms blaze with invisible energy, focused into narrow blades. She aims the force into the earth near him, sending shockwaves out in concentric ripples. Trees groan. Dust lifts. Satoru’s hair ruffles in the updraft.

He steps from the haze, sleeves dusted, smirking.

“You flirting with me or trying to kill me?”

“Maybe both,” she says coolly.

Her blades vanish.

“In that case,” he says, brushing ash from his coat, “my turn.”

He doesn’t strike. Instead, he steps forward, too close, like he’s going to whisper something intimate.

“You’re making me work for it, Liv,” Satoru murmurs. “I kind of like that.”

She doesn’t smile.

Her knee drives toward his stomach instead.

Infinity stops it an inch away, a shimmer in the air between them.

But her lips are already moving.

Soft syllables ripple through the clearing, ancient and sharp. The runes on her skin flare before vanishing entirely.

He feels it first in the soles of his feet. The forest changes. The dirt beneath him doesn’t crumble but shifts, becomes slick and reflective, not quite water, not quite illusion. Like stepping onto glass.

His balance adjusts automatically, but still too late.

She gets behind him again.

Two fingers press gently at the base of his spine - nowhere vital.

Satoru raises a brow. “Waiting for something?”

Liv’s voice is quiet, but firm, “Surrender.”

His grin nearly splits his face in half.

“Cute,” he says. “But since you’re being all serious - ”

The forest holds its breath.

And then Infinity pulses.

The air cracks, a ripple of blue warping outward from his core. Cursed energy flares off his body like fire in zero gravity. His vision blares with colors, every strand of detail pulled into perfect clarity.

He sees everything now. The minute tremor in her breath. The micro-spikes in her cursed output. The glimmer of runes she’s tried to bury deep beneath her ribs.

Liv doesn’t flinch.

But her shoulders shift just slightly.

Satoru lifts a finger and flicks.

A boulder twenty meters away detonates, vaporized in a pinprick blast of cursed energy.

Liv throws herself sideways, bouncing off a trunk to regain her footing, but Satoru is already there, a blur of presence.

“We can stop here,” he says, cocking his head. “If you want.”

Her pupils narrow.

Magic bleeds from her pores like blood in water. It soaks the roots, the trees, the rocks beneath her feet. She lifts both arms slowly, and her galdr runes ignite, burning silver and red this time like constellations across her skin.

The trees bend around her. The sky darkens, not from clouds, but from cursed energy thickening the air. A flickering orb of compressed power forms a breath from his temple.

Her voice is distant and not entirely her own.

“Never.”

The cursed blast hits.

It crashes into Infinity with the force of a collapsing star. Trees explode. The sky splits in brilliant white. Earth liquefies. Sound disappears entirely.

For a moment, Satoru isn’t untouchable.

Infinity holds, but it shudders, warps, even compresses. Not broken but touched all the same.

His eyes widen - not in fear, but in sheer thrill.

She hit him.

As the shockwave fades and ash settles, Liv stands at the edge of the ruined grove. Her arms tremble. Blood traces one nostril. She doesn’t fall.

Satoru steps forward, lowering his Infinity slightly, just enough to feel the heat between them.

He brushes a knuckle against her cheek. Gently wipes the blood from her lip.

The clearing is unrecognizable. Trees charred. Stones melted. Air vibrating with residual cursed force.

But the damage never left the perimeter.

Satoru notes that. She’d planned it. She'd calculated the risk.

“You held back,” she says, breath catching.

“I had to,” he says. “You’re my wife.”

He circles her slowly, amusement and admiration mingling in his voice. “But for a second there, you almost had me.”

“I’m supposed to be flattered?” she mutters, too tired to smirk.

“You should be.”

She rolls her eyes, just enough to make the point. Her hands tremble now, post-battle fatigue threading into her joints. The runes are fading. Her skin looks too pale. She won’t collapse, not in front of him, but he sees it anyway.

“You overdid it,” he says gently.

Her chin lifts, defiant.

“Wanna hit the bed?” he asks, tone light again, offering her a way out without pressing.

She nods, quiet now. Her bare feet turn toward the path home.

He falls into step beside her, not touching, but close.

“You’re brilliant, by the way,” Satoru says.

She hums, her cheeks flush. “You’re not bad yourself.”

Chapter 15: I Think, Therefore, I Am

December 1st, 2016. / 00:44 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The mountain air still hums with the memory of their spar.

Mist curls around the ancient eaves of the Shuuin Manor like restless spirits, whispering over the frost-glazed courtyard and wind-scoured roof. Liv steps through the threshold first, her blonde hair damp with sweat, her breathing finally slowing into something even, though not quite calm. Her skin burns, sore from the galdr, her muscles coiled and humming beneath her kimono.

Satoru follows a step behind, brushing invisible dust from his sleeves. His bandages are tucked into his pocket, leaving his eyes bare. They follow Liv’s every step, unguarded and almost mesmerized.

“Didn’t know you were such a sore loser,” he teases, voice light.

She doesn’t answer. Just keeps walking.

He exhales a short laugh.

Inside, the Manor is hushed, cloaked in the kind of silence that feels like it's listening. He thinks about her proposal, weeks ago, about selling the penthouse and moving back here. He might’ve refused back then, but now, watching her move through these dim hallways, loose-limbed and relaxed in a way he rarely sees, the idea doesn’t sound so bad.

Their footsteps echo together. The remnants of their spar still cling to them: scrapes on skin, heat in their blood. They reach her room. Liv slows, her hand rising to untie her kimono, only for Satoru to interrupt her by touching her shoulders.

“Let me,” he says softly.

She raises a brow, but says nothing as he undoes the garment and hangs it on the display rack with surprising care. Before he can notice her watching him, she sinks onto the bed, pressing her fingers into her aching thighs. Even kicking off her boots makes her wince.

He notices.

“You okay?” he asks, settling beside her.

“I’m fine,” she mutters, lifting a hand. “It’s just galdr backlash.”

“It hurts?”

“Not always. Sometimes it’s just - everything all at once.”

He leans against the headboard, arms folded. “Not very practical, then.”

She smirks faintly. “It was never meant to be used this way.”

She glances at him. He’s quiet again, shoulders tense, lips pulled in thought.

“Stop frowning,” she mutters. “You’ll ruin the pretty.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head. “You admit it, then.”

“It’s less exhausting to agree with you,” she deadpans.

He laughs quietly. “Progress.”

“Still concerning.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so.”

Her hazel eyes flick to his. “That’s not true.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You know it is.”

She doesn’t argue. Instead, he stretches out beside her, lying flat now, one arm tucked behind his head. His eyes trace the ceiling as if reading some hidden inscription only he can see.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks after a long silence. “Was it the Shuuin?”

“Don’t I wish,” her smile is humorless. “My mother and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms. She wouldn’t let them train me. I had to find someone else.”

“Yaga only taught you cursed energy flow,” he says. “So not him.”

Something in her face shifts, too fast to fully catch. Her jaw tightens. She looks away.

“They were my Geto,” she says softly. “So you understand why I don’t want to talk about it.”

The air goes still.

Satoru reaches out, his fingers finding her wrist. Pulse to pulse.

Liv swallows a breath, blinking away the damp at the corners of her eyes. Satoru holds her chin, gently turning her toward him. Her lashes cast shadows over glassy eyes, but he doesn’t comment. He just presses his forehead against hers, and for once, says nothing.

She shifts uncomfortably, and he lets go, not all the way - just enough. One arm is still around her shoulder. The other combs gently through her braid, his fingertips scratching the scalp in slow, lazy motions.

She exhales, half-relieved, half-vulnerable.

Eventually, he stills, thoughts drifting somewhere darker.

“You’re quiet again,” she murmurs after a while.

He takes a breath, then another. “Just thinking.”

“About the boy?”

He chuckles under his breath. Of course. The Inner Eye.

“What do you know?” she asks next.

“His name. That’s about it.”

“That’s all?”

He nods. “No curse classification. No confirmed sightings. No known technique. But the higher-ups flagged him as a potential Special Grade.”

Her brow lifts. “They’re sending you in blind?”

“I’m the strongest.”

He doesn’t smile. Not really.

“Why is he so strong?” she asks.

“No one knows,” Satoru admits. “Some think he’s a vessel. Others think it’s a curse attached to him.”

“Are you supposed to retrieve him?”

“Or neutralize.”

The unspoken word lands heavy between them - kill.

She hears Yuki’s voice in the back of her mind. She hadn’t planned on taking the request seriously. But now, she’s not so sure.

"I could come with you," she offers.

He presses his lips.

“You still doubt me,” she says quietly.

Satoru’s expression tightens. “It’s dangerous.”

“So was sparring with you.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?” she tilts her head. “You held back.”

He arches a brow. “You say that like I lost.”

“Do you feel like you won?”

He groans, flopping back. “You’re deflecting.”

“So are you,” her voice turns coy. “You’re worried something might happen to me, even though I just proved I can handle myself.”

“You can’t defend against a Domain,” he snaps, then sighs. “Which this kid - or whatever’s attached to him - might very well possess.”

“Then I’ll run,” she retorts. “I’m not stupid. Don’t imply I am.”

He’s silent.

She smirks. “You’re thinking it.”

“Liv.”

“You’re broadcasting it. All that stoic protectiveness? Not very subtle.”

He glares. “It’s not about you.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t trust this mission. Or the timing.”

“Understandable.”

He mutters under his breath, then says louder, “Fine. I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt, especially on a mission I don’t understand.”

She studies him, then reaches up to brush a stray white hair from his temple.

He closes his eyes and exhales, finally letting himself sink into the mattress. “Why do I bother? You’re going to do whatever you want.”

“I’ll decide in the moment.”

“Great.”

 

///

 

December 1st, 2016. / 03:21 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Satoru waited until Liv fell asleep.

It took her a while, but her breath eventually evened out. He snuck out of her bed to prepare for the day ahead. 

He sits at the kitchen table, working on his laptop and running through the bunch of papers on his left side. The glass of water nearby is untouched. 

He doesn’t need it. Granted, he’s not sure what he needs as of late.

The spar in the woods plays out in his head. Liv had moved fast, her style graceful but reactive. No instinct to go for the throat, at least not first. Curses laced with Nordic chants, and modulated galdr charms mimicked cursed energy but never fully became it.

Clever, he admits. Still unrefined.

She doesn’t know the shape of cursed energy like he does. She wears it like borrowed silk; beautiful, rare, and prone to tearing under pressure. Mimicking cursed techniques could be effective against curses and inexperienced sorcerers. Paired with her evident speed and cursed energy manipulation, she is a formidable opponent.

But she is no match for the higher-ups or their goons. Against someone without a Domain? She might overwhelm them if she plays her cards right. Against someone with it? She’s as good as dead.

He exhales slowly, letting his back rest against the wooden chair. Pale moonlight filters through the large window, catching the corner of the dark leather couch. The moon is half-hidden behind clouds, the sky painted with faint brushstrokes of dawn that haven’t arrived yet.

They have four months.

That’s all the time they’ve got before the higher-ups start sniffing around with questions neither of them wants to answer. The issue of the heir isn’t just bureaucratic. It’s a loaded gun aimed at the Shuuin’s throat.

Four months until the higher-ups start their whispering campaign, start circling like vultures around the absence of an heir. Four short months until their hard-earned peace crumbles under the pressure for the scavengers to collect the remains with delight.

He knows their tactics. They’ll call her a failure, a distraction, a liability. He can already hear the smug tones of those Council bastards. They wouldn't attack them outright, not as long as she's married to Satoru. They will be sneaky about it. Satoru scoffs - fire against fire, indeed.

He runs through the possibilities.

He can’t turn Liv into a Domain user overnight. Frankly, he’s not sure if a sorcerer without a technique can summon a Domain at all. It’s like trying to light a fire with stormwater. However, if he could teach her how to shape her seidr and galdr into counter techniques, she might stand a chance if need be.

Interference spells. Short-range counters. Anti-Domain techniques. She doesn’t need to be strong. She needs to be out of range; a disruptor or a variable. The kind of fighter who doesn’t win through dominance, but through breaking the script.

He can build that.

Another problem is her relevance. Liv can observe, analyze, and run a distraction in a moment’s notice. Her near escapes are still vivid in his memory, a testimony to her glibness and originality in sticky situations. She’s already got an ear in every major city through her spy network. Her title alone rings in the circles of the Great Three and smaller clans. If he brings her in strategically, just visible enough to be noticed, just subtle enough to be underestimated, she might become more than a symbol of pacifist politics. She could become relevant.

She could matter to them.

If the higher-ups see Liv as someone useful, as an asset, the pressure to exterminate the Shuuin will waver. They won’t move against a clan that contributes.

It’s politics - pure and simple.

He rubs a hand down his face. Somewhere in the house, the wind sings against the rafters. He closes his laptop and sets aside his papers. He grabs his glass and heads to the hallway.

Back in their shared room, the door slides open quietly beneath his hand. The room is dim, lit only by the moonlight. The water in the glass is lukewarm now. He sets it on the bedside table.

Liv is lying on her side, one hand curled beneath her cheek, her hair unbound and messy in a way she’d probably hate him seeing. Her breathing is even. She sleeps like someone who can’t afford to let her guard down completely, but almost does anyway. He stares at her for a moment longer than he means to.

He lies beside her.

The sheets are cool. The world is distant. His thoughts still hum, too fast, too sharp, but they quiet at the edges when he feels the dip of the mattress under her slight form. When the warmth of her, steady and stubborn, seeps into him.

Satoru closes his eyes.

He’ll deal with it all later. The training, the mission, and the ticking clock on their political marriage.

Right now, her shoulder’s brushing his, and the night is quiet, and for a brief, precious moment - 

He lets himself rest.

 

///

 

December 1st, 2016. / 06:34 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The scent of antiseptic hits before the door even opens.

It’s still dark when Shoko enters the medical wing. The corridors are quiet, lined with cold white lights that hum like old bones. Her coat is slung over one shoulder, a cup of coffee steaming in her free hand, and her eyes - sharp, tired, ever-watchful - are already scanning the patient list pinned to her wall.

Seven injuries from yesterday’s exercise. Two curse afflictions. One mild possession. One kid who sliced their palm during talisman prep. 

Typical.

She exhales through her nose and pulls on her gloves.

The first hour passes in silence, except for the soft shuffle of slippers across tile and the slow murmur of spellcasting. She seals a gash on a second-year’s thigh with practiced ease, weaving cursed energy in thin, delicate threads while the student grits his teeth and apologizes for being “reckless again.” It is one of Atsuya’s kids. Strange, she thinks. He teaches cowardice.

She doesn’t scold him. 

She doesn’t coddle him either.

Shoko doesn’t deal in comfort. She deals in survival.

By mid-morning, the real work begins.

A new student comes in pale and shaking. Swallowed something during a training exercise. Something alive.

“Cursed tapeworm,” she mutters under her breath as she scans the kid with a glowing slip of paper pressed to his stomach. 

The creature writhes, trying to burrow deeper. 

She keeps prepped talismans in the cabinet for emergencies like these. Normally, getting ingested curses requires surgery. However, that applies only to corpses. For living subjects, rituals are conducted to extract the curse and then exorcise. The problem is, no one likes this one. It hurts going in, and it hurts coming out. But it saves the liver, which is more than she can say for half the kids she used to patch up back in her early years with Satoru and Suguru.

She works in silence, cursing softly in her throat when the seal cracks unevenly. The kid screams once. Then passes out.

She finishes the procedure without flinching.

Lunch never comes. She figures she should be used to it by now, but her stomach begs to differ. Utahime commented on her physique some days ago, noting her lack of ‘hibernation blanket’.

Whatever that means.

Shoko eats half a rice ball while walking to the storage room. She swallows it dry, washing it down with the remnants of her cold coffee.

There’s a request on her desk from another doctor in Kyoto. They’re not particularly talented in using the Reverse Cursed Technique. They’re asking for insights on long-term cursed injuries. She flips through the report, eyebrows arching at the poor suture work in the attached photos. It seems they’re not good at thread and needle.

“They’re gonna get that kid killed,” she mutters.

She writes a correction with red ink. Tucks a packet of healing sutras into the return envelope. There are so few real doctors in this field. So few she can trust.

By evening, the exhaustion clings to her like old smoke. Her coat smells like blood and disinfectant. Her fingers ache from channeling too much energy through too many patients. She’s stitching a third-year’s back when Kinji limps into the room with a black eye and an arm bent the wrong way.

“What the hell happened to you?” she asks.

Being one of Satoru’s top students to date with an exceptional physique, fitting for a man twice his age, getting his arm twisted in such an odd angle must’ve taken quite the effort on the assailant’s part.

“Got in a fight with a curse user,” Kinji says. “You should see the other guy.”

She snorts.

Still, she fixes the arm, uses her good sutures, and sits with him a little longer than necessary while he complains about the smell of compresses and how Satoru is acting lately.

“I think he’s been lonely,” Kinji adds quietly. 

Shoko’s hands pause for a beat.

Then resume.

When the sun is long gone, and the sky has folded into a deep indigo, Shoko finally removes her gloves for the last time.

She walks back to her office and slumps into the chair, pressing her forehead to her desk. The surface is cool. Familiar. Behind her, the shelves are full of records. Students who survived. Students who didn’t. Friends she’s mended. Friends she’s lost.

She doesn’t cry - she never does.

She breathes out slowly, deeply, as though releasing something that’s clawed too long at her ribs.

Then she sits up. 

Tomorrow rolls around, and she starts it all over again.

The coffee tastes like regret.

Shoko doesn’t mind. She drinks it anyway - black, lukewarm, and too bitter for most people, but it keeps her grounded. Keeps her here, in this moment. In the hush of the medical office before the first knock on the door, before the bleeding, before the next kid walks in with a curse curled around their soul like a second skin.

She rolls the mug between her hands, watching the steam dissipate in the morning light.

Outside, nature awakens with the emerging Sun.

Inside, she’s thinking about Liv.

Liv Drakon. Lady Gojo. Mistress of the Shuuin. Spymaster. Political puppet. Political puppeteer. 

Depends on who’s telling the story.

Shoko just remembers a girl with too much sunlight in her eyes.

True, she always sat at the edge of the courtyard like she didn’t belong there, which was probably true. Yet, she laughed easily back then with a mouth full of sharp teeth and joy that made people lean closer just to feel warm for a moment.

She was Satoru’s shadow in some ways. Not like Suguru, though; Suguru balanced Satoru, challenged him. Liv seemed to chip at his hard edge, make him softer, more approachable.

Or maybe Shoko had just imagined that.

Maybe Liv had always been a blade waiting for the right sheath.

She sets the mug down and reaches for her lab coat, running fingers over the sleeve. There’s still blood from yesterday, someone else’s pain pressed into the fabric of her daily life.

She closes her eyes.

Liv, with a braid down her back and smudges of ink on her hands, and laughing in the library.

Liv, throwing a paper talisman at Suguru’s head, cursing in Norwegian.

Liv, standing in the shade beside Satoru, watching everyone with eyes that saw too much.

She opens her eyes again. The woman living in the Shuuin Manor isn’t that girl anymore. That girl’s laugh is replaced with silence. That girl’s warmth has been repurposed into weaponry.

Shoko wonders if she’s gone forever. She doesn’t know what scares her more: the idea that Liv has changed or that she was never truly that girl to begin with.

She sighs, dragging a hand through her hair.

The office is too quiet; her own thoughts too loud.

She thinks of Suguru; always does, when the air turns too still.

There was a time they all sat around a table together. Her. Satoru. Suguru. Liv, too, when she wasn’t ducking into shadows.

Now, it’s just Shoko, at the center of a slowly dying constellation, and she doubts the stars will ever align again.

She picks up the coffee. It is cold - sips it anyway.

Outside, the world moves forward.

Inside, Shoko waits.

The second cup of coffee does nothing.

Shoko leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples as if that’ll press the tired out of her skull. The morning’s been quiet, but she’s learned to distrust quiet. In their world, silence doesn’t mean peace. It means someone’s planning something or dying somewhere out of sight.

The knock comes sharp and solid.

“Come in,” she calls.

Masamichi enters, broad-shouldered and grim as ever. His coat is damp from the walk across the grounds, rain streaking the edges. His face is unreadable, but that’s nothing new.

“What did the geriatrics do now?” she asks without preamble.

He closes the door behind him, lips pressing into a thin line. She guessed correctly, it seems.

“They’ve issued an ultimatum.”

Shoko groans softly, dragging her hands down her face. “To whom?”

“You already know.”

“Of course,” she mutters. “Why threaten anyone when you can just bully them into another corner?”

Masamichi steps further in, setting a sealed folder on her desk. She doesn’t open it. Not yet.

“They want an heir within four months, or they move to formally recognize the Shuuin as a threat to the security of jujutsu society,” he says.

Shoko snorts. “At this point, it is a game of chicken.”

“Agreed.”

Shoko finally opens the folder. Inside are the Council’s signatures, formal language veiled in threat, and Mei Mei’s latest report. Clean and crisp, stamped with approval and iced over with neutrality.

“She was missing for two weeks,” Masamichi adds. “Mei Mei tracked her to the Shuuin Manor, but that’s where she lost trail.”

“Was she alone?”

“As far as we know. She entered the forest with Satoru, Mathias and some spies. All of them returned, except for her.”

Shoko exhales slowly through her nose. She skims the report again, brow furrowing.

“She wasn’t sighted anywhere for thirteen days,” Masamichi continues. “The Council was notified of Mathias’ resignation a day after her return.”

“Reckless.”

“She’s preparing for something,” Masamichi says. “What, I don’t know, but the Council noticed, and their patience is running thin.”

Shoko leans back again, her gaze drifting to the window. Rain clings to the glass like fingerprints. Outside, the world keeps turning.

“You were right,” she mutters. “They will not tell us anything but will expect us to be in their corner.”

Masamichi nods slowly. “Because they’re being attacked from all sides.”

“And she won’t be able to bullshit her way out of this one,” Shoko says solemnly. “Gojo’s hands are tied as well.”

Masamichi doesn’t argue.

“What’s this about a cursed child?” Shoko asks, reviewing the notes section of the report.  

He gives her a long look, then turns to leave. “Satoru is heading out tomorrow. You will inspect the boy if he brings him here.”

“I always do,” she replies. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I know. Also,” he says, lingering at the door, “prepare resuscitation kits in advance, just in case.”

Shoko frowns. “Why?”

Masamichi doesn’t look at her as he answers, “Satoru said Liv will accompany him.”

When the door clicks shut behind him, the silence returns.

Shoko sits for a long moment.

Then she mutters, to no one in particular, “Damn it.”

She taps the report against her desk. There’s no faking her way out of this one. No carefully woven lies. No political sleight of hand. She looks outside her small window, her brows set in a deep frown. 

Darkness looms in the crystal sky, harbinger of foul weather and even fouler luck.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 08:32 / Tokyo, Japan

 

“This is it.”

The air feels oppressive, almost heavy with the unspoken danger they’re about to face. The school appears unassuming, but the underlying current of cursed energy pulses beneath their feet. Sure enough, their target is somewhere within those hallways.

Satoru’s hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his bandages obscuring his sharp, calculating eyes. He’s been in tight spots before, but this feels different. Yuta Okkotsu isn’t just any rogue sorcerer; his cursed energy is far more volatile, a ticking time bomb. 

Liv, walking a few steps behind him, is focused. She’s not the type to show fear or hesitation, but even she can sense the weight of the situation. She has her reasons for wanting to find the boy - reasons she hasn’t fully shared with Satoru, but then again, there are a lot of things Liv keeps hidden from him.

At this point, he sees no progress in making that nuisance any different.

They stop at the entrance to the school, its door half-open, creaking as if in protest. Satoru pauses for a moment, tilting his head toward the building, his expression unreadable.

"The morning classes have already started," he says, his voice low. "The higher-ups said he hardly leaves the premises. My guess, the family doesn’t want him near the house anymore."

“And the school does?”

“No,” Satoru chuckles, “but we’ve asked them to have the boy be present at school. We also promised not to compromise other students and instead get him out peacefully.”

Liv’s eyes narrow as she studies the building. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, but she hides it well, her composure never wavering. She looks to Satoru, her lips curling into a half-smirk, despite the circumstances.

"You sure you can handle this alone?" she teases lightly, but there’s an edge to her words. “The kid might offer resistance, even if we ask him nicely.”

It’s clear she’s not just joking; she’s checking him, gauging how serious he is.

Satoru doesn’t flinch at the bait. Instead, he steps forward, his voice casual but with an underlying intensity that Liv can’t ignore. 

"I can and I will, if need be."

Liv doesn’t respond immediately. She knows the gravity of the situation. 

They enter the school cautiously. It’s quiet, far too quiet for a school at this hour. Liv’s senses adjust to the tranquil, picking up quickly on the slight tremor in the air. The kids, the faculty, and anyone who enters the school’s premises can probably sense it as well.

Fear.

“Class 1-3,” Satoru says, pointing to a nearby corridor.

Liv nods and follows along, keeping up with his long steps. It doesn’t take them long to find the classroom. Rows upon rows of classrooms, filled with uniformed students, all bearing wide-eyed expressions on their faces as they observe them walking in the hallway.

Once in front of the class 1-3, Satoru stops in his tracks. His posture shifts, his hand reaching for the bandage’s knot that rests on the back of his head. Liv’s fingers twitch at her side, but she doesn’t make a move. She waits, watching Satoru’s every action.

He knocks a few times, unwrapping his bandages as he waits for the answer. The door opens, revealing a middle-aged teacher. A kind-faced woman, she quickly notes the oddity of their outfits: Satoru’s dark uniform and half-bandaged eyes, and Liv’s purple kimono over beige suit.

“Hi there! The Public Security must’ve contacted you already,” Satoru explains, per protocol. “I am Satoru Gojo, and this is Liv Drakon. We were hired to investigate the strange incidents that occurred in the past few months.”

The teacher offers a kind smile, nodding her head in agreement. Even so, her discomfort is apparent and in return noticed. She excuses herself from the class, closing the door behind her. She offers a slight bow to the two before urging them to follow her.

A short walk later, she leads them outside and to the track field. A sense of unease reverberates through the field. The couple quickly notices the source of the unease. 

“That’s him,” the teacher says, her tone sharp and full of terribly concealed disdain. “There was an incident shortly before class. I asked him to time out on the bleachers.”

Satoru doesn’t say anything, and Liv nods to the woman, effectively dismissing her. They wait for her to be out of earshot before commenting on the situation in front of them.

“This is just cruel,” Liv frowns, displeased. “No matter what he’s done, this is simply inhumane. He's just a boy.”

Satoru looks at her but says nothing. Instead, he walks toward the bleachers, his hands in his pockets. Liv follows him shortly, keeping a step behind him, more out of respect for him than for safety reasons.

Once near the bleachers, they take in the child’s presence. The overwhelming negativity spreads from him like mold, making it hard to ignore. The boy appears to be tall, if hunched, unkempt, and ragged, his eyes wide and filled with a fear that matches the uncertainty in his energy. He looks like a boy trapped in a nightmare of his own making.

Maybe he is.

Satoru’s voice cuts through the tension. 

"Yuta Okkotsu," he calls out, the name slipping easily off his tongue. 

His presence is commanding, but there’s no arrogance this time - just a quiet warning. 

The boy doesn’t look at them. Instead, he looks in the empty space while hugging his knees.

“Yes,” comes the weak reply.

Satoru looks at Liv again, and she nods in return, letting him approach the boy first. As the metal seats creak under pressure, Yuta’s body stiffens, his eyes widening even more as the realization hits. The cursed energy around him fluctuates, a burst of raw, unrestrained power surging in waves. His hands clench into fists, but there’s no malice in his expression, only confusion and fear.

"No, stay away," Yuta croaks, his voice cracking. "I-I can’t control it. I can’t - you don’t understand.”

Satoru steps forward, his every movement calculated, cautious. The cursed energy around Yuta is chaotic, wild, like a storm ready to consume everything in its path.

“It’s cool, kid,” Satoru says cheerfully.

Liv takes a step closer, too, but she doesn’t approach too fast. Her gaze remains sharp, her body language relaxed but aware of the tension in the air.

“You don’t need to be afraid," she says, her voice soft yet firm, hoping to reach him in a way that Satoru knows he can’t. “We’re here to help you, Yuta.”

Yuta’s head jerks up at the sound of her voice. Onyx eyes stare into the hazel green, and for a second, Liv can’t breathe. She doesn’t know what it is, but she seems to stare into his soul in that moment. His thoughts are a mess of anxiety, self-deprecation, and self-harm. There is no ounce of hope or confidence.

This is no monster.

He trembles, and his next words come out in a rush. “I don’t - I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s too much, it’s all too much! I can’t stop it!”

The air vibrates with a pulse of cursed energy, and Liv can feel the electricity in the air. She stands still, letting the tension build between them, her own cursed energy humming at the edges of her awareness, ready to respond if things go south. He is terrified, and their presence seems to agitate him further.

Satoru doesn’t flinch, though. He stands tall, calm. His bandages, still in place, conceal his eyes.

“Listen, kid,” Satoru says, his voice low but unwavering. "You can trust us. We can help you.”

Yuta looks between them, and for a moment, there’s a dangerous hesitation in the air. The energy around him shifts again, unpredictable. Liv steps forward, her voice cutting through the moment of uncertainty.

“Yuta, please,” she says, her voice as steady as always. 

Then, with a sudden movement, Yuta clenches his fists, a surge of cursed energy rushing outward. The pressure in the room increases, thick, stifling, and for a moment, Liv’s heart races. The energy isn’t aimed at them, but the force of it is enough to send a ripple through the air, distorting the space around them.

Satoru reacts instantly, his fingers snapping as he activates his technique. A barrier forms around them with a hum, protecting them from the uncontrolled burst of cursed energy. But even with his immense power, he doesn’t push forward. He waits.

“Yuta,” Satoru calls out, his voice firm yet still calming. “You need to focus. This isn’t the answer.”

Yuta gasps for breath, shaking his head as the cursed energy around him crackles like electricity. “I can’t! I can’t control it! Please, leave! I don’t want anyone to die!” 

His voice rises with panic, and Liv feels the energy in the room swell in response. It condenses and where it is thickest, appendages resembling arms and hands emerge. A grotesque figure with jagged teeth looms over the boy’s shoulder, its claws directed at the couple.

“Rika, no!”

“You are bad people,” the curse shrieks, its voice feminine and childish. “I won’t let you hurt Yuta!”

It lifts its fist and slams it against Satoru’s Infinity. It doesn’t breach the barrier, something which confuses the curse for a brief moment.

“That’s something you don’t see every day,” Satoru mutters offhandedly. 

Liv silently agrees.

Chapter 16: Darling, Give Me Your Heart

December 3rd, 2016. / 08:40 / Tokyo, Japan

 

The veil of cursed energy settles like snowfall, silent, opaque, and precise. Liv watches the edges of Satoru’s barrier ripple around them, a dome of shimmering blue barely visible to the untrained eye. The outside world blurs, cars slow, pedestrians drift away, minds nudged just enough to look elsewhere.

Yuta stands at the center, trembling. His curse screams overhead, its arms stretched protectively over the boy. 

Satoru cracks his neck.

“I’ll handle this clean,” he mutters, fingers twitching with restraint.

“Don’t,” Liv says sharply.

His obscured gaze flickers to her for a brief moment. “Liv - “ 

Her voice is low but clear, like frost spreading across glass, “You’ll only provoke it.”

Yuta’s curse lashes again, ripping into a lamppost with claws. Sparks fly, metal groans. The boy whimpers, hands over his ears, tears streaking down his cheeks. The curse emits a low keening sound. Not quite a scream. Not quite human. Yuta’s fingers twitch, grasping at nothing. His mouth moves, but no words escape. A phantom sob catches in his throat.

“He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, yet expects to be hurt anyway,” Liv says. “The curse is not malicious.”

“Tell that to the lamppost,” Satoru says, mouth twitching in that barely-there smirk she once found comforting.

“You said you wouldn’t break anything,” she snaps.

“I said I’d handle it clean. You’re the one stalling.”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she steps forward, toward the curse. Satoru’s presence materializes beside her in the next breath, hands in his pockets, the tilt of his shoulders loose and easy. She knows that posture. Every nerve in him is wired to snap into motion. His mouth curls into a crooked half-smile.

“Liv - ” Satoru starts, but she raises a hand. 

Silence settles between them.

She focuses on the curse, trying to reach into its mind. A curse's thoughts are much simpler than humans’, yet more difficult to tap into, especially mid-battle. They embody negative emotions. Thoughts are laid bare, so digging any deeper is almost pointless. Realizing this curse is no different, Liv focuses on the boy.

Yuta’s mind is a cacophony of guilt. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. For a moment, she remembers her niece. Shaking her head, Liv pushes away intrusive thoughts. Yuta cries out, and the curse follows suit, its shriek glass-shattering as it bounces off the barrier.

“Liv, get back,” she hears Satoru call out from behind.

She doesn’t turn around. Instead, she notes that Yuta’s lips move. They’re initially trembling, rendering any possible words incoherent until Liv hears clear vowels escape his throat.

“Rika, please.”

The curse hesitates, only for a moment. It glances at the boy. Liv takes a tentative step forward, much to her husband’s words of caution. Her actions don’t go unnoticed for long as the curse lashes out at her again.

“I won’t let you near Yuta,” it seethes, its teeth bare.

Yuta whimpers, his hands stretched out toward the towering spirit. “Rika, stop!”

Liv’s eyes widen. Shit. She turns toward Satoru, but he appears unfazed. His thoughts remain calm as well. 

She focuses on the boy again, her hands lifted in a submissive manner.

“Yuta,” she says softly, taking another step forward.

The curse snarls, a warning. The boy hiccups, shaking his head as if to discourage her from approaching. Liv holds her ground.

“I mean you no harm,” she says, recalling his haphazard thoughts. “I know you mean me no harm.”

Yuta’s eyes widen. The curse stutters, just a beat.

Satoru watches, his posture tense. His hands twitch with the need to intervene, but he doesn’t. Instead, he remains vigilant, prepared to act when she changes her mind.

Liv silently reprimands him, secretly allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

She takes a deep breath before taking another step, her eyes on the curse. “You believe you’re  protecting him, Rika, but you are hurting him more - ”

The curse lunges.

Satoru moves, but Liv is faster. She jumps onto the bleachers behind Yuta. She hugs the boy, her right hand over his eyes and the other over his heart. Rika’s hand hovers over Satoru, which is kept in place by Infinity. Satoru keeps the curse in place with Blue while Liv tries to calm down the boy.

“Easy, easy,” she whispers as Yuta struggles against her. “Listen to me - “

“No, no,” he thrashes. “ Please, she will hurt you - “

“Yuta,” Liv snaps slightly, tightening her grip. “Listen.”

He breathes, listening. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. His chest rises and falls, the rhythm evening out and slowing down. Rika shrieks, calling out to the boy. Tear-stained cheeks are dry for the moment, and his lips relax.

“Calm your mind,” Liv says softly, drawing lazy circles above his heart.

“But I,” he whimpers, biting his lip. “I don’t know how.”

Liv hums, resting her head above his. “Try.” 

Yuta swallows and nods, taking another deep breath. He slowly relaxes in her arms, but Rika remains. She seethes and thrashes and throws punches. Liv holds the boy closer to her bosom, hoping the proximity and warmth will soothe his anxiety. However, time passes, and Rika is still aggressive. 

Closing her eyes, Liv murmurs an enchantment. The sound is unearthly; a lullaby, yet the comfort is absent from its tune. Each vowel rolls off her tongue like honey, but the melody carries a sense of melancholy and dread.

The curse halts mid-charge, then trembles and folds.

Liv continues her song, its tone echoing within the confines of the barrier. Rika breathes, a hollow groan escaping her throat as she rests on the ground. 

Satoru watches cautiously as Liv seemingly sings the curse into oblivion. He knows galdr can be sung, but he didn’t expect it to be so enticing. If it weren’t for the Infinity wrapped around his entire body, he’d be lulled to sleep along with Yuta.

Moments pass, and the boy rests in her arms. Rika soon flutters into nothingness, and Yuta falls unconscious in Liv’s arms. Her voice mellows as the song ends on a dissonant note.

Satoru is already beside her, arms half-outstretched, unsure if he’s allowed to touch her. She doesn’t lean in but doesn’t pull away.

“You should’ve let me handle it,” he says finally.

“You would’ve shattered him,” she replies.

They look at Yuta. He is curled in her lap, his cheek resting against her chest. 

“We still have to bring him in,” Satoru says.

“I know,” she murmurs, leaning into the boy's warmth without meaning to. 

Liv’s head tips slightly, eyes half-lidded. For a few minutes more, the three of them remain in silence, held inside a barrier not even cursed energy could quite break.

The field is quiet now.

Only the smoke curling from the fractured earth, and the low hum of the barrier beginning to unravel.

Liv suddenly speaks again, “What did we just see, Satoru?”

Satoru doesn’t answer right away. His hands rest on his hips. His cursed energy coils low and still, like smoke after fire.

They stand in silence for a few more seconds. Then Liv says it aloud, the theory that’s been forming at the edge of her mind since Yuta’s voice cracked with the curse’s name.

“She’s bound to him.”

He takes a breath and sits next to her. He leans forward, elbows on knees, gaze distant.

“Yeah,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Liv speaks slowly. “The old bags won’t understand.”

Satoru looks at the boy, saying, “True. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

She shakes her head. “Me neither.”

He glances at her. “You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she replies. “I’m intrigued. So much of this makes no sense.”

They both glance toward Yuta. He hasn’t stirred. His hands twitch slightly in his sleep, as though chasing something just out of reach.

Satoru stands, then dusts off his hands.

“I’ll call Ijichi to pick us up.”

Liv’s jaw tightens. Satoru sighs.

“Think we can make sense of it?”

She glances at Yuta one last time.

“I think,” she says, cradling the boy’s pale face in her palm, “he’s worth the try.”

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 09:00 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Tove treads the cold wooden floors slowly, her bare feet patting a rhythmic sound that seems too loud in the stillness.

She stands in the main hall for a moment, her dark eyes sweeping over the vast space. The once grand tapestries that adorned the walls now seem faded, their vibrancy muted by time. Candlelight is extinguished, essence turned to ash days ago, and the ancestral tablets remain poised on their pedestals, a faint reminder of those that came before.

The memory of the wedding day flits through her mind: the opulence, the guests, the sounds of laughter, and the promises made under the weight of expectation. The union between Liv Drakon and Satoru Gojo had been a spectacle, a marriage that represented the intertwining of two powerful factions. It had filled the Manor with life, excitement, and hope.

That was before Mathias had left. The Shuuin, once a quiet force in the shadows, is now adrift. Tove isn’t sure where it is headed anymore.

She runs a hand through her hair, her expression unreadable, but a faint weariness lingers in the lines of her face. She had escorted Mathias to the airport just this morning. It had been a quiet, almost peaceful departure. Now, with him gone, Tove feels the full gravity of his absence.

She moves through the Manor. The world is changing. The Shuuin, despite their secrets and careful political plays, are unraveling. 

Would the Manor ever be full again? Would the halls be filled with the same bustling energy as they had been that day? The thought lingers, hanging heavily in the air.

A voice breaks through her thoughts, a young woman’s voice, clear and confident, though with a hint of concern.

“Tove?”

She turns sharply, her sharp gaze falling on the figure standing at the edge of the hallway. Rune’s presence is a stark contrast to the stillness that envelops the Manor.

“What is it, Rune?” Tove asks, her tone soft but laced with an unmistakable weariness.

Rune’s eyes narrow, and she tilts her head slightly. “You’ve been out here for hours. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tove exhales slowly, letting the weight of her thoughts drift away like smoke. "I'm fine, Rune. Just thinking." 

Rune steps closer, her footsteps light and deliberate, as though she’s trying not to disturb Tove’s fragile calm. She looks around the Manor, her gaze lingering on the empty walls, on the hollow spaces that once resonated with power.

“What are our orders?” she asks softly.

Tove presses her lips, taking a deep breath. She turns around, looking at the courtyard and main hall ahead. 

“She’s assisting Gojo with his mission,” the spymaster says, folding her arms. “For now, we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Tove smiles at the redhead. “For our mistress to come home.”

Same story, over and over again. Rune nods, dejected but understanding. 

“Her brother left, and she barely bats an eye,” the young woman mutters, pursing her lips into a pout. 

Tove chuckles. “Did you expect her to cry?”

Rune sniffles. “She could’ve gone drinking with us.”

The spymaster rests her hand at the crown of Rune’s head, ruffling it gently. “That’s not how she deals with pain.”

“She doesn’t deal with it at all,” Rune mutters, a lonesome tear trickling down her cheek before she brushes it away quickly.

Tove’s grin falters as she hugs the other woman, holding her close. They watch the courtyard in silence, each lost in their private thoughts. The weight of their duty has never felt as unbearable as it is now.

Within the confines of the Manor, they allow themselves to feel grief and frustration, however brief.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 09:40 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

Deep beneath the frostbitten earth, the compound is hushed and cavernous, the air thick with damp stone and the faintest trace of medicinal herbs. Time feels different here - slower, as if even seconds fear disturbing what sleeps in this place.

The last time Mathias was here, he had parted ways with Nove, promising to return once his work was done. He can still recall the expression on her face before he turned his back on her; he felt utter betrayal, disbelief, and heartbreak. There is no greater pain for a parent than to be the source of their child’s pain.

No more, he silently promises as the door to the compound opens. There are no sorcerers from the south in this wasteland; no one who could report back to the higher-ups that a powerful sorcerer is being kept in secret by the Ainu as a favor to the Shuuin. The friendship between the two factions is as long-standing as it is disbalanced in power; Ainu outnumber the Shuuin three-to-one. Nonetheless, Liv secured a steady agreement with the Ainu society to keep Nova safe for the rest of her life.

Mathias steps through the final corridor, boots leaving melted prints in the frost-laced tiles. His coat still carries the sting of the outside, snow clinging to the seams, his pale hair damp from the long ascent. The guards don’t speak to him; they never do. 

Their eyes follow him all the same.

Despite being so far away from Tokyo, prejudice follows. Power is feared, and strength is apprehended, especially strength that exceeds reason and logic. Nova’s presence is as agitating as that of Satoru Gojo. However, Satoru effortlessly flaunts his power, whereas the young Shuuin can barely leave her room without causing a time rift. 

Mathias halts his step briefly. At the far end of the chamber sits his daughter, a figure carved in light and shadow. Her white hair glows like moonlit frost, and her skin is the soft, strange translucence of something not fully bound to this century.

She doesn’t look up - she already noticed his presence.

“Darling,” he says softly.

“You’re late,” Nova says, voice cool and low, a whisper cut from glass.

Mathias kneels before her, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and guilt. For years, he longed to see his child, hold her, raise her. He looked forward to the day when he’d finally keep his promise.

Still, he doesn’t blame her for being jaded and distant. She has every right to be.

“I came as fast as I could.”

“You could’ve sent a message ahead," she murmurs, still not meeting his eyes. 

He winces.

She fingers the edge of a rune-stitched blanket, one gifted to her by her mother years ago. It’s rough-woven and warm, but she holds it like it’s foreign.

“Since you’re here,” she whispers, “it’s done.”

Mathias lets out a breath, eyes drifting to the cracks in the stone floor. “It’s done.”

Nova’s eyes glitter. “The Shuuin are free.”

He nods faintly.

Nova clutches the blanket. Her next question comes like the snap of dry twigs.

“What about me?”

Mathias stills.

Nova leans back against the wall, staring at the hastily-drawn mural above. A wolf bares its teeth at the moon. The Ainu don’t allow her to keep memorabilia. Everything she has, she doesn’t hold dear to her heart. The mural will be cleaned soon as well.

Shame; it is pretty.

“I want to go back,” she says. “I want to go home.”

He keeps his eyes on her face, his chest hollowing.

“You can’t, Nova.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Nova’s lip trembles, just once.

“I’m getting better.”

Mathias sighs, closing his eyes. “We already talked about this, darling. If word got out about your abilities, you’d be killed or worse, you’d become a weapon for - ”

“I already am a weapon!” she snaps, standing so fast the blanket falls from her shoulders. 

“You’re safe here.”

“I’m alone here.”

Mathias rises too, slower, heavier. “If I could take this from you, I would. If I could trade your abilities for your freedom - ”

“But you can’t,” she says. 

Her voice is breaking now, trembling beneath the rage. She takes a step back, and then another. Her shadow flickers strangely against the wall, lagging behind her body, then snapping back into place like a marionette yanked on invisible strings.

“Leave.”

“Nova - ”

“Get out.”

He doesn’t try to touch her. Doesn’t beg. He knows better.

Mathias turns and walks toward the stone door. Behind him, time hiccups. The shadows stretch longer. The cold deepens. For a single breath, the world forgets how to move.

And then, the door closes. 

Nova sits on the edge of her cot, knees drawn to her chest, the blanket she’s outgrown tangled beneath her. Her hands are clenched in her sleeves, white-knuckled, as if that will keep the power in.

It doesn’t.

A low shimmer pulses under her skin. Not light, something stranger. The edges of her body are wrong, like they’re in two places at once. Her left foot tingles; her right feels a full second behind the rest of her.

She breathes shallowly, afraid that a deep breath will unmake her. 

She wants to run. Wants to open a door and be somewhere else.

That should be easy, shouldn’t it?

She closes her eyes and focuses. There is something inside her, vast and untethered - a chasm where time does not behave. She  ows she can reach it, it’s there , like dipping her fingers into the surface of a frozen lake.

Just like we practiced.

At first, nothing happens. The tension builds, heat pooling at the base of her spine, pressure behind her eyes. Her ears pop. Her fingers twitch uncontrollably.

Then the world trembles, just slightly - like a skipped heartbeat. The cot beneath her flickers, vanishes for a blink, then returns. The air warps; her vision doubles. One version of the room is just ahead of the other, like a lagging echo. She tries to focus, to grab he thread.

She’s slipping. Faster now.

Her breathing stutters. One version of her chest rises, the other does not. Her hands blur. She feels her heart beat out of sync - one thud here, the other lost in the fold.

No, no, no -

Time is a spiral around her, closing fast.

And then - it collapses.

The compound slams back into itself like a trap snapping shut.

Nova crashes to the stone floor, gasping. Blood trickles from her nose. Her hands are burned - frostbite, and yet her skin steams. The air smells scorched and sour. One of the lamps on the wall has shattered.

Her body convulses once before it stills. She blinks up at the ceiling. The mural above her cot - the wolf chasing the moon - has cracked straight down the middle.

“I can’t,” she whispers.

The shame is a fresh wound. She tried - tried - and still, she’s just a girl in a locked room, held together by borrowed time.

Tears sting her eyes, but she bites them back. She won’t cry, won’t call for help. Let the walls whisper. Let the guards wait. She curls on her side, trembling.

Above her, the clock resumes ticking, like nothing happened.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 10:11 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The tension in the room is thick, filled with elders, most of them stone-faced, their expressions carved from decades of rigid protocol. Their voices are low, sharp-edged, and their collective gaze lands first on Satoru, then on Liv, who stands a little farther back.

Yuta Okkotsu is held in the high-security chamber beneath the school, heavily guarded, under watch by those who seem more interested in making sure he doesn’t escape than actually helping him. The whispers around his name have intensified - dark, dangerous rumors about a boy who can bring curses to life with nothing but a touch. The murmurs from the higher-ups have long turned to talk of control, containment, and disposal.

It’s only a matter of time before they decide how to handle him.

Satoru crosses his arms and leans against the back wall. He can already feel the heat of their disapproval.

“You turned to me for assistance,” he says. “This is what I propose we do. What’s the problem now?”

“We cannot allow the boy to remain on the school’s premises indefinitely while you figure him out,” one of the elders says. “It’s clear he’s unstable. His curse was uncontrollable.”

Satoru grits his teeth. “Uncontrollable until he was confronted.”

“That’s beside the point,” another elder interrupts. “The boy is far too dangerous. We cannot let a cursed spirit like that live, especially not after what happened in that school.”

Liv steps forward slightly, her posture measured but unwavering. “You’re all speaking about him as though he’s a thing, not a person.”

The room falls silent. A few glances are exchanged.

“He’s not just a boy,” one of the elders says, voice sharp. “He’s a walking catastrophe.”

Satoru shifts, his lips curling into a faint smile, though it’s far from amused. He knows exactly where this conversation is heading and steps into the conversation with a calm authority.

“You're still missing something,” Satoru says.

The old man’s glare sharpens. “And what would that be, Gojo?”

Satoru tilts his head, unfurling his arms slowly, locking eyes with him. “Considering what both Liv and I witnessed, we have a sound reason to believe that Yuta Okkotsu may possess talent for sorcery. If we figure out how he ended up in this predicament, we might be able to train him properly.”

He glances at Liv, his expression unreadable. She catches his gaze and doesn’t flinch.

The elder scoffs. “So now you’re suggesting we coddle him? Let him grow into a monster while we wait for him to have some kind of epiphany?”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. He’s used to being underestimated.

“I’m not suggesting coddling,” he says. “I’m suggesting a thorough inspection by someone with the largest written archive on theoretical understanding of cursed energy at their disposal.”

The room goes silent again. Satoru looks over his shoulder, his gaze falling on his wife. The Shuuin mistress doesn’t notice the weight of his words until the elders stare at her as well.

Liv raises an eyebrow, her gaze flickering from Satoru to the Council. Her husband hums, not hiding his coy smile. 

“The Shuuin are known for their esoteric approach to cursed energy,” Satoru notes offhandedly. “Liv herself has a knack for the curiosities and mysteries. I say we let her handle the boy. He responds positively to her as well.”

The elders frown as one of them asks, “You want us to trust her with this mission?”

Satoru chuckles softly, a flicker of something darker behind his eyes. “I trust her, and you have no choice but to trust me.”

There’s a shift in the room. 

“Fine," the elder sighs, “but if she doesn’t succeed - ”

“If Liv doesn’t succeed,” Satoru cuts in smoothly, “then I’ll handle it. Until then, I’m willing to bet on her.”

A heavy silence stretches. The elders are exchanging looks, murmuring under their breath. They can’t afford to make a mistake. For the first time in a long while, they realize that Satoru Gojo is the one who has the most experience in dealing with cursed energy that doesn’t follow the rules.

They don’t want to admit it, yet the situation is clear to them.

“You have until tomorrow to make progress,” the old bag says, his tone cold and condescending. “If we don’t see results, we’ll reconsider your approach.”

Liv’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Tomorrow?! The boy is exhausted!”

“Enough of this,” the elder snaps. “This is Gojo’s assignment in the first place. You have a more pressing matter to handle, or have you forgotten? We’re all keen to see that the future heirs of the Gojo name arrive on schedule.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t respond, but Liv feels the shift in the air. The undercurrent of disdain, the way they are reduced to mere breeders in the eyes of these people. 

She speaks up before Satoru can, her voice calm but every word cutting through the room, “It’s only been a few days since we had this conversation.”

The elder’s sharp gaze narrows, eyes flashing with impatience. "We will bring it up however many times it’s necessary until you bring in results. Yuta Okkotsu will be judged and trialed accordingly, regardless of your progress with him."

His words hit like a cold slap. 

“Your concern should be the boy,” Liv mutters, shaking her head. “Mark my words.”

She stands beside Satoru. The cold silence stretches between them and the higher-ups as they exit the room, their words still hanging in the air like a lingering, unspoken threat.

The silence in the hallway is almost suffocating as the heavy doors to the higher-ups’ chamber close behind them. The sound of footsteps on polished floors is the only noise between Liv and Satoru, who walks ahead of her, the weight of the meeting hanging over them both.

Liv’s mind churns with the exchange that just took place. Satoru could have taken charge. He did take charge earlier, but then he made a deliberate choice.

She catches up to him as they pass through the long corridors of Jujutsu High, heading toward the room where Yuta is being held. The air is thick with unspoken words, with the heavy expectation of what’s to come. Yet, for all of Satoru’s overwhelming presence, he seems lost in thought.

Liv watches him for a moment, assessing the set of his shoulders, the way his fingers lightly trace the edges of his bandages.

“Why did you do that?” Her voice is quiet but sharp with curiosity.

Satoru doesn’t respond immediately. His hand goes to the back of his neck, a familiar gesture, and he pauses in front of the door leading to the holding room. He faces her, his shrouded eyes giving nothing away. However, the slight crease in his brow tells her he’s not as carefree as he likes to appear.

He shrugs, then looks down, his expression unreadable.

“You’re better at it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Better at what?”

“Espionage, subterfuge, whatever you like to call that thing you do,” he replies, the casual tone attempting to mask something else. “You get into people’s heads. I can’t do that the same way. And with him, that’s going to matter. We need to understand his bond with Rika and why it is the way it is.”

Liv takes a slow breath. 

“So, you trust me?” she asks, the words floating in the quiet, unspoken undercurrent between them.

Satoru doesn’t flinch. There’s a moment of stillness between them, where the weight of that question hangs in the air.

“I trust you more than you know,” he replies quietly, the usual bravado gone from his tone.

She doesn’t know how to respond to him. Instead, she turns her gaze toward the door where Yuta is being held. 

“I won’t let you down,” she says, voice low. “I won’t let him down.”

Satoru nods, his expression tight. “I know you won’t.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air. He steps closer, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek with a motion too brief to be tender.

He takes her hands into his, playing with the wedding rings on her right hand. The blue engagement ring stands out.

“Ready?” he asks, his gaze glued to the blue ring.

She smiles and takes his hands into hers. The last time she held his hands like this was at their wedding.

Why does it feel like it was years ago? She wonders inwardly, before letting go of him. Satoru hides his hands inside his pockets, while Liv crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Yeah,” she says softly before nodding toward the door. 

Sighing, he complies, grabbing the handle. Before entering, he glances at her one last time. 

“Something wrong?” she asks when he says nothing for a while.

He shakes his head. “I just like looking at you.”

She watches in disbelief as he enters the room, a smug smirk plastered across the lower half of his face. Feeling feverish, she touches her cheek. It is warm, and as she notes her bashfulness, it gets even warmer.

Shaking her head, she pushes the intrusive thoughts away before opening the door and joining her husband inside.

Chapter 17: Rainfall, Thunderstorm

December 3rd, 2016. / 11:20 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Yuta shrinks once the spouses enter. 

His hands grip the edge of the bed too tightly. His nails are bitten raw. He’s still in his uniform, which is hanging awkwardly on his frame. Malnourishment and lack of sleep are evident on his face. His personal belongings have already been confiscated for inspection, so apart from his clothes and shoes, he’s got nothing else on him.

Liv takes a deep breath as she kneels before Yuta, her hands in her lap. He hides his face in his knees, refusing to look at her, much less approach her. Satoru stands behind her, his bandages hiding a pair of cautious eyes. 

“Satoru,” she says softly as the boy leans away, “maybe we should - “

“Maybe we should,” he says, seemingly reading her mind, “but we don’t have the time.”

Swallowing thickly, she takes a deep breath. She puts on a kind smile, the kindest she can muster, before trying to look Yuta in the eyes.

“We didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves properly,” she says. “I am Liv Drakon. This is Satoru Gojo.”

She looks over her shoulder, and Satoru salutes the boy casually.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he says with a jolly voice. “This is standard procedure, so bear with us.”

“We’d like to know what happened to you, Yuta,” Liv continues. 

The boy is silent. His brows furrow, and he shakes his head slightly. It doesn’t take a mind reader to figure out what the boy is thinking about.

Liv tries again, nonetheless, “I know you’re terrified, and I get it, but you can’t stay in this room forever, nor can you go back outside with Rika.”

At this, Yuta looks her dead in the eye and says, “You should kill me.”

Silence fills the room. Liv’s kind smile falters while Satoru frowns beneath his bandages.

“Kind of dark,” Satoru comments, and Liv glares at him sharply.

“I tried to kill myself many times,” Yuta says, looking down and hugging his knees. “Rika wouldn’t let me. She’d either break the knives or cushion my fall.”

“That’s nice of her, don’t you think?” Liv muses out loud. “She keeps you safe, even from yourself.”

The boy’s resolve falters ever so slightly as he looks at the woman before him in astonishment. He either never thought of his companion in such a way, or the possibility of it is too improbable in his eyes.

Either way, he switches back quickly into his brooding melancholy.

Pouting her lips, Liv tries a different approach. “You know, I was once detained in this same chamber. I was a bit older than you.”

Yuta listens, but he doesn’t look too invested. She continues regardless.

“At the time, a friend of mine committed a crime. The people in charge believed I was conspiring with him,” Liv says softly, the memory fresh in her mind as if it had happened yesterday. “I begged them, insisted that there was a mistake, all in efforts to clear his name, but apparently, that made me a conspirator. I was kept here for a week before being sentenced to death.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are wide with curiosity, expectantly waiting for her to continue. Unknown to her, Satoru is also heavily invested in her story. 

Liv smiles, looking around the room. “I don’t know how or why, but one day, my mother came and told me I’m free to go.”

Yuta makes no sound, merely nods in acknowledgment. He remains quiet for a while, and Liv doesn’t pressure him. Satoru, however, seems lost in thought as he glances away from his wife.

“I know what it’s like to have no control over your life,” she says, leaning toward the boy slightly while keeping a distance. “That doesn’t mean you should give up on it.”

He understands; she knows that much. His thoughts betray as much. However, he isn’t doubtful of her or her words.

“I can’t be trusted,” he says, his voice breaking but resolute. 

“Yuta - “

“I can’t live anymore, miss,” the boy says through a sad smile. “I’ve hurt so many people. Why should I live?”

Liv frowns. “You want to die?”

The boy nods firmly. 

She watches him for a long moment before she stands. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that we don’t always get what we want.”

Satoru's mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but doesn't. 

With a heavy step, Liv turns on her heel and heads to the door. Satoru reaches for the knob, about to open it for her. She halts a step away from him, looking over her shoulder. Yuta is hunched over, hiding his face in his palms. She shakes her head and steps outside.

When they leave the room, Liv doesn’t speak for a long time. Satoru doesn’t force her to. They make their way through the cold corridor and outside the building, walking further away from the guardsmen stationed at the entrance. Although they are not heading in any particular direction, Satoru notes she’s heading toward the main gate.

“He’s not going to help us,” she says finally.

“Seems so,” Satoru replies, his voice light but not flippant.

They walk out into the courtyard, where the fog has begun to burn away under a reluctant sun. Liv closes her eyes against the brightness.

“The boy might’ve given up, but we can’t,” she murmurs. “I think I might know someone who can help us. I’ll also send word to my allies and cousins, find out if they know of any similar cases.”

Satoru stretches, the movement lazy. He tugs his coat tighter against the breeze. 

“I’ll investigate his background,” he says. “Family, old classmates, anyone who knows him.”

She simply nods in response. Before she can turn her back on him, Satoru calls out to her. Halting her step, she looks at him with raised eyebrows, expectantly.

He tilts his head back toward the sun. “You’re too emotional. Don’t get attached to the kid. The sad ones are the most dangerous.”

She lifts a brow. “Speaking from experience?”

There’s a beat of silence. A faint grin tugs at Satoru’s mouth, quick as lightning and gone just as fast. He takes a few tentative steps before bending at the waist and kissing her cheek. Slight blush colors her otherwise pale cheeks.

“I’ll call you,” he whispers, striding in the opposite direction, hands in his pockets.

Liv watches him go, something aching behind her ribs. She turns toward the exit, mind already shifting focus to work. Reaching for her phone, she quickly dials Tove’s number. A few rings go by before the spymaster picks up.

“Liv?” she asks from the other side. “What ha - ?”

“Reach out to everyone,” Liv says curtly. “Ask for incidents of bonding between cursed spirits and humans, sorcerers or otherwise.”

“Sure, but what’s going on?” Tove asks. 

“Jujutsu business,” Liv responds curtly again. “I need information, and I need it by tomorrow.”

Short silence follows.

Liv chuckles. “It's all good, Tove.”

“Copy that,” the spymaster says weakly before hanging up.

Rushing down the long staircase, Liv dashes down the mountain, her feet carrying her as quickly as they can.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 12:40 / Zen’in Compound, Gunma Prefecture, Japan

 

The Zenin compound breathes with quiet authority, its corridors narrow and deliberate, steeped in tradition and shadows. Afternoon light slants through paper-shoji panels, painting pale streaks across the polished wooden floor. Dust hangs in the stillness like unmoved time.

Maki walks with practiced silence, her steps measured and light. She carries no weapons; not because she doesn't want them, but because they’ve been taken again, locked away by those who insist she doesn’t deserve them. Her palms still bear faint calluses from the polearm she trains with in secret, the only proof she is more than what they let her be.

A low murmur halts her mid-step. Just ahead, by the storeroom’s sliding door, two clan stewards lean close in conversation. Their backs are turned, but their voices carry, low and thick with disdain. Maki presses herself into the wall’s edge, letting the silence drape over her like a second skin.

The words are fractured by the wooden lattice, but clear enough. They speak of a woman held at the school, of unrest tightening its grip around the higher-ups. The Shuuin mistress, they call her. Not with respect, though. Maki recognizes that tone, heavily acquainted with its sound and meaning.

Ostracized. They talk some more, their words curses as vile as they can be. This woman, this Shuuin, has returned after many years. She is not revered, only remembered, bitterly, for the balance she disrupted. Yet, she lives at the heart of it still, by the side of the strongest sorcerer alive.

The conversation tentatively fades. The stewards vanish into the quiet again. The name clings to Maki’s ribs like smoke - Shuuin. A woman branded unfit for the system, yet still moving through it with strength the elders can’t extinguish.

Maki’s throat tightens. For so long, she thought her path was hers alone, carved in isolation and futility. 

It feels so close, so real.

She doesn’t hear Naoya approach.

His footsteps fall too softly, his presence louder than sound. He rounds the corner and stops when he sees her, as if fate delights in ruining moments of clarity.

He doesn’t speak right away. He doesn’t need to. His grin spreads like rot, curling at the edges with lewd amusement. His gaze traces her posture, her silence, lingering too long.

Maki doesn’t move, not even flinch. She keeps her breath measured, her fists at her sides.

Naoya leaves, eventually. His voice, thick with contempt, echoes behind him like oil slicked across water. She doesn’t remember the words. They’re all the same: belittlement dressed in silk. Another reminder that this place was built to suffocate her.

But this time, the weight of his presence doesn’t press her down. It strikes flint against something buried.

Maki breathes out, long and slow. The compound feels smaller now, almost fragile.

She turns from the corridor, already moving.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 13:19 / Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan

 

The shop is small, barely the width of a train car, nestled between a karaoke bar and an abandoned laundromat off a backstreet in Shibuya. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, flickering like they’re on the edge of burnout. The air smells of old tatami, soy broth, and the faint bite of rain-soaked concrete. Outside, the night is loud and chaotic. In here, it’s too quiet.

Yuki Tsukumo sits cross-legged at a low wooden table tucked in the corner of the shop, her long coat bunched at her hips, one sandal half-dangling off her foot. A pot of over-steeped tea rests nearby, untouched. The old shogi board in front of her is worn, the lacquer chipped away from years of use. The pieces are set mid-game, tilted, chaotic, and absolutely damning.

She’s losing spectacularly.

Her king is cornered, and the only thing standing between him and an irreversible checkmate is a single bishop trembling at the edge of the board. 

“You’ve gotten better,” she says brightly, leaning back as if she’s admiring the game rather than barely holding on. 

Her fingers hover above a pawn. She doesn’t move it.

Across from her, a middle-aged man in a wool beanie and mirrored sunglasses leans forward with lazy precision. His nails are ink-stained, his smile a little too pleased. 

“You sure you know the rules, miss?” he asks, tapping his bishop forward like he’s painting a stroke on a canvas.

Yuki grins, wide and unconcerned. 

“Rules are just someone else’s idea of fun,” she says lightly. 

She hums as she moves a silver general, knowingly walking into a trap. Her eyes don’t follow the piece. Through the thin shop walls, Yuki hears every drop of the world outside: a teenage couple arguing in front of the ramen stand; the quick shuffle of a jujutsu agent tailing someone too loudly.

Two levels up, someone whispers, barely audible to anyone else, but to Yuki, it might as well be shouted. A curse user asking too many questions about soul research. She files it away. Five meters to her right, a pair of curses scrape their claws along stone, murmuring in a dialect thought long extinct. She hears a word - 

Shuuin.

That catches her attention more than the board. Her eyes don’t narrow, but her next move is a mistake on purpose. The informant grins wider.

The game is bait.

Her senses stretch further, tuning out the game’s tension for the electric tremble behind her. A shift in air pressure. A faint perfume. Her lips curl into a smile. 

“Well,” she says aloud to no one in particular, “aren’t you a quiet one?”

The old shopkeeper shuffles past them with a tray of mochi, muttering to himself about bad weather and tighter curfews. Yuki gives him a wink. He’s a harmless old curse relic with a talent for forgetting faces, but even he goes quiet as the air in the room shifts.

Yuki doesn’t look up, but her posture changes just enough. A tilt of the head, a shift of breath. Her instincts prick. Someone just walked through the beaded curtain at the back of the shop.

She feels her before she hears her.

Behind her, Liv’s feet whisper against stone. 

Yuki doesn’t turn, not yet. She lets her next piece fall, sacrificing a knight, the clatter masking the flutter of tension in the room.

"Still playing with dead pieces, Yuki?"

The informant stiffens.

The voice is soft, amused. Liv steps into view from the gloom of the shop’s storage corridor, her presence too composed for this crumbling hole-in-the-wall. She wears a familiar purple kimono, making her stand out even more than she already does as a half-breed. Her posture is effortless and commanding, the kind Yuki didn’t get a chance to witness often.

Yuki lets out a low whistle. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“I had to work hard to track you down,” Liv sighs, crossing her arms. “I see your affinity for small run-down establishments full of shady company is ever-present.”

The man across from her stiffens slightly but says nothing. Even he knows better than to interrupt this.

Liv’s eyes flick to the shogi board, then to Yuki. “Losing.”

“Strategically,” Yuki replies, leaning back. “I like to dance before I strike. Sound familiar?”

Liv doesn’t smile. She glides forward, taking in the board, the shop, and the old camera above the register that doesn’t work. Liv is dissecting the scene, reading every sign, every shadow. Yuki is doing the same.

Liv stops just behind Yuki, close enough that her breath might stir strands of hair near Yuki’s ear.

“Still pretending to lose games you already solved?” she asks, voice velvet-wrapped steel.

Yuki finally turns her head, eyes glittering with unspoken games. “Only when I need to make someone talk.” 

Her gaze cuts briefly to the informant, who has suddenly gone far too quiet.

“For what it's worth,” Yuki adds, standing slowly, "I'm glad to see you." 

She towers in presence now, the playful demeanor slipping. Insight burns behind her eyes, devouring every detail.

“Likewise,” Liv says, and there's no threat in her tone, but the air chills a degree.

Yuki notes the faint burn on Liv’s sleeve; residual cursed energy, probably from a recent confrontation. The way Liv’s shoulders are loose, not in relaxation but in readiness. 

“You’re not just here for tea and old games,” Yuki says, her voice suddenly quieter. 

Yuki exhales through her nose, stepping away from the board. 

She waves off the shogi match like it’s smoke. “Well? What's up?”

There’s silence between them, full of unspoken respect that could tip into violence at any moment.

The bead curtain sways behind Liv as the wind shifts again. The mochi tray is cold now, the shogi board abandoned. Yuki leans against the cracked wall of the shop, arms folded, posture as loose as her smirk. Liv stands a few feet away, the dim light catching the sharp line of her cheekbone. Yuki then nods her head toward the paper door nearby.

She doesn’t wait for Liv to follow. 

The back room of the shop is barely a room at all, just a low-ceilinged alcove behind a sliding paper door, filled with old sake crates and a half-functioning fan that buzzes like an insect with a grudge. It smells like cedar, dust, and old.

Yuki pushes aside a dangling cloth curtain, holding it open for Liv with an exaggerated flourish.

“VIP room,” she says with a grin. “No paparazzi, no curses, no prying eyes. Just you and me.”

Liv steps in without comment, her kimono brushing against a stack of newspapers from a decade ago. The light is dimmer here, the world outside muffled. It feels like a place where things are said rather than recorded.

Yuki drops onto a threadbare cushion, sprawling like a cat in a sunbeam. Liv remains standing, one hand resting against a support beam, gaze distant.

“Alright,” Yuki says, gesturing lazily. “We’re off the record. No old men trying to hustle me at shogi. Spill.”

Liv doesn’t waste time. “Yuta Okkotsu.”

Yuki raises a brow, her interest piqued in an instant. “Oh.”

“It turns out the boy is different,” Liv replies, voice tight with something measured, like she’s talking about something fragile. 

Yuki stretches, cracking her back. “Different how? Like puberty-different, or ‘I may or may not bring about the end of the world or near thereof’ different?”

Liv’s silence is answer enough.

Yuki sits up a bit straighter. 

“He merged with a curse,” Liv says, slowly. “He calls the spirit ‘Rika’. They appear to be quite familiar with one another, so I think she might be someone he knew before her death. She is aggressively protective of him, and she’s very large, Yuki.”

That gets a real reaction. Yuki straightens, frowning now. “Merged? Not possessed?”

Liv shakes her head once. “It is like a resonance. He doesn’t control her, but she appears when he's agitated or afraid.”

Yuki exhales, drumming her fingers on the floor. “Soul harmonization at that level shouldn’t be possible. Not without a binding contract.”

Liv hums. “You’ve studied soul theory extensively. Is it possible this might be an accident?”

“Stop right there,” Yuki cuts in bluntly. “I know what you’re going to say next.”

“Yuki - “ 

“It doesn’t make sense,” the older woman stresses, “not without rewriting the whole concept. Accidents don't happen. There is always an explanation.”

A pause.

Then, “Unless - ”

She stands suddenly, pacing the length of the room in three strides, boots whispering against old wood.

Liv watches her. “Unless what?”

“Unless we’re not looking at a curse anymore. Not in the traditional sense,” Yuki mutters. “What if what he’s bonded with isn’t just residual cursed energy, but a new construct formed by his desire and the remaining emotional blueprint of the cursed spirit?”

Liv’s brow lifts. “Like a curse born after an exorcism? Those are extremely rare.”

Yuki snaps her fingers. “Exactly, because that is an unfavorable outcome to exorcism. It could be a reverse manifestation.”

Liv exhales, low. “In other words, he might've created her.”

The room quiets. A single drop of water echoes from a cracked pipe overhead.

Liv’s voice drops. “Do you think it’s - you know - that feeling? Unrequited affection?”

Yuki stares at her, then whistles low. “Careful, Liv. It sounds like you're asking me if the curse loved him.”

Liv doesn't answer.

Yuki laughs, turning it into a full belly-laugh. 

“That’s not love. That’s an obsession, a degeneration,” she taps her temple, “which is the foundation of every cursed thing in this world.”

Liv’s expression doesn't change, but something flickers behind her eyes.

Yuki goes on, pacing now, her mind sprinting ahead. “This might be just a hypothesis, but if there is a chance that the boy’s grief was overwhelming, and the spirit heard it from the other side - ”

She trails off.

Liv finishes it, “It might’ve returned for comfort.”

“Like a cursed soulmate,” Yuki muses, “or a parasite.”

“Or both.”

They go quiet for a moment, letting the thought sit between them. The shop’s fluorescent lights buzz like static. The rain gets louder.

“And if it evolves?”

Yuki’s grin returns, slower this time. “Adapt in tandem.”

Liv speaks next, her tone sharper. “What do you think the probability is that this bond is no longer just emotional, but structural? That the spirit and host are entwining?”

Yuki clicks her tongue. “Hm. If we’re talking pure probability? Low. One in a hundred thousand, maybe. The emotional criteria alone would disqualify 99.9% of humanity. You’d need a lot of cursed energy from trauma, strong emotional attachment, loss, and a near-death event all at once.”

She then grins, “Then again, this Yuta is a walking statistical anomaly. He might be the one.”

Liv’s mouth pulls into something like a smile, but only for a breath. “You always did like your outliers.”

“So did you. You married one,” Yuki counters, stepping closer. “What is this really, Liv? Are you here to consult me, or is Gojo already planning to dissect him?”

Liv doesn’t flinch. Yuki’s smile fades. She studies the Shuuin mistress for a long moment. A smug grin stretches across her face as she scoffs in disbelief.

She shakes her head. “You foolish woman.”

They both fall quiet again, the storm pressing in around them like a closing hand.

Liv looks away first, toward the dim glow filtering in from the shop beyond. “I’ll give you access to the latest data on his activity. One of my spies will keep in touch. In exchange, you’ll share your findings.”

“Deal,” Yuki says, no hesitation.

Liv gives her a long look. “He’s important, Yuki.”

“I know,” Yuki says softly. 

Another silence. Then Liv straightens, brushing dust from her kimono.

“Good.”

Yuki smiles, slow and wild. “Good.”

Liv leaves without another word, the cloth curtain falling shut behind her with a whisper.

Yuki stays in the room a while longer, staring at the place where Liv had stood. Rain drums on the roof like shogi pieces falling, one by one. 

Outside, lightning forks above Shibuya’s skyline as Liv steps out into the night, the slick pavement aglow with neon reflections, red, green, amber. The chaos of the city moves on, oblivious, its hum muted under a layer of drizzle and fatigue.

Her phone buzzes once in the pocket of her coat. She answers without stopping.

“Tove.”

“I think we’ve got something.”

Liv frowns. “I’m listening.”

“Several of your cousins recall haunting instances, usually by immediate family members,” Tove says. “You know how deceased mothers can haunt their children?”

Liv stops walking. “Yes. What about it?”

Tove hums. “A spirit born of guilt and mourning, clinging to the soul that survived. Several families experienced hauntings in such a manner.”

Rain patters softly on the rooftops.

“Do we have any written records?” Liv asks. “We need more concrete proof.”

“No,” Tove agrees. “However - “

A silence settles between them.

“Tove,” Liv finally says. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

Another pause. “You have access to the Shuuin knowledge now, right?”

Liv exhales slowly. Her teeth clench as she looks up. Above the city, the clouds roll like bruises across the sky, hiding stars. 

“The archive documents are vague at best. On the other hand, the ancestral knowledge is absolute,” Tove continues slowly, gently. “If it’s that urgent, maybe you could - “

She doesn’t want to - really doesn't want to. Rei Shuuin is not one to spare a breath unless it’s necessary.

But Yuta Okkotsu may not have a chance to breathe at all.

“Very well. I'll head back to Manor soon.”

“Yes, mistress.”

The line clicks dead.

Liv slips the phone into her pocket and begins walking again. Her path turns away from the station, toward the Manor.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 17:00 / Saitama Municipal Urami East Junior High, Saitama Prefecture, Japan

 

Fat, heavy drops smack against the school windows, turning the courtyard into a blur of gray and reflection. The halls are nearly empty now, echoing faintly with the squeak of wet shoes and the metallic click of locker doors slamming shut. Megumi leans against a vending machine near the side exit, jacket unzipped, collar damp. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a can of something lukewarm and carbonated.

He didn’t ask for the rain, but it matches the mood.

He’d gotten into it again, this time with a senior student who thought picking on juniors was fun. Megumi didn’t say much. Just threw a punch hard enough to make the guy’s nose bleed. No curse energy involved. Just knuckles and timing.

Still got him a detention slip and a disappointed look from the vice principal.

Not that he cares.

The rain falls in steady sheets from the metal roof. His phone buzzes in his pocket once. 

From: dumb sister

waiting at the front gate 

brought your hoodie 

don’t sulk too long 

He lets the message sit on the screen for a few seconds before stuffing the phone back into his pocket and heading toward the gate. His shoes are loud on the wet pavement - the cold sinks into the back of his shirt, clinging to the edges of his bad mood.

She’s there, like she always is, holding a wide umbrella and a second hoodie slung over her arm. Her hair is pulled back in a half-tidy way, damp strands stuck to her forehead. She spots him and lifts the umbrella higher without saying anything, like this is all part of the routine.

“Didn’t think you’d actually wait,” he mutters, stepping under the umbrella beside her.

“You always come out eventually,” she says, handing him the dry hoodie. “Even when you pretend you won’t.”

He takes it without a word. Pulls it over his head and exhales, sharp and irritated.

They start walking.

Rainwater trickles along the gutters and rushes past their shoes. The sound fills the space between them, but Tsumiki isn’t in a hurry to speak. She knows how to wait.

Eventually, she says, “You punched someone again.”

“He deserved it.”

“Maybe, but you’re going to keep getting in trouble.”

“I’m not scared of detention slips.”

“I know you’re not,” she replies calmly. “If all people ever see is your fists, they’ll never see the rest of you.”

Megumi doesn’t answer. His eyes are fixed on the wet sidewalk.

“Being strong isn’t just about fighting, Megumi,” she continues. “It’s about what you protect and how.”

He stops walking for a second, jaw tight. “You sound like one of those teachers from ethics class.”

“Maybe I should be one,” she says with a half-smile. “I’d get a full-time job lecturing you.”

He huffs through his nose; almost a laugh, almost.

They reach the corner near the old bookstore. The rain’s softer now, but steady. Tsumiki shifts the umbrella slightly to keep his shoulder covered.

“You’re not a bad person,” she says, voice low. “You just don’t trust people to see you as anything else.”

A steady silence follows for a while.

“It’s easier that way.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m still going to keep showing up, though. Even if you roll your eyes, or if you’re angry. Even if you never say thank you.”

Megumi finally glances at her. She looks small under the umbrella, but steady. Her eyes aren’t judging him. 

Just waiting, hoping.

He looks away again.

“You brought my hoodie,” he mutters.

“That’s what sisters do.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence. When they reach their apartment building, Tsumiki hands him the key. She knows he’ll unlock the door first, let her in, even when he’s irritated. It’s his quiet way of saying he’s listening, that he still cares.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 17:20 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The phone buzzes on the corner of Satoru Gojo’s desk, right next to a mostly-empty coffee cup and an upside-down packet of sweets he doesn’t remember opening. He doesn’t reach for it right away. He’s stretched out on a couch in the faculty lounge, one arm dangling off the side, phone vibrating on loop like a persistent fly.

He finally picks it up and answers with a lazy, “Moshi moshi! Gojo-sensei speaking.”

There’s a pause. Then the flat, long-suffering tone filters through. He recognizes it, although he can’t quite place it.

“Fushiguro-kun got into another fight.”

Gojo yawns loudly, one leg swinging off the couch. Ah, he muses, realizing it is Megumi’s principal. This is the third time he has gotten a call from the man in the last week.

“Did he win?”

A beat of silence.

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” Satoru props the phone between his shoulder and cheek and starts rifling through his pockets for another piece of candy. “Did he throw the first punch, or was it some other kid poking the hornet’s nest again?”

“There was blood.”

“Ah. So it was a good one.”

“Gojo-sensei.”

The shift in tone - just enough authority to remind him this isn’t a joke. 

Satoru sighs and finally sits up. 

He leans forward, voice losing its teasing edge. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Please do. He’s not a delinquent, but he’s starting to act like one. And frankly, if this keeps up - ”

Click.

He hangs up.

He doesn’t move right away. The room is quiet again, save for the whisper of rain against the windows. He rests his elbows on his knees, fingers tapping lightly together.

He’s not surprised. Megumi has always had sharp edges; Satoru just hoped they’d stay tucked in a little longer. Honestly, he's not worried about the sudden shift in the boy’s behavior. It was bound to happen sooner or later. 

Nonetheless, he makes a mental note to speak to the boy soon. 

“Maybe I should bring Liv along,” he wonders out loud, scratching his chin. “She should try that mental flex thing on the kid.”

Suddenly, he hears a knock on his door before it opens, revealing Ijichi’s solemn face. He is standing in front of the office, soaked from the rain, clutching a folder of documents with a look of grim resignation.

“You wanted to see me, Gojo-san?”

“Don’t look so thrilled, Ijichi,” Satoru says brightly, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. “I’ve got a very special mission for you today. Top priority. Classified. Possibly fatal.”

Ijichi hesitates. “Is this about the cursed spirit in Edogawa?”

“Nope.” 

Satoru flips open a manila folder with the name ‘Yuta Okkotsu’ paperclipped to the front. A faded middle school ID photo stares up at him: dark-haired, hunched, eyes like someone who hasn’t slept in weeks.

“This one,” Satoru says, tapping the photo.

Ijichi blinks. “I thought you brought that boy in today?”

He doesn’t get an answer. Satoru just slides the file toward Ijichi.

“I want everything. His school records, family history, psychological evaluations - everything.”

“Everything?”

“If a dog barked at him when he was five,” Satoru says with a tight smile, “I want to know which breed.”

“Gojo-san, the elders already - ”

“I know what the elders think,” Satoru says, standing now, taller than should be fair. “I’m not in the business of trusting their judgment.”

Ijichi swallows. “What exactly are you expecting to find?”

Satoru smiles, all teeth. “Anything to keep that kid alive.”

He claps a hand on Ijichi’s shoulder, tone suddenly chipper again. “Chop chop, we’re racing the clock here.”

As Ijichi turns to leave, folder clutched tightly in his arms, Satoru sits back down, stretching out like nothing happened.

The rain hasn’t let up. It taps steadily against the wide windows of Satoru’s office, dull and rhythmic like a lullaby he’s too wired to fall asleep to.

The overhead lights are off. Just the desk lamp burns, casting soft gold on the stacks of paper he hasn’t touched and the manila folder now pushed off to one side. His chair creaks as he leans back, long legs kicked up on the table. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, not seeing it.

He’s thinking about Megumi.

Not about the fight itself. Not the blood or the lecture from the school. He doesn’t care about that. Honestly, he would’ve cheered the kid on if the guy deserved it. It’s the pattern that’s starting to bother him. 

Megumi’s face hardens a little more each time he sees him. Every time, his hands are decorated with bruised knuckles. 

Satoru swings his legs off the desk and sits up, elbows on knees. The boy’s a storm barely held together by conscience and circumstance. A kid born to a curse of a man, tied to a sister who somehow turned out kind and gentle despite it all. 

And that’s what Satoru can’t stop circling back to -

What’s going to happen when Tsumiki’s not enough to anchor you anymore?

Satoru stands, stretches until his joints crack, then walks to the window. He’s back is getting stiffer over the years. With his schedule, R&R is a rarity. Maybe Liv would be in a mood for a massage, he wonders while watching the rain as it snakes down the glass in lazy rivulets.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 21:22 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The woman’s silhouette slices through the mist, her figure disappearing into the grey swirls. She moves swiftly, and her kimono, though elegant in cut and dyed deep violet, flares open with each stride. A braid slaps rhythmically against her back as she climbs the stone steps two at a time.

At the threshold of the manor, Liv pauses. Her head pivots sharply, hazel eyes scanning the courtyard. Her chest rises with a single controlled breath before she pushes inside.

Tatami mats barely creak beneath her wet feet as she advances through the corridor. She turns corners decisively, her posture a blend of tension and control; back straight, shoulders squared, arms close to her sides but ready. When Tove appears, almost startled, Liv raises a hand, palm outward, not to greet, but to halt.

Slide doors bang as she spreads them, stepping into the courtyard. Tove watches from inside the Manor, joined by a confused redhead. 

“What was that?” Rune asks curiously, her eyes fixated on the pacing woman in the distance.

Tove shakes her head in dismissal. 

In the main hall, Liv’s stride slows. Her eyes fall on the offerings placed before the tablets honoring the ancestors. The Shuuin are comically reverent of their predecessors, despite having little to no touch with the past. Liv scoffs; all except for her, that is. 

She flicks her kimono back before sitting down.

Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes. She focuses on the wind, the sound of the leaves rustling. The crackle of nearby braziers echoes in the surrounding silence. 

Tove’s feet shuffle against the patio floor, but she doesn’t step into the courtyard.

“Should we interfere or something?” Rune asks, shivering against the cold air.

The spymaster remains quiet, seemingly unaffected by the chill. She frowns as she notes the ominous energy oozing from the main hall. 

Liv’s breath slowly becomes the only sound she can truly hear. Deafness permeates every nook and cranny, blocking out all unwanted intrusions. She takes another deep breath, slow and measured.

“I am here,” she whispers. “I am listening.” 

Nothing happens. She doesn’t allow frustration to take form. Instead, she breathes again.

“Come to me,” she tries again, this time with authority.

Cursed energy condenses slowly, but nowhere near enough. She then places her palms against the floor, focusing on the strongest thread she can sense around her. Like a piece of hair, she grasps it between her fingers and imbues it with her own cursed energy. This causes a ripple effect, magnifying the present cursed energy and acting as a beacon for any spirit that might be nearby. Pulse after pulse, the waves scatter across the main hall and into the courtyard, swaying the trees in their wake. 

Moments pass, and slowly but surely, Liv notices that she is no longer alone. Her eyes open, and she sees two dozen men and women seated within the main hall. Their stares are directed at her, and once she lifts her chin, they offer a solemn bow.

“Finally.”

She knows that voice, yet she turns to her left nonetheless, hazel meeting red. Rei sits poised and straight, undisturbed and cold. The edges of her white kimono scatter into an ash cloud while her hair floats in ringlets. 

“Greetings, mistress,” the Great Mother says with a wicked smile. 

Notes:

Hello everyone!

Just wanted to say, thank you to everyone who still follows this fic despite my haphazard posting schedule. I'm trying to be more disciplined but it's tough lately, I seem to be lacking creativity.

Anyway, hope you'll like this one! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Chapter 18: All Paths Lead To Rome

January 5th, 1998. / 02:12 / Edogawa Prefecture, Japan

 

The night air bites sharply through the thin windowpane of their cramped hideout, snowflakes pounding relentlessly against the glass in thick, white sheets. Outside, the world is swallowed by winter’s endless hush. Inside, the faint glow of a flickering candle casts long shadows on the bare walls.

Liv sits curled on the wooden floor beside the fire, her blond hair catching the dim light, hazel eyes fixed on the swirling white beyond the frost-edged window. Her small fingers press against the cold glass, tracing invisible paths on the icy surface. The snow muffles all sound, and in this quiet, her thoughts drift.

Liv swallows the lump in her throat, but she doesn’t cry.

Toji lounges in the corner, arms crossed over his broad chest, his green eyes watching her. His usually stern expression softens just enough when she glances his way, but he doesn’t say a word about her silence. He never pries into her business, though a responsible adult should, given that the girl is alone on the streets and not in school.

“You’re staring like you’re waiting for someone to save you,” Toji says, voice rough as gravel but low enough not to shatter the fragile quiet.

Liv doesn’t turn to look at him. “I’m not waiting.”

“Then what?” Toji steps closer, kicking a small stone across the floor. “Planning your great escape into the snowstorm?”

She finally meets his gaze, expression calm and unreadable. “I’m thinking.”

He laughs, rough and abrupt. “You’re eight, kid. You should laugh at uncertainty, not plot against it.”

Liv just smiles - a small, honest smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes - and turns back to the falling snow, the white silence wrapping around her like a shield.

Toji’s jaw tightens before he pulls off his worn glove and tosses it toward her, “Here, hold this. If you’re gonna keep staring out that window, at least keep your hands warm.”

She catches the glove, fingers brushing his.

“Toji,” she says quietly, “do you think I’ll ever belong anywhere?”

He looks away, the faintest shadow crossing his features. “Maybe, if you’re lucky.”

She looks back at him, curious. “What about you? Where do you belong?”

He shrugs.

Liv studies him, sensing the weight he carries beneath his tough exterior. She turns back to the window, the snow swirling endlessly, and thinks of another face. A boy with eyes the color of sky and hair as white as the first snow.

“Do you miss anyone?” she asks suddenly.

Toji raises an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d be doing what I’m doing and still ‘miss’ someone?”

She laughs softly.

He looks down at the floor. “People don’t stick around for guys like me, kid.”

Liv’s smile falters. “I did.”

Green meets hazel under the flickering candlelight. Although it’s been a while since he’s been stuck with the girl, Toji is yet to get used to her moments of maturity. His childhood was a shitshow in a league of its own, but even he lacked the grace and poise she has. 

All the more reason for him to get rid of her soon.  

“You shouldn’t have,” he grumbles, looking away.

He expected her to berate him or call him names in return. What else can an eight-year-old say to someone who speaks contrary to each of their statements? Instead, she leans in, hugging his thigh. 

“No takebacks,” she mutters, nuzzling into his leg. “I’m happy here.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, he will blame himself for not prying her small fingers off his leg. 

“You shouldn’t be,” he grumbles again.

Her answer is a tighter squeeze and a defiant scoff.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 21:30 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Raindrops patter on the main hall’s roof. The shutters are drawn while the entrance door is open. Liv looks over her shoulder and sees Tove and Rune watching her with worried expressions. 

“Why have you summoned us, young Shuuin?”

She looks back toward the gathered company. They appear calm, but their slightly furrowed brows and downturned lips reveal a certain impatience. As if they are in any hurry.

“I have a question,” she says.

“Then ask,” one of the ancestors drawls, his voice raspy as if his vocal cords had been damaged.

Liv clears her throat. “I was wondering - can a cursed spirit and a human, well, merge?”

Profound silence follows her question. The ancestors exchange glances, while Rei frowns, her gaze fixed on the young woman.

“If you mean a possession, then - “ she says before Liv shakes her head in dismissal.

“Not possession,” Liv clarifies. “I mean coexisting voluntarily.”

The Great Mother makes a disgusted expression. “What a deranged little idea is floating inside that skull of yours?”

Liv groans, seething at the woman on her left. “It’s not me, you old crone. There is a child bound to a spirit, and the fatheads want him dead.”

Another silence rises. Rei’s expression turns from disgust to disapproval.

“That’s why we’re here? To solve sorcerers’ problems?” she scoffs. 

“To save a child’s life,” Liv says sternly. 

The Great Mother clicks her tongue, not at all convinced. “Degeneration and mutations warrant extermination within the natural order.” 

“Just because something is rare doesn’t make it wrong,” Liv counters.

“It doesn’t make it right, either.”

Their little spat is cut short as they turn their attention to the man on the opposite end of the room. He sports a bald head and a monk’s robes. He also appears to be covered in tattoos. Liv recalls his face, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.

“To answer your question,” he continues evenly, hiding his hands within the sleeves of his robes, “there had been instances of those you’ve described. However, they are not benevolent as you’d like to believe.”

Liv frowns and nods for him to continue.

“What you have described is not cohabitation or voluntary merging,” he says. “That child is cursed, most probably by the spirit before its mortal demise. If I were you, I would investigate the boy’s past.”

“Unfortunately, we’re short on time,” Liv comments with a solemn tone. “The boy himself sees no point in living.”

“There’s your answer,” Rei muses out loud. 

If looks could kill, Liv would’ve pierced Rei’s skull sixteen times already.

“Why are you involved in this case?” the bald monk asks.

The answer lingers on her tongue. Liv sympathises with Yuta, given his circumstances. She also understands that higher-ups are terrified of the boy. 

Satoru is also heavily invested, even though he doesn’t show it outwardly. If his assumption is right and Yuta can be taught jujutsu, he would have one more ally at his side.

“I,” she hesitates, biting her lip. “It’s complicated.”

The old man hums, then turns toward Rei, whose expression borders on fury.

“We will help, regardless of your answer,” the monk says, his stare reprimanding, although Rei doesn’t acknowledge it. “However, if your objective is unclear, we can’t offer sound advice either.”

Liv turns toward the Great Mother. The older woman stares down at her with clear disapproval.

“If you have something to say,” the mistress says slowly, “say it.”

“If the brat wishes to die,” Rei says with a clear warning in her voice, “pierce his heart and be done with it.”

“Is that your solution to every problem?” Liv asks in disbelief. 

“It is better than whatever you and your freak of a husband were intending to do,” Rei retorts. 

“He’s not a freak,” Liv counters.

Rei rolls her eyes. Before their argument can continue, they are once again interrupted by the bald monk. 

“Young Shuuin,” he says, his voice echoing in the main hall. “We’ve answered your question.”

Liv’s gaze lingers on the Great Mother for a few moments longer before she sighs. “Yes. Thank you.”

The bald monk hums, offering a curt bow. She responds in kind before closing her eyes. 

“Rest in peace,” she whispers. 

The room pulses, and the ancestors begin to dissipate into wisps of grey and black, drawn back to wherever they came from.

One by one, they vanish.

The bald monk bows deeply before his form breaks apart like ash in the wind. Rei disappears without ceremony, though her disapproving glare lingers like smoke in Liv’s memory. The Great Mother is the last to fade, her expression unreadable as her outline flickers.

Only the sound of rain remains, its rhythm steady, like a heartbeat against the roof tiles. Liv stays kneeling for a moment longer, shoulders heavy, as if the presence of her ancestors still weighed on her back.

Tove approaches first. She doesn’t enter the hall. Instead, she lingers at the entrance, leaning against the doorframe. Rune squats next to her.

Liv exhales through her nose, brushing hair from her damp forehead. “Did you hear anything?”

“Nope,” Rune mutters. “Didn’t see anything.” 

Tove takes a deep breath. “Got any answers?”

Liv nods. “I guess.”

The spymaster steps inside and crouches beside her. “What do you need us to do?”

“Good question,” Liv says quietly. 

Her voice has lost its usual edge, replaced with something tired. “If I don’t find a reason to keep the kid alive by tomorrow, the higher-ups will sanction his execution.”

Rune’s jaw tightens. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Liv pauses, eyes distant, “and I’m nowhere near getting the proof that we need.”

Tove looks down. “If only he were a sorcerer. The higher-ups would see a profit in keeping around a useful tool.”

“He can’t control the curse,” Liv groans, running her hand over her face. “She is so volatile, and I don’t think that was her full form either. I’m surprised he didn’t die because of her unbridled rage.”

The spymaster cocks her head to the side as a thought crosses her mind. “Liv, correct me if I’m wrong, but spirits can be trained? ”

Liv nods. “Sure can, though it varies. Weaker curses can be trained into submission like dogs. Strong curses can only be tamed, and you’d need either a powerful vessel or a stable conduit to manage that much.”

“Vessel?” Rune asks, confused. “I thought the boy was the vessel.”

“No,” Liv shakes her head. “From what I’ve witnessed, she’s merely haunting him.”

Even more question marks appear over Rune’s head. “Then, where does she come from?”

Liv shrugs. “I’m hoping Satoru will dig up something about that.”

Tove clicks her tongue. “Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Liv hums, and they fall into a short silence. Suddenly, a buzzing sound breaks the quiet. Liv reaches for her back pocket.

“Huh,” she scoffs as she reads the caller ID. “Speak of the devil.” 

She answers the call and switches to speaker. “Husband. Do make me smile.”

A jolly chuckle comes from the other side of the line. Curiously, the sound of his voice makes her smile, both to Tove and Rune’s surprise.

“That’s supposed to be my line,” he jokingly whines, and Liv can imagine him pouting. “Did you find out anything?”

She exchanges looks with her spies before replying, “Some, yes. I can’t say I have solid proof, though. Most of it is conjecture and hypothesizing.”

“Ah,” he sighs, grumbling. “Well, I did find out something, but I’d like your opinion on it.”

“Okay,” Liv nods. “I’m listening.”

“We know who ‘Rika’ is,” Satoru says solemnly. “She’s the kid’s childhood friend. Would’ve been eighteen today, had she not died in a car accident seven years ago. Yuta witnessed the incident, and that is when she first manifested. She was born Rika Orimoto. Both parents are dead. She grew up with her paternal grandmother. I searched her family history, but I have found no evidence of sorcerer bloodlines. Safe to say, the girl is as average as they can get.”

“And what does that tell us, Satoru?” Liv asks, not quite catching the point.

“You tell me,” he nearly scoffs. “How can a little girl with no relation to jujutsu turn into such a big ass curse after death?”

Liv bites her lower lip, her knees restless as she tries to piece together all the information at her disposal. Yuki’s theory seems solid, but there is no evidence to support it. The Shuuin tales are nearly identical, but they are centered around blood relatives. 

“What about Yuta?” she asks, scratching her neck.

“Uh,” he says, silent for a moment. “History of health issues. He was hospitalized for pneumonia at the age of ten. Both parents are living, and one sibling, a younger sister. Family history is checkered, so I’m pulling some favors to get to the bottom of it. I can’t rule out the possibility of latent sorcery.”

Liv hums. “I see. Honestly, this seems bad for him, Satoru.”

“I know,” he whispers, adding, “which is why I was hoping you could do something.”

She frowns. “What can I do?”

He hesitates. “I want you to read his mind.”

“I always do that, Satoru,” she deadpans, earning muffled chuckles from her spies.

“I meant more in the lines of what that old hag did to me that time,” he says. “Think you can do that?”

Tove looks at her mistress, and Rune swallows a lump. Liv, however, appears distressed. Her eyes widen, and red flickers over the brownish-green irises.

“It’s not that simple,” she says slowly. “It is extremely invasive, Satoru.”

He waits a moment. “I know, and we’re running out of time.”

Liv lets out a shaky breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. The weight of the decision presses heavily on her chest, as if the very air around her thickens with uncertainty. To reach into Yuta’s mind, pry apart the tangled fragments of his trauma, is no small matter. It could shatter him (as if he isn’t suffering enough already).

Her fingers twitch involuntarily, restless at the thought of invading a soul so fragile.

“I’ll try,” she says at last, voice barely above a whisper. “I need you with me, though.”

On the other end, Satoru’s voice softens. “Always, Liv. See you soon?”

Tove and Rune exchange wary glances but say nothing. Liv taps her phone off, then rises from her kneeling position. The rain outside intensifies, streaking the windows like tears on glass.

 

///

 

December 3rd, 2016. / 23:15 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

As the line breaks, Satoru sighs. 

He steps forward, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his black jujutsu uniform. The sterile fluorescent lights above cast a cold glow on the hallway outside Yuta’s detainment chamber. Ijichi stands rigid beside him, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his usually composed face as he glances at the thick steel door.

“Poor kid,” Ijichi mutters, voice marred in sympathy. “Trapped in there.”

Satoru lets out a breath, eyes narrowing slightly. “Be optimistic, Ijichi. Yuta’s not a lost cause.”

Ijichi shakes his head slowly. “Maybe not, but it’s hard not to feel sorry for a boy who wants nothing more than to disappear.”

“He’s been through hell,” Satoru agrees, voice steady but softening. “If we give up on him now, it’s like saying his suffering was meaningless.”

Ijichi looks up sharply, meeting Satoru’s gaze. “You think Liv-san can help him?”

A small, almost wry smile quirks Satoru’s lips. “I’m willing to bet on it.”

The silence stretches, broken only by the occasional drip of water from the ceiling vent. 

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 03:33 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

He’s in the middle of the street again.

A car horn blares. Tires scream against asphalt.

He tries to reach her.

She turns her head. Her face is soft, smiling.

Then the impact.

Red on white. Smells of rust. Her small body crumples unnaturally.

He screams her name. Tries to run. His legs won’t move. His voice sticks in his throat.

The world around him melts away, and something else steps into the space where Rika fell.

It isn’t her, but it sounds like her. Its eyes are obscured or not even there. Her mouth stretches unnaturally, lips peeling back to reveal jagged, twisted teeth. The monster rises from the pavement.

“Yuta,” it hisses.

He backs away, shaking.

She reaches for him.

Her fingers are broken, bent backwards, nails blackened and sharp. Her touch burns into his skin, branding him with guilt that no one else can see.

“Yuta, ” she whispers, voice wet with rot and sorrow, “when we grow up - “

He sobs.

“We are going to get married. ”

Yuta jolts awake with a ragged gasp.

The chamber is dark save for the faint glow of the monitor beside his bed. His shirt is damp with sweat, clinging to his skin. His heartbeat hammers in his ears.

She’s not here, yet the air feels heavy, thick with her presence.

A faint, warbling echo lingers in the corners of the room, a low, mournful hum like a child singing to themselves in a dark room.

Yuta grips his knees tighter, burying his face into them. 

He doesn’t cry, and he desperately wants to. 

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 06:15 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The Manor is quiet in the soft light of early morning. Outside, the ancient trees sway gently in the crisp air. Inside, warmth coils softly in the living room, a refuge from the chill pressing against the withered walls.

Liv sleeps curled on the worn leather couch, exhaustion folding her into stillness. Her head rests on a faded cushion, strands of blond hair spilling like a halo over the armrest. Her breathing is slow, even, her face softened, free from the tension that usually grips her.

Across the couch, Satoru sits silently, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. Thin wisps of steam spiral upward, filling the air with rich, earthy warmth. His eyes stay fixed on her with a quiet reverence. He hasn’t wanted to wake her, so he settles there, watching over her in the stillness.

A soft creak of leather draws his attention as Liv stirs, blinking open her eyes to the dim room. She sees him there, near enough to feel safe but distant enough not to crowd. Their gazes meet, and the space between them hums.

Satoru lifts his cup in a silent greeting, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. “Morning, darling.”

Liv returns the smile, tired but grateful. She stretches, the warmth of the coffee and his quiet presence soothing the ache she didn’t realize she carried. 

“Morning, dear,” she replies.

Satoru takes a slow sip from his cup. 

“You were late last night,” Liv murmurs, her voice still rough from sleep.

He shrugs, setting the cup down carefully on the low table. “Yeah. I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked like you needed the rest.”

She shifts, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Won’t deny that.”

Satoru nods, understanding in his eyes. “Ready for today?”

“Yes,” she agrees softly. “Don’t worry.”

For a moment, the only sound is the slight breeze rushing outside. Then, Satoru reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His fingers linger there, gentle and steady.

“Take it easy,” he says, voice low but certain. “One step at a time.”

Liv hums, taking his hand and pressing it against her cheek. She nuzzles into its warmth, craving the comfort. She watches him for a moment longer, letting his words settle into the spaces where doubt usually lives. The warmth from his fingers still lingers on her skin.

“You say that like it’s easy,” she murmurs, her voice more vulnerable than she means it to be.

Satoru gives a soft huff of a laugh. “It’s not. I’ve found that if you say it like you believe it, sometimes other people start believing it too.”

Liv’s lips curve into a tired smile. “Is that how you keep everyone calm? Lie just convincingly enough to fool yourself?”

“Pretty much,” he grins, leaning back against the armrest. “Comes with the Six Eyes and crippling emotional repression.”

She chuckles, despite herself. It’s small and quiet, but real. Her other hand rises instinctively to cover her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sits up a bit straighter under the blanket.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do with Yuta,” she admits, her gaze now fixed on the dew-laced window.

“Having cold feet?” Satoru asks, tone gentler now.

Liv nods once. “I can get in, but what happens afterwards depends solely on his obliviousness.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asks.

“Not really,” she leans forward, resting her arms on her knees. “He’s suppressed within that room, so I’m in no real danger.”

Satoru hums thoughtfully, “Okay.”

“Satoru,” Liv says softly, her eyes speaking what lips cannot.

Satoru’s expression shifts, quiet and serious, for once. He understands what she’s saying without her needing to spell it out.

“I know,” he says again, more firmly now. “You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, not just for that promise, but for everything.

He picks up his coffee again and takes another sip. “A Gojo and a Shuuin, against the world. Remember?”

She nods, swallowing down the knot in her throat.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 07:10 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

Nova sits cross-legged on the cold floor of her cell, wrists resting lightly on her knees, fingers twitching in silent rhythm. The pulse of the inhibitor field buzzes against her skin; low, constant, like a second heartbeat not her own.

She hates that sound. Not because it hurts, but because it reminds her she’s being kept still.

They tell her she’s dangerous. Unfit to be among people.

They never ask if she agrees.

Time slips when she blinks. Seconds fold into themselves. A guard passed the door five minutes ago (or maybe two hours). Maybe hasn’t yet. 

It’s hard to say. 

Timeless is the word they branded her with. It might as well be her name.

But it isn’t.

She is Nova Drakon, scion of the Shuuin, and she is not going to rot in this place.

She breathes in slowly, shallowly; keeps her movements steady and predictable. Her mind moves like clockwork. She watches everything. The way the guard favors his left knee. The exact lag in the inhibitor pulse. The seven-second gap between the outer and inner gate seal. She focuses her senses on the subtle shifts in cursed energy throughout the compound.

It isn’t much, but it’s something.

The mastery of her technique might be a pipe dream at this point, but freedom feels almost within reach. 

All she needs is one moment where no one is looking.

What she fears most isn’t the guards or even the seals. It’s her father, Mathias. If he finds out she’s trying to escape, he won’t chain her out of cruelty. 

He’ll do it out of love.

She won’t survive another version of his love.

Nova opens her eyes. Time stutters, then flows again.

She’s done waiting for someone to rescue her.

Chapter 19: Trouble Always Comes In Twos

December 4th, 2016. / 08:26 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The fluorescent lights overhead flicker once, then steady. The hallway is quiet, too quiet for this side of Jujutsu High. Most of the staff have learned to steer clear of this wing when dangerous students are involved.

Satoru leans against the wall across from the chamber door, spinning a white lollipop between his fingers. Liv stands beside him. Her hair is let loose, a rare choice. Her eyes are half-lidded, staring into the middle distance.

He watches her.

“How does it work?” he asks lightly. “The Inner Eye.”

Her gaze flicks toward him, and something in her posture shifts. A subtle tightening.

“You know how it works,” she replies, soft but guarded. “You’ve witnessed it.”

“I’ve seen what it does,” Satoru corrects. “However, I’m more curious how you perceive it.”

A pause. Liv’s expression flickers: irritation, reluctance, then resignation. 

“It’s like,” she says, biting her lip, “entering an empty room and trying to cook some lunch without any ingredients. It is abstract and highly variable, and success depends on my ability to trust the process without compromising my own identity within someone else’s mind.”

Satoru nods, the lollipop stopping its spin. “Sounds like you did this before. Ever tried it on me?”

“No,” she deadpans. 

He snorts softly. She smiles, feeling nostalgic. 

When he speaks again, the joking tone is gone. “How do you know what I’m thinking if you ignore it purposefully?”

She looks at him, eyes soft and warm. “I pay more attention to your body language. You have a tell.”

The sudden confession seems to affect him more than he’d like to admit. A red streak appears on the tips of his ears, but not further. To save face, he clears his throat, his eyes glued to the door ahead.

Her lips press into a flat line.

“Let’s try to help this kid,” Satoru cuts in, calm and certain.

She watches him for a beat longer.

Then nods.

With a flick of his finger, Satoru disengages the cursed seals on the chamber door. The steel barrier hisses open.

As they step inside, a thick, cold rush of cursed energy hits them, a result of layered barriers designed to suppress anything volatile. Yuta sits in the center. His knees are drawn to his chest. He looks small, but the raw force curled inside him simmers like an ocean beneath a lid.

Liv crouches a few feet away from him, hands folded neatly over her knees, her posture relaxed, calculatedly nonthreatening. Satoru stands further back.

"You’re back," Yuta says, voice fragile and unsure.

Liv tilts her head. “We’d like to try something today. I’ll need you to relax as much as you can.”

His shoulders rise and his head falls, eyes wide like a deer.  

Her tone softens. “I call it the Inner Eye. With it, I can hear what people don’t say out loud. Sometimes, I can reach into the soul, so to speak.”

He looks up, a flicker of fear crossing his eyes.

“I could enter your mind,” she continues gently, “but it’s not pleasant.”

“I told you everything,” Yuta’s voice cracks around the edges.

“Yes, I know, but it is not enough,” Liv says. “We think there might be something you’ve either forgotten or don’t remember. This way, I could find it and maybe get you out of here.” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t see the point, set on dying anyway.

As expected.

“Close your eyes,” she says. “Just for a moment.”

Satoru’s posture shifts behind her. Not a warning; more like interest piqued.

Yuta hesitates, but obeys.

“Now imagine a future where you don’t hurt people anymore,” she murmurs. “Where the power inside you is something you use to protect. Imagine standing between someone and danger, and knowing that it is your purpose to save them.”

Yuta’s breathing slows, but his expression grows pained.

“You think you don’t deserve a future,” her voice is unwavering. “All life is precious, Yuta, including yours.”

His eyes shoot open, sharp with grief and guilt, but he doesn’t deny it.

Liv leans in, her voice quieter now.

“Want to know something else?”

He swallows.

“I truly believe that we can save you and Rika.”

He stares at her, blinking rapidly, as if the words struck some locked place inside him.

Satoru finally steps forward, the tap of his shoe deliberate.

“You have options, Yuta Okkotsu,” he says to the boy, voice light, but firm beneath it. “We offer to help you live on.”

Liv rises smoothly to her feet, eyes still on Yuta. “It won’t be easy, but I reckon it’s better than being stuck in this place.”

Silence expands between them again.

Then, softly, barely audible, “Okay.”

Satoru’s grin is slow and satisfied. “There we go.”

Liv doesn’t smile, but she exhales something close to relief.

Yuta looks down at his hands.

Subtly, Liv nods to Satoru, and he nods in return, offering a thumbs-up as a reassurance. Yuta barely breathes as Liv steps close. Her hand rises slowly, fingers brushing his temple before resting against his forehead.

“This will be weird,” she murmurs. 

His nod is a whisper in motion.

Her eyes close.

A rush of cold air. The world folds inward.

Liv opens her eyes to silence.

The sky above is colorless, a dull silver that never changes. All around her, the ground lies broken, rusted swings twist on chains, a jungle gym collapsed like a ribcage, stuffed animals bleached by time and grief. The air is heavy with stillness, but beneath it is a sound. A faint tangle of whispers and laughter, too soft to be real.

She moves through the wasteland, her boots crushing cracked pavement. Far ahead, a single tombstone stands crooked in the emptiness. As she approaches, it breathes with something old. She presses her hand to its surface.

And the world bends.

She sees a hospital room, sterile and white, machines ticking like distant clocks. Yuta, small and frightened, clutches the edge of his blanket. Across from him, a girl smiles through an oxygen mask. 

Her voice cuts through the hum. “Hi. You look lonely. Wanna play?” 

Her fingers are thin, but confident as she holds out a deck of cards. He nods, shy and slow. 

Next, she finds herself in a park, late spring. Cherry blossoms drift lazily to the ground. Yuta and Rika sit under a tree, legs crossed, laughing over half-eaten and melting popsicles dripping down their wrists. 

“You don’t look at me the way most people do,” she says. “Most think I’m a bad girl.”

He hesitates, then replies, “I don’t think you’re bad.” 

Her smile softens. 

Light shines as summer sun gets caught in golden haze. They sit in a sandbox, giggling. Rika smiles as she pulls out a small box. Yuta looks at her curiously as she places the box in his small hands. 

“What is this?” he asks, opening the box and finding a ring inside.

Liv frowns as she notes the shine, clearly a silver or even white gold band. Rika’s breath catches, then she laughs; not mocking, but delighted. 

“It’s a promise,” she smiles brightly. “When we grow up, let’s get married to each other.”

The world halts.

Liv draws back, the images still flickering behind her eyes like an afterimage. The whispers grow sharper now, closing in. From behind her, the air grows cold.

She turns.

Rika rises.

Not the girl herself but the thing twisted by death and love unspent. Her limbs are too long, hair or what appears to be hair is suspended like seaweed in water, and her face is barely human-like. 

“Rika - “

She looks to her side. There, Yuta stands, clearly distressed. Liv stands her ground. She hears a loud crash in the distance, the screeching of tires, and cries of a child.

Yuta whimpers, his sobs bubbling in his throat. A soft hand presses against his nape, and he looks up. The kind face of a beautiful woman gazes at him with warmth and comfort. 

Liv brushes away his tears.

The wind stills. The whispers pause. Liv turns her attention back to Rika’s monstrous form. 

Suddenly, Rika trembles. Her form begins to flicker, unraveling at the edges like cloth left too long in rain - light spills in from cracks in the sky.

Liv opens her eyes.

Yuta’s face is wet with tears. He blinks as though waking from a long fever. Liv doesn’t remove her hand just yet. 

Satoru steps forward. “Liv?”

She looks over her shoulder and nods.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 09:12 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The chamber is cold in the way only stone and power can be. Frost traces the corners of the high-vaulted ceiling. Four elders sit behind a long raised table, faces half-lit, half-shadowed. Their expressions are carved from stone and bureaucracy.

Satoru stands loosely in the center of the room while Liv stands to his right, still and poised, gaze level.

The silence stretches, then breaks.

“We have found a way to solve this situation,” Satoru says plainly. “Suspend the death penalty.”

A low grunt. One of the elders leans forward. “You were asked to assess danger, not coddle it.”

Liv remains silent. 

Satoru shrugs. “We did. The source of the curse is rooted in a promise ring.”

Another elder scoffs. “You’re saying a ring cursed him?”

“Not the ring,” Satoru replies, patient but pointed. “The intention. A vow made between two children, one of whom died violently. A series of coincidences collided to bring about a large amount of cursed energy into the mix.”

Silence again.

The lead elder narrows his eyes. “You are assuming much.”

“I have a good reason to believe as much,” Satoru says. “I believe the girl, Rika Orimoto, didn’t become a curse on her own. Love, especially at such a tender age, must’ve played a part in her accursed state.”

One of the younger council members frowns. “Love is not a sufficient condition for a special-grade curse.”

Liv finally speaks.

“No,” she says quietly, “but it’s the most dangerous kind of seed.”

The chamber stills.

“Grief. Devotion. Obsession. These are human things. We see them every day in small, harmless ways. Paired with cursed energy, they twist and fester.”

There’s no tremor in her voice, just facts.

The elders shift, uncomfortable but too proud to show it.

Another elder speaks. “So what do you propose? Execution is still on the table.”

Satoru’s voice drops. “I’ll take him on. As my student.”

Murmurs rise immediately.

“Reckless.”

“Impossible.”

“He’s dangerous.”

Satoru lets it pass.

“If I train him,” he continues, “he could learn to contain the curse. Maybe even exorcise it in time without damaging him.”

The lead elder folds his hands. “You expect us to believe you can teach a child to unbind a special-grade curse?”

“I don’t expect anything from you,” Satoru says, smiling forcefully. “I’m telling you the alternative is far worse. You kill him, and the curse doesn’t go away, because it’s not part of him. The only reason it sticks around him is because it’s haunting him. Kill the kid, and it lashes out, and you have a rampant curse without an anchorage. My idea is safer long-term.”

The elders say nothing for a long while.

“You will be responsible for him, Gojo,” the lead elder says finally. “Any incident, and the blame will fall squarely on you.”

“Fine by me,” Satoru replies.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 10:03 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The vending machine groans and sputters before finally dispensing a can with a hollow thunk. Satoru bends to retrieve it, the metallic echo of the can scraping the tray momentarily filling the stillness of the courtyard.

He cracks the tab with a soft hiss and takes a sip. His nose wrinkles slightly. Lukewarm.

“Better than nothing,” he mutters under his breath.

Beside him, Liv stands quiet, the hem of her coat brushing her boots in the breeze. She hasn’t opened her drink - an iced milk tea she’s been holding since before the council meeting. The label is starting to peel under her thumb.

Above them, the sky is a dull sheet of grey, colorless as tin. Bare branches from the ginkgo trees rattle faintly in the winter wind, their last leaves scattered like gold confetti across the stone tiles. It’s too quiet for school grounds. No students, no footsteps, just the steady thrum of tension left behind in the wake of their last hour.

“You’re keeping him on campus,” Liv says. “Aren’t you?”

Satoru doesn't look at her. 

He exhales a thin cloud of breath into the cold air. “Until spring, at least. Then, if he’s able to keep her at bay, I’ll handle his transfer.”

She glances sideways, studying his profile; the way his sunglasses catch the diffuse light, hiding the sharp calculation beneath the ease of his posture.

“What about his family?”

Satoru shakes his head. “I don’t think the kid will want to go back. Once you become part of this world, you can’t really go back to having a normal life.”

Liv nods, silently agreeing with him.

“Do you think Tengen’s wards are enough to contain her?”

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Tengen’s wards? They will hide her, at best. I aim to keep Yuta calm by keeping him within serene surroundings. Rika lashes out when he’s endangered. If we reduce his stressors, we reduce her triggers.”

A crow lands nearby with a rustle of black wings, its claws clicking on the stone railing as it tilts its head curiously toward them. Liv watches it, her expression unreadable.

The stare off is interrupted by the faint sound of approaching footsteps. Liv and Satoru both glance up the path at once.

Two figures round the corner from the upper trail: one tall and composed in a long tan coat, the other elegant and serene, her pale hair braided immaculately to one side, a glossy black raven perched lazily on her shoulder.

Kento removes his glasses to clean them with a handkerchief as they draw closer. Beside him, Mei Mei walks with the subtle confidence of someone who’s never needed to raise her voice to win a room. They’re both covered in blood splatters and scratch marks.

“That’s something you don’t see every day,” Satoru mutters. “Guess the last mission got them good.”

Liv exhales slowly, “Kenny.”

Her voice is soft, but carries a rare warmth. Kento looks up at her with his usual tired eyes, offering the faintest nod in return.

“Heavens,” she says simply, a little more weight in the words than she expected. “Are you okay?”

“Barely,” Kento replies. “I believe we both underestimated the local cursed swarm.”

Before she can say more, Satoru steps slightly between them, throwing his arm around Liv’s shoulder in mock accusation.

“I’m right here, darling? Your drop-dead-gorgeous, perfect, strongest husband is right here. Who cares about some grump in a suit?”

Liv raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Seriously?” Satoru deadpans. “It’s lonely being this handsome.”

A low chuckle escapes Mei Mei as she finally stops beside them, adjusting her raven’s perch with a gentle flick of her fingers.

“Well, well,” she says smoothly, “perhaps Lady Gojo should be more mindful of where she gives her affection. We wouldn’t want poor Lord Gojo getting jealous.”

Satoru gasps theatrically. “I’m not jealous!”

Liv gives Mei Mei a look. “Don’t encourage him. I have to live with him for the rest of my life.”

Mei Mei smiles, unfazed. “Maybe you should trade up. I could use a pretty doll to escort me around.”

Liv crosses her arms, smiling. “You know how this works, Mei Mei. If you want him, you’ll have to cut off my head first.”

“Considering how many want your head, maybe I should take up your offer,” Mei Mei replies silkily. “Kill two birds with one stone.”

Nanami makes a quiet sound that might be disapproval or boredom. 

It’s hard to tell.

Liv doesn’t flinch. “How many are we talking about?”

Mei Mei lifts one shoulder with deliberate grace. “Couple dozen.”

Satoru straightens, expression sharpening slightly despite the grin still tugging at his mouth. “Wait, seriously ?”

“Mm. Three requests just this week,” Mei Mei replies, matter-of-fact. “Two from conservative factions within the Council, one from a smaller splinter house affiliated with Zen’in.”

Satoru clicks his tongue. “Wonderful.”

Liv raises an eyebrow at Mei Mei. “And you turned them all down?”

“Of course,” Mei Mei says smoothly, glancing down at her raven as it ruffles its feathers. “I don’t do assassinations, nor do I aid in such underhanded tactics. Besides, you’re more valuable alive, darling. Also - ”

She meets Liv’s eyes, and though her tone remains soft, there’s a steel edge behind it.

“I like you.”

A long pause follows.

Satoru’s grin returns. “Congrats, Liv. You got an admirer.”

Liv exhales through her nose. 

Mei Mei tilts her head. “What can I say? I fancy the underdogs.”

Kento finally speaks again. “If this banter is finished, I’m going to submit my mission report and go home. I have dinner reservations.”

“Not gonna invite us, Nanami?” Satoru calls after him.

“Not this time,” Kento replies flatly, already walking away. 

The three of them watch him go.

Then Mei Mei turns, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. “Well, I don’t want to intrude on your rendezvous.”

“It’s not like that,” Liv says automatically.

“It is from where I’m standing,” Mei Mei replies, already moving off down the path. 

She waves lazily over her shoulder without turning around.

Silence returns once she’s gone. The breeze tugs gently at the edges of Satoru’s coat as Mei Mei disappears down the hill, her raven a shadow against the gray sky. Liv stands still beside him, arms crossed loosely now, watching the direction Kento left in with something like faint amusement lingering behind her composed expression.

Satoru finally breaks the silence, voice mock-hurt.

“Nanami, huh?”

Liv blinks at him. “What?”

“‘Oh, Kenny, I’m so glad you’re alive,’” he mimics her voice. “‘Thank the stars, I couldn’t go on without you.’ Tch, in front of your husband, no less. Shameless, truly.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I am not dramatic,” Satoru says, one hand pressed to his chest. 

“You sulk when vending machines run out of your favorite gum.”

“That was one time,” he retorts, lifting a single digit in her face, “and that gum was limited edition. You don’t understand true suffering.”

Liv’s smirk is faint but unmistakable. 

Satoru squints at her from behind his sunglasses. “You’re lucky I’m emotionally mature and can deal with this betrayal.”

“Oh?” she says, tilting her head. “And what exactly have I betrayed?”

He sighs, long and exaggerated, turning away as though wounded. “Just my heart, Liv. Just that.”

Liv steps forward quietly. Her voice drops, softer now, threaded with something warmer.

“You want reassurance?”

He glances back at her, one brow rising; curious, maybe a little surprised.

She reaches up, fingers brushing lightly against the curve of his jaw, her touch brief but unhesitating. Then she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek, slow, unhurried. The warmth of it lingers even after she pulls back.

For the first time all morning, Satoru’s grin falters just slightly, disarmed.

Liv meets his eyes with steady calm. “You’re the only man I’d let into my bed, Satoru Gojo.”

Satoru blinks once, stunned into momentary silence. His smirk returns after a beat, but it’s more subtle this time around.

“I don’t know if I should feel flattered or worried about my future health.”

Liv steps past him, her expression neutral again, but there’s a spark beneath it.

He watches her walk a few paces ahead. She looks back over her shoulder, lips curved faintly. 

He lets out a low laugh, falling into step beside her again. “Heartless woman.”

“Green-eyed monster,” she replies easily.

They walk in silence, their steps even and in sync. For a moment, they enjoy the calm after the long day behind them.

But only for a moment.

Satoru glances at Liv. “You do like me better than Nanami, right?”

She sighs while linking their arms.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 10:15 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

A windless snow falls outside the compound, each flake descending slowly, like time has decided to take its time. 

Mathias watches the live feed from the inner chamber, arms crossed, his expression unreadable beneath the cold fluorescence. On the monitor, Nova sits cross-legged on the concrete floor, unmoving. Her eyes are half-lidded, trained on something far away. Not distance, but thought, like she’s listening to a clock only she can hear.

“She hasn’t moved in over an hour,” notes the Ainu attendant beside him, unease buried under professionalism. “Heart rate steady. No recorded spikes in cursed energy output.”

Mathias exhales slowly through his nose. “She’s thinking. That’s worse.”

“Sir?”

He doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, he turns his gaze back to the screen. 

“That child has trained her entire life to be calm,” Mathias says flatly. “Have you ever seen her that successful?”

The attendant looks down, clearing his throat.

Mathias steps away from the monitor and pulls on his long coat. 

“Double the patrols,” he orders. “No standard barriers, layer them with temporal anchors, and include iceflower sigils to track phase drift.”

The attendant hesitates. “She hasn’t shown any signs of slipping this week.”

“I’m not worried about this week,” Mathias replies. 

He walks the corridor without hurry, but every step is deliberate. The reinforced doors and spiritual seals surrounding Nova’s cell are strong. The Shuuin elders designed them personally, and Liv implemented them. Not one sorcerer could break through those wards. Yet, Mathias can’t shake off a feeling of unease. 

Nova was never silent. She was a dear child, always smiling, always optimistic. Since his return, Mathias has seen none of his girl’s usual upbeat personality. Instead, it is a calm, almost serene presence. She doesn’t complain, she doesn’t ask - she follows the rules to a ‘T’.

Her aunt Liv has the same behavioural pattern when she’s plotting something.

In her cell, Nova blinks once, then slowly shifts her gaze to the ceiling. Three more steps. One more shift change. Two hours until the new guard gets lazy. Her fingers twitch once, barely a motion. 

Meanwhile, at the control room, Mathias goes over the floor plans and ward maps alongside the Ainu allies. The map lights up, each mark finely attuned to the tiniest disturbance of cursed energy. 

One spot in particular starts to pulsate.

“The southern anchor just faltered,” says one of the young Ainu wardmasters. “Barely, but it flickered.”

Mathias narrows his eyes. “That barrier was reinforced last night.”

“No signs of external interference. No spike in cursed output, but the perimeter did bend.”

Mathias frowns. What are you doing, kid?

He turns to the sorcerers, “No solo rotations. Pair shifts only. Anyone watching her cell needs temporal counter-charms woven into their clothing. She might be experiencing a pre-phase or involuntary dispersion.”

“What do we tell the elders?”

Mathias answers without hesitation. “Tell them nothing yet. We don’t escalate until we’re sure. Just keep watching her.”

He pauses. “And don’t get close to her.”

Chapter 20: Second Chances

September 21st, 2016. / 19:39 / Gojo Estate, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan

 

The dusk pours in like honey through the wide windows of the Gojo Estate, washing the room in a soft gold. Satoru sits with one leg dangling off the edge of a rooftop terrace, the wind ruffling his white hair like the careless hand of an old friend. His blindfold is nowhere to be seen - just his shades perched low on his nose, allowing the last of the sun’s light to kiss the brilliant blue of his eyes.

A low chuckle escapes him, tinged with bitterness. He had just informed the Gojo elders of his engagement. Needless to say, they didn’t take it well. 

Luckily, he’s the head of this household, and he has decided on his betrothed.

“What a joke,” he mutters under his breath, resting his chin in his hand.

Liv.

They haven’t spoken in years. Haven’t even looked at each other since high school. 

She must be twenty-six now. So is he. Strange, how the years have slipped between them like shadows in a hallway.

He wonders what she looks like now. Does she still braid her hair on rainy days like she used to? Do her hazel eyes still betray her moods, just a little, when she’s too tired to keep them guarded?

And then there's her voice. Calm. Low. Melodic. He remembers it too well sometimes.

Satoru tips his head back, closes his eyes. His Infinity hums softly against his skin, always present, always watching, like a bodyguard that never sleeps. But right now, he lowers it slightly, enough to feel the wind touch his skin.

News spreads fast in jujutsu circles, and he has a few ears in the underground. The Shuuin mistress is an evasive personality, but when she is around, she commands respect and attention with a few well-placed words. Her spy network does most of the heavy lifting, reaching where she cannot. 

Things have changed; he can tell from the tone of her voice when he called her three days ago. She’s not broken or distant; her words are clear, enunciated. She speaks like the leader of a clan should.

It’s time, he thought to himself before dialing her number. Their positions are favorable, their influence immense. There is no better time to tie the knot.

He exhales slowly. 

“You deserve better,” he says quietly, not angry, just stating a fact.

She deserves a true husband, one who’d love her truly and be the support that she needs. It’s anyone’s guess why she picked Satoru of all people. He always thought Suguru was the one she wanted; everyone thought as much.

And yet, he can’t help but gloat that she chose him instead.

He winces at the thought. 

“Get a grip,” he mutters, standing. 

The wind whips around him as he places his shades back over his eyes. The world dims again, retreating to something manageable.

As the sun finally dips below the skyline, Satoru steps back from the edge. A wedding looms on the horizon, and he knows it won’t be what he imagines.

“You know better,” he mutters to himself, heading to his room.

Still, in the quiet corners of his heart where even Infinity cannot reach, he hopes.

He always has.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016 / 10:27 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The cell is still. Cold light from the high window spills across the floor like the start of winter. Dust drifts. The quiet hum of a binding seal in the stone walls is the only real sound.

Yuta doesn’t look up when the door opens.

He knows who it is by the way the footsteps move, confident, casual, too relaxed to belong in a place like this.

“Hey there, kid,” Satoru says lightly.

Yuta doesn’t answer. His arms are looped around his knees. His gaze is fixed on a hairline crack in the tile.

Satoru crouches down a few paces away, resting his chin in one hand. 

“I’ve got some news,” he says. “You’re transferring schools.”

Yuta blinks. “What?”

“You heard me. Dorms, classes, a cafeteria, the whole package. Extra preparatory classes for you, though. We need to get Rika in check first.”

Yuta’s brows knit slowly. “I don’t want to go.”

Satoru hums. “I figured.”

Yuta looks away. “I’m fine here.”

“No, you’re not,” Satoru replies simply.

“I deserve to stay,” Yuta says, quieter. “I’m dangerous. At least here, no one else gets hurt.”

Satoru sighs and drops his arms. “You know, for someone who says he doesn’t care about living, you’re real determined to survive in the most miserable way possible.”

Yuta doesn’t answer. Just draws in tighter.

“You’ll get lonely,” Satoru adds.

“I already am,” Yuta says.

There’s a long pause. Satoru tilts his head.

“Yuta,” he says, “your curse can save people, you know.”

Yuta looks at him, confused.

Satoru shrugs. “I mean, sure, she’s big and scary, and tends to be violent. Real powerhouse, no question. It’ll be a task to get her to play nice with others.”

Yuta is not convinced, but he is listening.

Satoru folds his hands behind his head and leans back like he’s settling in for a nap. “Look. You don’t want to go? Fine. Stay. Rot in here for the next fifty years, write sad poetry, whatever. At least do it after you’ve tried the alternative first.”

Yuta frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Give it a shot. Come to school. Learn. Train. Make friends. Do something worth living and dying for.”

Satoru opens one eye.

“If, after that, you still want to come back here and throw it all away, I’ll hold the door open for you myself. Pinky promise.”

Yuta’s mouth opens, then closes. His gaze falls to the floor. He doesn’t say no.

Satoru grins, stretching. “That’s not a yes, but I’ll take it.”

He stands, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. “I’ll have a uniform waiting.”

Yuta looks at him, voice barely audible. “Why are you doing this?”

Satoru glances back over his shoulder, hand on the door.

“Because I believe you’ve got potential,” he says. 

The door slides shut behind him.

Yuta is alone again.

But now, the room doesn’t feel quite so cold.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016 / 10:47 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Meanwhile, Liv stands in the shadow of the archway just outside the lower chamber entrance, her coat pulled close.

Voices drift from within.

Satoru is finishing up with two assistant directors, his tone brisk and light but edged with finality.

“Yuta’s to be moved by tonight,” he says. “Into the temple, closer to the dormitories. Not too close to the others, just in case. I want barriers installed, but subtle. We don’t want to make him feel caged.”

The older assistant nods.

“And assign guards,” Satoru continues. “Nothing flashy. Let him breathe, but make sure someone’s watching.”

“Understood, Gojo-san.”

He claps one of them on the shoulder and turns on his heel, already catching sight of Liv waiting under the arch.

His whole face shifts, like sunlight breaking through haze.

“Well,” he says, striding over with all his usual theatrical ease, “that went better than expected.”

She doesn’t speak, only offers him her hand. He takes it without hesitation, lacing their fingers together with easy familiarity.

“Wanna go home?” he asks, his voice softer now. “Shuuin Manor’s probably warmer than this stone tomb.”

Liv gives a slight nod, her expression unreadable but warm. “I could use some sleep.”

He grins. “Got ya'.”

But just as they begin to walk, a faint buzz sounds from his pocket.

Satoru pulls out his phone, glancing at the screen. The smile on his face fades.

“Ijichi,” he mutters.

Liv watches his eyes move across the message. She doesn’t have to ask to know what it means.

“Another mission,” she says quietly.

“Sporadic dispatch of double-layer veil. Unstable terrain. Random hauntings, no existing teams available. Blah blah blah,” he clicks his tongue. “They send me for all kinds of shit.”

Liv watches his expression tighten with reluctant focus. 

She reaches out, brushes his sleeve lightly. “Go.”

He squints at her. “That’s it? No dramatic sobbing? No, ‘Satoru, don’t leave me, the nights are cold and my heart colder still’?”

“I’ll manage just fine. Maybe I’ll have another coffee with Kenny or a beer with Shoko.”

“Cruel,” he mutters. 

“I’ll wait,” she adds, and this time the humor slips gently into something quieter.

He looks at her, eyes soft behind the ridiculous glasses. “There’ll be a lot of these in the future.”

“I know.”

A beat passes. Then, with a sigh that’s only partly exaggerated, he slides the phone back into his coat.

“Well. I guess I’d better pack. Any chance you’ll come with me so I don’t forget socks and common sense?”

Liv tilts her head. “You never had common sense.”

He places a hand over his heart, but a smile on his face is contrastingly brilliant.

As they turn to walk, Satoru glances sideways at Liv. A curious thought crosses his mind, and judging from the way she turned to look him in the eye with incredulous surprise, he figures it was loud enough for her to overhear. 

It involves him, her, and the squeaky bed in his dorm room.

“Just like old times,” he says with a wide grin.

She shakes her head. “Perv.”

They keep walking, his shoulder brushing hers with each step. In the distance, the sun tries - and fails - to break through the clouds.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016 / 11:36 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The small dorm room is cluttered with the evidence of a sorcerer’s life: books piled on the desk, a few well-worn talismans hanging from the shelves, and clothes scattered in heaps. Satoru sits cross-legged on the floor, methodically folding and packing shirts into a duffel bag. Across from him, Liv leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on her lips as she surveys the chaos.

“Really, Satoru,” she says, shaking her head. “Are you about to debut at New York Fashion Week?”

He looks up, holding a loud-patterned shirt in one hand. “Hey, if I’m going on a mission, I’m gonna do it in style. You never know when you’ll have to impress a cursed spirit with some flair.”

Liv arches an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure cursed spirits don’t care about your fashion sense.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he flashes her a grin, then tosses the shirt back into the pile. “Fine, fine - mission ready, not runway ready.”

She steps forward, plucking a shirt from the mess and holding it up. “How about something a little less disco ball?”

Satoru groans dramatically and picks a simple black tee instead. “Better?”

“Much.” Liv tosses the disco shirt back onto the bed, then looks at him thoughtfully. “Hey, I was wondering something.” 

He nods, not looking at her. “Yeah?”

She tilts her head. “Why don’t you quit or retire? You’ve got a long career behind you and you’ve done enough for those damn geezers.”

He shrugs, stuffing the last few items into the bag. “I guess I’m too good at my job. Besides, I like doing what I do, despite the evidence to the contrary.”

Liv crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, watching him with an intensity that makes him pause. 

Once he zips the bag closed, he flops back against the pillows and sighs. “Ugh, but I could use some time off. The workload is getting ridiculous. I’m about ready to collapse.”

Liv slides down beside him, nudging him gently with her shoulder. “You look like it.”

He turns his head to meet her gaze, expression softening. “Come on, have some faith in your husband.”

“I do, it’s just that I’m worried for your health,” she says quietly, poking his shoulder. “Does the world truly need Satoru Gojo as much as they claim?”

He stares at her, a shadow flickering behind his usual smirk. Slowly, he unwraps the bandages covering his cerulean orbs. His eyes lock onto hers, intense and unguarded.

“The world keeps spinning with or without you,” she whispers. “Same as for everybody else.”

He shakes his head. “And yet, here we are.”

“Seriously, though,” she says, her voice lower now. “Don’t you ever want to stop?”

He goes still, smile softening. “Stop what?”

“The weight. You act like you don’t feel it, but you know you can’t lie to me.”

He’s quiet for a long beat. 

“I do feel it,” he says. “Every damn day.”

She searches his face, like she’s trying to memorize it in case it vanishes.

“And yet,” he continues, “I know no one else can do what I do. Not the way I can.”

She studies his face, mesmerized by his eyes. “You deserve to have a life free of obligation to other people.”

He doesn’t answer right away. 

Instead, he reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Then, who’d take care of you if I’m not?”

Liv’s breath catches, the room silent except for the faint hum of distant activity. For a moment, they simply look at each other.

The question hangs in the air, unexpected and raw. Liv’s brow furrows, the casual teasing flickering away as she studies him. Where did this come from? She catches the vulnerability beneath his calm, and it makes her heart tighten.

“What do you mean by that?” she asks, voice quiet, almost cautious.

He shrugs, but the faint curve of his lips betrays a hint of playfulness. “Let’s say I die tomorrow. Would you remarry?”

The notion of his death is unsettling, and she shakes her head in reflex. Even imagining it makes her queasy.

She meets his gaze directly, eyes bright with resolve. “No, I wouldn’t.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not even a handsome widower with a tragic backstory and a stable job? Not even Nanami?”

She narrows her eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things,” he replies, “but at least I’m pretty, so it evens out.”

She laughs despite herself. “No, I wouldn’t marry anyone else. I told you already - only you in my bed, that’s it.”

He holds her eyes a moment longer, his own dark and intense, like twin storms contained behind a calm surface. Then, his gaze drifts down briefly, tracing the line of her lips before snapping back, anchoring on her with a weight that makes her breath hitch.

“Damn right,” he says again, softer this time, like he’s confessing a secret only the two of them share.

She shakes her head with a small laugh, the warmth of the moment thawing the usual barriers between them. 

Tension simmers in the quiet. Satoru’s gaze lingers on Liv’s lips once again. The room feels smaller suddenly, the air thick with everything they’re not saying.

She shifts, almost involuntarily, drawn forward by the gravity of him. His thumb brushes the edge of her wrist, not by accident. She takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the tingling feeling in her stomach. His fingers touch the ring on her finger, the one he gave her. Then, he takes hold of her waist, not too tightly but firm enough to send a message across.

Mine.

She swallows as his blue orbs darken ever so slightly. He leans in slowly, but not hesitantly, his intention clear. She wonders if he’s aware of what he’s doing. The proximity, the tension - it is not like she hasn’t expected it. He’s been increasingly attentive and endearing; a handhold here, a kiss on the cheek there.

And just before their lips meet -

She places a hand lightly on his chest. 

“Don’t,” she whispers.

He halts. 

His breath ghosts against her skin. “Why not?”

She leans back slightly, just enough to clear her head. 

“We’re at school,” she says, not a lie but not truthful either. “Remember school? Students, teachers, janitors. All that.”

Satoru snorts, “Since when has that stopped you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, c’mon. You climbed me like scaffolding behind the Kyoto dorms in our third year. Utahime nearly saw us.”

“That is a complete overexaggeration.”

“You nearly knocked over the air conditioning unit, Liv.”

She gives him a long, flat look.

“Ahh, those were the days,” he adds, sighing theatrically.

She groans into her hand. “I regret everything.”

“No, you don’t,” he grins, eyes gleaming beneath the low light. “You know you can't lie to me.”

She’s trying not to smile and failing.

He props himself up on one elbow. “I mean it, though. Would’ve made a great scandal, better than the one where we got caught going at it on the counter in the Gojo Estate’s kitchen. ‘Progeny of Outcast Clan Caught Ravaging The Strongest Sorcerer Alive Behind Recycling Bins.’ Newsworthy, I tell you.”

“I swear, if you don’t shut up - ”

“'He begged her to stop, but she refused. Such strength. Such stamina.’”

“Do you want me to drown you? There’s a lake nearby.”

He gasps, hand to chest. “Violence. What a complex woman I’ve married.”

“You are insufferable.”

“Sure, sure,” Satoru sighs, his face buried against her shoulder like a particularly clingy cat. “You know, if you keep holding me like this, I might just fake my death and stay here forever.”

Liv hums, lazily stroking her fingers through his hair. “You’d be terrible at faking your death.”

He scoffs, “Please. I’m very convincing.”

“You once tried to convince Yaga that you got injured on a mission when you actually slipped in the bath and cracked a tile with your skull.”

“That tile was already weak,” he mumbles, indignant. “Structural flaw. I’m the victim here.”

“You sprinkled the bruise with glitter and then sent me a photo of it.”

“Whatever,” he shakes his head, settling into the crook of her neck.

“They're waiting for you,” Liv says, tapping his shoulder. "Come on."

“No,” he says, not moving. 

“Satoru.”

“I'm known for being late. They can wait a few minutes more.”

She rolls her eyes. He reaches blindly, wrapping both arms around her waist and pulling her closer with the strength of someone who very much doesn’t want to leave. 

Liv lets out a breath, somewhere between amused and fond, and relents, shifting so he can rest his head in her lap. Her fingers continue their slow path through his hair, gentle and rhythmic. He melts under her touch, eyes half-lidded, mouth relaxed in a soft curve that only she ever sees.

“Warm,” he murmurs, nuzzling into her stomach. 

She hums again, and they lapse into silence. His breathing evens out beneath her palm, and for just a few heartbeats, it feels like the world outside the dorm room doesn’t exist.

But then, his phone buzzes with another reminder from Ijichi.

Satoru groans like a man being sentenced.

Liv nudges him gently. “Go.”

He sits up slowly, dragging himself to the edge of the bed like Atlas resuming his burden. 

He throws her a mournful look. “We’ll continue when I get back?”

She hesitates, biting her lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He winks. “Sure you don’t.”

Then he kisses her forehead, grabs his bandages and bag, and heads out. He pauses at the door for one final grin.

“I’ll be seeing you, dear.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t die, darling.”

With that, he’s gone, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Liv finds herself already counting the hours.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 11:33 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Kento sits on the edge of his narrow dorm bed, the low hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the room. The sterile white walls and sparse furnishings do little to distract him from the steady ache in his arm, the bandage warm against his skin as he carefully changes the dressing. His movements are precise and methodical, a quiet ritual to soothe both body and mind.

He recalls the brief moment in the hallway when he and Mei Mei saw Liv, her eyes immediately scanning his injuries with a sharp, concerned gaze. Satoru had been there too, animated as always, but it was Liv’s presence that had caught him off guard. The look in her eye, filled with worry. The nickname she alone has the right to use.

Kenny.

There’s a flicker of something he wants to push down - unease, maybe jealousy - at seeing them together. It’s a feeling Kento quietly resists, stiffening as he reminds himself that he’s happy for them, despite the absurdity of their union.

He can’t afford distractions.

Yet beneath that guarded exterior, there’s a subtle warmth. A small, reluctant acknowledgment that he was not invisible to her, that she noticed him and cared for him. He can’t quite name the feeling, tangled and complicated as it is.

He’s grateful for her kindness, at least.

Kento swallows hard, eyes flicking to the window. He clenches his jaw, pushing both discomfort and relief aside. It’s better to keep those emotions locked away, buried beneath layers of discipline and duty.

After all, he tells himself, feelings like that have no place here.

Not when the world they live in demands nothing less than sharp focus and unyielding resolve.

He reaches for his phone, the smooth surface cool beneath his palm. His thumb hovers over the contacts list, hesitating, then settles on the name of the small restaurant where he had planned to eat later. Hana’s Table - a quiet place, nothing fancy. The kind of place to be alone, to disappear for a while.

With a steadying breath, he dials. The line rings, each tone drawing out the tension coiling in his chest. When the voice answers, warm and familiar, something inside him tightens.

“Good evening, Hana’s Table. How may I help you?”

Kento’s voice is calm, even, but with an undercurrent of something guarded. “I want to confirm my reservation. Under the name Kento Nanami.”

There’s a pause, and then the gentle reply: “Yes, sir. Table for one, ready and waiting.”

The words echo in the quiet room, and for a brief moment, his mind drifts to Liv - her quick concern when she saw his wounds, the subtle way she lingered nearby, the unspoken weight behind her gaze.

He almost imagines saying otherwise: asking for a table for two, admitting that her presence would make the silence more bearable.

But the thought feels foreign, uncomfortable.

Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line and replies quietly, “Yes, table for one.”

Ending the call, he sets the phone down with a soft click. Alone in the dim light, Kento feels the ache of uncertainty, the pull of feelings he doesn’t want to name, and the steady comfort of solitude.

Chapter 21: Red Lights Of The Town

December 4th, 2016. / 11:43 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru lounges in the chair furthest from the center, his eyes shrouded, jaw tight.

Across the room, the elders drone on, each word laced with their usual brand of performative concern and thinly veiled superiority.

“ - unstable cursed activity traced to Kobe. Local exorcists haven’t responded. Either too weak or dead,” one of them mutters without much emotion. “It appears similar to the case in Fukushima.”

Satoru tilts his head. “A Grade 2 sorcerer could’ve easily handled the case in Fukushima. Why are you sending me for this bullshit again?”

A few of the higher-ups stiffen at his tone, but none argue.

“Your report on Fukushima includes mention of a possibility that a third party is involved,” an assistant interjects, tapping a file. “We have solid reason to believe this is the case again.”

That gets his attention. 

He straightens slightly. “Another curse user doing experiments?”

“Possibly worse. We don’t know yet. You’ll be paired with Assistant Director Ijichi. He’ll coordinate logistics and act as your point of contact with HQ.”

Satoru smirks. “Lucky me.”

Ijichi, already standing at the edge of the room with a stack of papers and nervous eyes, bows slightly. “I’ll make preparations right away, Gojo-san.”

“Do that,” Satoru replies without looking at him.

The meeting wraps with too many words and not enough clarity. As the elders disperse behind sliding doors, Satoru remains seated for a moment longer, drumming his fingers on the armrest.

There’s a weight in his chest he doesn’t like.

The Fukushima case was a fluke. Even Liv’s evaluation of the evidence left behind proves that whatever happened was merely a mix of circumstance and chance.

This shouldn’t have happened again.

He shifts his bandages up to rub at his eyes, then leans back, sighing.

His mind drifts to Liv.

Thoughts shift from one to another, without order or sense. He thinks of her lips close to his, then he thinks of the mornings in Shuuin Manor. Their wedding day is as vivid as if it were yesterday, but he prefers the night she returned to the penthouse. 

He wants her with him. If there is anything he’s sure about in their marriage, he knows he doesn’t want to be apart from her longer than necessary. The ease of movement, touch, and proximity is a welcome change to their otherwise bleak marriage, and the fact that they are almost back to the way they were before makes everything else worthwhile. 

Yet, he can’t bring himself to ask her to tag along this time.

Satoru exhales through his nose and mutters, “Stupid.”

He pushes himself up from the chair and turns to Ijichi, who flinches at the sudden motion.

“Let’s go, Ijichi,” Satoru says, his voice clipped. “Investigate the Kobe case on the way.”

“Yes, Gojo-san,” Ijichi replies, bowing again, already scribbling notes.

As he walks out of the briefing hall, Satoru fastens his bandages while ignoring the desire to go back to his wife. 

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016 / 12:00 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Stacks of medical reports teeter on Shoko Ieiri’s desk in a delicate, doomed balancing act. She doesn’t bother stabilizing them. Let them fall. That would at least break up the monotony.

She’s seen at least a dozen patients this morning, and with the way things are going, she expects a dozen more before the shift is over. A frustrated sigh slips from her lips.

The door slides open with a quiet hiss.

“Don’t even think about bleeding on the floor,” Shoko says without glancing up. “I’m out of bleach and patience.”

“Luckily for you, then, I only bleed for dramatic effect,” Liv replies, stepping in like she owns the place. “Morning, Dr. Doom.”

Shoko looks up, raising a brow. “Damn. The Shuuin mistress graces me with her presence.”

Liv gasps, hand to chest. “Is that what I get for loving you? You’re breaking my heart, Shoko Ieiri.”

“I thought you and Gojo were exclusive,” Shoko says dryly, gesturing to the chair. “Sit down before you trip over your own delusions.”

Liv flops into the seat with exaggerated flair. “Please. I can handle both of you.”

Shoko leans in slightly. “I’m sure.”

Liv grins but lets the subject drop, instead glancing around the infirmary. It looks bigger than she remembers.

“Nice office,” she comments offhandedly. “Certainly better than most doctors’ offices.”

“Critic,” Shoko scoffs, setting the records aside. “What brings you to me today?”

Liv stares at her with feigned shock. “Can’t I visit an old friend for no reason?”

“Cut the crap, Drakon,” the doctor chuckles, leaning forward. “You’ve been busy.”

The Shuuin mistress’s smile falters slightly. “You know how it is.”

Shoko catches the shift in her expression. “Should I be concerned?”

Liv blinks, then smiles gently. 

“No,” she says softly. “I just wanted to say hi, that’s all.”

Shoko hums. “That all?”

Liv nods. “Yup.”

Shoko sighs, leaning back and crossing her arms. “If you’re not going to be honest, you can go about your business. I’ve got paperwork to handle, and I don’t see you volunteering to help.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Liv says hurriedly, raising her hands in apology. “I just dropped by, wondering if you’re up for drinks these days. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Shoko tilts her head, studying her. “You never interrupt.”

Liv’s smile doesn’t falter. 

“Thanks,” she says quietly. “And, I’m sorry.”

Shoko frowns. “For what?”

Liv’s voice drops to a whisper, “I know I’ve been distant lately. It wasn’t my intention; things just happen.”

“Yeah, you even missed my birthday,” Shoko says, mostly to herself. “Still, you could at least tell me what has happened. Gojo is tight-lipped and MIA most days, and the Principal is being hush-hush as well. Everyone else is the same as me, guessing.”

“All’s good,” Liv says honestly. “I promise.”

“Not the way I hear it,” Shoko presses. “The Principal told me about the ultimatum. I know you’re involved with that kid’s case, too. Don’t you think this is a bit reckless, even for you?”

Liv shrugs. “I’m an adrenaline junkie.”

“I think you mean glutton for punishment,” Shoko deadpans. 

Liv laughs, then quiets. “Something is going on, I can tell you that much. As for the details, that will be discussed away from prying eyes and ears.”

Shoko sighs, then reaches forward and takes Liv’s hands in hers.

“I swear, you should’ve stayed overseas,” she murmurs.

“I know,” Liv whispers, squeezing her hands. 

Silence settles over the room like a soft cloth.

“Are you free tonight then?” Shoko asks after a beat. 

Liv nods, leaning back. “Yeah. Satoru just left for Kobe for a mission.”

Shoko mirrors her movement, easing back into her chair. “Good. We women can finally have some fun without overgrown children tagging along.”

A slow smirk tugs at Liv’s lips. “Drunk.”

“Trash.”

Liv stands, stretching like she’s shedding a skin. “You wouldn’t like me if I were boring.”

“I’d sleep better.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Shoko waves her off. “Whatever. My place. Nine tonight. I’ll text you the address. You bring the booze, I’ll make food.”

Liv winks, heading for the door. “I’ll wear my best dress.”

“Liv Drakon in a skirt?” Shoko calls. “I’m taking a photo and sending it to Gojo.”

Liv laughs as she pauses in the doorway. “Watch out. He’ll be jealous. I am his wife, after all.”

The door slides shut behind her. Shoko exhales slowly, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016 / 13:17 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Tove stares at the shifting data across the screen before her. Colored lines crisscross the digital map of Japan like veins under glass, each one tethered to an operative, each one pulsing with coded status pings.

Everything looks normal.

She watches the streams blink in obedient rhythm, one after another, perfectly on time. The responses, confirmations, and updates; all within protocol. No alerts, no deviations. It should comfort her.

Her breath slows. She narrows her eyes. Something’s off. Not in the reports themselves, but underneath them, beneath the ritualized language of obedience, behind the tidiness of it all. Field agents aren’t robots; they’re human. There should be variance. Friction. The occasional misspelling or emotional leak. Given the latest turn of events, Tove expected them to have at least some questions. Instead, she sees a uniform and soulless disposition, like every message is run through a filter before being sent.

It doesn’t make sense.

She felt an itch to investigate during their latest comm. Liv’s request met with a quick response, but even then, Tove could tell something was off. Nothing concrete, though.

She pulls up all transmissions during the last seventy-two hours. A list of four codenames lights up: Ash, Snow, Cyril, and Seven.

Tove taps her finger against her lips, thoughtful. The data is clean. Self-censoring, she notes inwardly. She doesn’t want to point fingers; not yet, anyway. However, her instincts are acting up. Operatives shifting subtly inward, pulling information, is never a good sign. 

After all, the whole point of having an intelligence unit is to have, well, intelligence.

Tove exhales slowly and tilts her head, watching the screen like it might blink first. 

In the back of her mind, she considers pulling Liv aside. The Shuuin mistress might want to know if something’s festering under the surface of their intelligence apparatus. 

But then, Tove recalls Mathias’ warning. The higher-ups are the true enemy. Infighting and paranoia will only weaken their operations, and Liv in particular. With the higher-ups' ultimatum looming over her head and the lack of understanding between her and the Shuuin relatives, bringing another problem to light might be superfluous. 

At least, until she has a clearer picture of the situation.

Suddenly, she hears a pitter-patter of naked feet. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Rune entering the living room. All smiles, contrary to Tove’s solemn frown, Rune is a walking ray of sunshine. 

It is her most endearing quality, in Tove’s opinion.

“I’ve got food,” Rune announces, lifting two heavy bags.

Her smile falters as she notices Tove’s lack of enthusiasm and forced grin. She lowers the bags on the floor and sits next to the brunette. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, checking the older woman’s forehead. “You look a bit under the weather.”

Tove smiles at this. “I am, but not for the reason you think.”

Rune frowns, confused. Then, Tove turns the laptop toward the redhead, letting her read the data. It doesn’t take her long to figure out what has been pressing on the spymaster’s mind today. 

“Did you tell Liv?” she asks, and Tove shakes her head. “Good. What should I do?”

Tove chuckles.

“Nothing,” she answers, shaking her head. “I’ll handle it.”

Rune pouts, wide-eyed. “But I want some action - “

“Not enough action for you lately?” Tove asks, quirking a brow.

The redhead tilts her head, staring elsewhere. “Well, not the way I like it. All we’ve been doing is waiting on Liv or getting bored.”

The spymaster hums, “You got a point there. We’re stuck here.”

“Think we’ll ever leave her side?” Rune asks, somewhat lost in thought. “Maybe go back to Norway or visit the States?”

Tove hesitates to answer. 

“I miss travelling,” Rune admits softly. “The world was our oyster. We were free.”

Oh, the irony, Tove thinks to herself, begrudgingly. She then puts a hand between the redhead’s shoulder blades, rubbing the spot.

“How about you run the data for me?” Tove offers with a smile.

Rune smiles weakly before agreeing.

 

///

 

December 4th, 2016. / 20:56 / Ieiri Residence, Shimokitazawa, Tokyo, Japan

 

The sound of the doorbell echoes in the apartment as Shoko curses under her breath, the lasagna in the oven looking eerily scorched. Hissing, she rushes to the door and opens it, not even checking who’s crossing her threshold. 

Liv stands baffled, staring after the doctor as she rushes back to wherever she came from. Nodding, the woman steps inside the apartment and shuts the door behind her before taking off her shoes.

“Nice to see you too.”

She takes tentative steps through the short hallway and enters what appears to be a living room. The decoration is minimal, but the furniture is hefty, most of it dark leather and wood. Some photos are hung on the walls, and others are displayed on the coffee table. Curious, Liv picks up the closest one from the coffee table. 

A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. It is Shoko, smiling, with Satoru and Suguru. Shoko has short hair; Satoru, too. Liv doesn’t remember them taking this picture, which means it’s probably sometime after their entrance ceremony. They look so happy, she thinks as she looks at each smiling face.

She puts the picture back where it was and glances around, trying to find her host. Meanwhile, the said brunette is in the kitchen behind the dining room, seemingly struggling with something. Liv walks over, navigating through the dim smoke that is accumulating ahead. 

“Shoko?” Liv calls out.

She hears a cough, followed by a thud and flap of what she assumes to be a rag. “All’s good, except for the lasagna.”

Shoko comes out with a pair of mittens and a casserole dish. Liv resists the urge to laugh as she notes the contents, charred beyond recognition.

“Well,” she says instead, pressing her lips to hide her smile, “there’s always takeout.”

Shoko rolls her eyes.

“I brought booze,” Liv says, lifting a bag with two bottles of red wine. “Down for a hamburger?”

“With wine?” Shoko counters, quirking her brow.

Liv shrugs. 

A sigh comes from the doctor, followed by, “A’right. I’ll order some burgers.”

Liv chuckles as she shrugs off her coat and lends it to Shoko, who hangs it on the hanger. Smoothing her dress, Liv plops herself down on one of the chairs. The outfit catches Shoko’s eye, especially the color.

Velvet green.

“You’re in a dress,” she states frankly. “Voluntarily. In winter.”

Liv looks at her, then at herself before scoffing, “Oh, grow up.”

Shoko fishes out her phone. The shutter clicks as she smirks, already tapping away.

“Seriously?” Liv deadpans.

“Seriously,” Shoko says, raising her brows innocently.

Liv glances sideways. “You better not be taking that for yourself.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Shoko mutters, thumbing the screen.

“Sending it to Satoru?”

Shoko nods, half-distracted as she taps the message off. “He’ll lose his damn mind. Green looks good on you.”

Liv opens her mouth to protest, then exhales instead, leaning back into the chair with a huff of resignation. “You’re impossible.”

“Likewise,” Shoko says, slipping the phone into her pocket. 

She disappears again briefly to turn on the kitchen fan and open a window, muttering about her own lack of domestic talent. By the time she returns, she’s rolled her sleeves up, two glasses and a bottle opener in hand.

“What do you want to order?” she asks. 

“Anything spicy,” Liv answers, taking the glasses before reaching for the bottles.

Shoko nods, taking her phone again. “Something with ‘devil’ in the name.”

Liv laughs as she opens their bottles and pours each a glass. Twenty minutes in, they’ve downed one round and started the second, while their food is still on the way.

Conversation is light, casual. They talk about health, gossip about higher-ups, and even poke fun at Satoru. Liv finds their light exchange endearing, mirroring the happier times, much like the smiles in the picture sitting on Shoko’s coffee table. 

“I missed you,” Liv suddenly admits.

Shoko smiles, holding her gaze for a moment. “Missed you, too, Drakon. Marriage doesn’t suit you.”

Liv’s response is a bottle cork thrown at Shoko’s shoulder. 

“Ass.”

Shoko merely rolls her eyes before taking a sip of her wine. They now talk about old missions, mutual colleagues turned ghosts, new scars, and older habits. They pick apart the meat of their lives with the same brutal honesty they always reserved for each other.

Soon, their food arrives, and at this point, they are starving. The wine is slowly taking its hold, swiveling the conversation to more mature topics, similar to how they spent their night in the bar before the wedding. 

The burger wrappers are on the table now, half-crumpled, and the scent of burnt lasagna still clings faintly to the air - a reminder of Shoko’s abandoned culinary ambition. Bottles of wine sit uncorked between them, and half empty.

“Tell me honestly,” Shoko asks, humming while pouring them wine. “Why did you get married?”

Liv smiles softly, holding her glass. “Fuck if I know at this point.”

“Ah,” Shoko says, eying the bottle curiously. “So, all that bullshit about love and everything. A lie?”

Liv doesn’t confirm it or deny it. It doesn’t sound right either way. 

“It made sense at the time,” Liv says instead, taking a sip. 

Shoko eyes her before taking a sip as well. “What about now?”

“Now,” Liv sighs, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. “Well, now it’s different. Things have changed, and we have to adjust again.”

Shoko’s frustration is apparent, the frown between her brows deep as she looks away. “I hate when you keep things from me.”

“We don’t know who’s listening,” Liv says softly.

“Then do something about it,” Shoko retorts, glaring at her. “You can do something, can’t you?”

It is not a question. She is challenging Liv, knowing full well that there is no situation too sticky for the Shuuin mistress to manage.

“The less people know, the better,” Liv says, cowardly in Shoko’s opinion. “I don’t want to drag you into my problems.”

Shoko slams her glass against the table before crossing her arms. Her brown eyes are misty, her complexion flushed, but her resolve is unshaken.

“The last time you told me something along the lines of that, you ended up in a restraining cell and on death row,” Shoko bites back. 

Liv doesn’t respond right away.

The silence between them stretches, thick and warm. Shoko stares across the table, jaw set, shoulders rigid, as though daring Liv to retreat behind veils again. This time, Liv doesn’t shift away or reach for a safer answer. She just sets down her glass carefully, fingers lingering on the stem. Her eyes drop to the table, then flick to the closed window behind them, the one she knows isn’t as tightly sealed as Shoko thinks.

Then she lifts her hand and traces a hidden tattoo behind her ear. 

She mutters a faint incantation before a myriad of marks appear on her skin. Shoko’s eyes widen as she witnesses the ordeal.

“Hljodr,” she whispers, and everything turns quiet except for them.

The charm unfolds subtly, like a ripple beneath the skin of the room. The light above them flickers once, nothing obvious, and then softens. A faint pulse of cursed energy expands outward, coiling like mist, silencing the apartment from the inside out.

Shoko feels it the second it’s done. Her lips press into a line, but she doesn’t speak. She just nods once. 

The gloves are off.

Liv looks up and meets her gaze squarely.

She swallows. “Before I say anything, Satoru knows, so this isn’t my doing alone.”

Her voice is calm, controlled, almost too quiet.

“You’re right to doubt this marriage, but it’s not that simple. The situation is sensitive.”

Shoko leans back slowly in her chair, eyes narrowing. “How sensitive are we talking?”

Liv’s hands drop into her lap. Her fingers curl into fists.

“Very sensitive.”

Shoko leans in, her voice low. “Liv. What did you do?”

The lights flicker again, just once.

“It started shortly before I came to Jujutsu High - ”

 

///

 

December 5th, 2016 / 17:42 / Nankin-machi, Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan

 

The afternoon sun hangs low behind a veil of winter haze, casting a dull orange sheen over the red archways and tiled rooftops of Nankin-machi. Lanterns sway in the breeze like slow-moving embers, their glow dim against the fading sky. The district is less lively now than it was the night before. Most of the tourists are gone. Shopkeepers sweep their thresholds, steel shutters half-lowered. The heavy scent of steamed buns and frying oil lingers like a memory.

Satoru stands still at the edge of a narrow side street, one hand on his hip, the other loosely gripping a crumpled paper map some well-meaning old woman insisted he take earlier. It’s useless, of course; a prop more than a guide. With a sigh, he lets it flutter to the ground and drift into the gutter.

He’s alone today.

Ijichi is off digging through the depths of some musty municipal archive, probably inhaling dust and bureaucracy by the lungful. Satoru had waved him off with the usual: You do the homework, I’ll do the vibes. Typical division of labor.

Not that the vibes have offered much.

He’s spent the better part of the day walking, tracing faint threads of cursed energy that twist and vanish like smoke just as he gets close. Empty alleyways. Shuttered warehouse lots. Stray fluctuations in the air that always end in the same thing: nothing. Not nothing as in harmless; nothing as in intentionally scrubbed clean. Like someone keeps stepping out of the room the second he walks in.

The “haunting” in Kobe isn’t haunting at all - it’s a net.

And he’s walking through it.

“Dead end,” he mutters to no one, tilting his head toward the pale sky above the rooftops. “What a waste.”

He exhales, frustrated not just with the case, but with the quiet, nagging itch he can’t name. The sense that something’s watching him back. That whatever’s here is playing by a rulebook he hasn’t read yet.

He pulls his phone from his coat pocket for the first time in almost a day. Five missed messages. Two from Ijichi - no doubt status updates on shipping manifests and clerical confusion. One from an unlisted number. One from the Jujutsu tech division and one - 

"Shoko?"

An image. His thumb hovers for a second before opening it. The signal’s garbage. It takes a moment to load.

When it does, it stops him cold.

It’s Liv.

She’s lounging at Shoko’s table, wine glass in hand, wearing a dark green dress that he doesn’t recognize. Her legs are crossed, the hem of the dress high enough to make his heart thump without warning. The angle’s casual, candid. Her face is relaxed, but her eyes - she’s smirking slightly, like she knows exactly what this will do to him.

Satoru stares at the photo, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. His chest tightens. The kind of ache that only shows up when you’ve been holding your breath for days without realizing it.

Standing in this half-empty street with neon signs flickering above empty food stalls, all he wants is to go home.

He nearly types something. His thumb lingers over the reply box.

Then, he locks the screen.

“Finish sooner,” he says under his breath. “Get back to her sooner.”

He moves faster now, weaving through the narrowing back streets with his coat flaring behind him. The sun slips lower as he retraces his route, sweeping corners he’d previously dismissed. This time, his eyes catch the subtler signs: a paper talisman barely stuck to the underside of a drainpipe, carved grooves in a concrete stair that weren’t there yesterday.

Something is here. It’s just waiting for him to lose interest.

Satoru doesn’t lose interest.

He stops in a narrow alley between two shuttered restaurants, quiet enough to hear his breath. He kneels and presses a hand to the ground.

The cursed residue is faint, like old blood under paint, but it’s there. It is also familiar. Unlike cursed energy residuals left by cursed techniques and curses, this one is more melodic. Ritual sights and temples resonate with similar energy markers.

He stiffens. He recalls Liv's markings, resounding with a similar tone. Present but deceivingly not overwhelming. 

Galdr. 

“Same as Fukushima,” he mutters. 

The higher-ups were right - this isn’t a haunting. It’s another experiment, and it seems the person conducting it has grown more proficient.

Chills run down his spine. This mission isn’t going to end with an exorcism. His stomach knots with unease. 

He straightens, brushing dust from his knees. The air around him stills. Somewhere in the distance, the lanterns flicker.

Satoru begins to walk again.

Chapter 22: What's Worth Saving Part I

December 6th, 2016 / 06:42 / Ieiri Residence, Shimokitazawa, Tokyo, Japan

 

Light seeps through the blinds, tinting the apartment in soft blue-gray. Last night’s dinner still clutters the table - empty wine glasses, two burger wrappers, and a greasy paper bag folded like a failed origami project. A stained kitchen towel lies on the floor, blackened cheese and ash clinging to the fabric like stubborn memories. The burnt-lasagna stench has finally dulled to something tolerable.

Shoko stirs, one arm hanging off the couch. She squints at the ceiling, groaning when she realizes she’s still fully dressed. Liv’s coat lies over her like a makeshift blanket. The wine’s worn off, but the bone-deep exhaustion hasn’t.

“Morning,” comes Liv’s voice from somewhere near the window, low and scratchy.

Shoko turns her head. Liv is sitting on the floor, back against the wall, legs pulled up, arms resting over her knees. She doesn’t look like she slept much, but she doesn’t look hungover either. Her eyes are open, distant but alert. She’s wearing the same dress as the night before, though someone had given her a hoodie to drape over her shoulders. Her hair’s slightly mussed, her expression unreadable.

“Did you sleep?” Shoko rasped.

Liv keeps her gaze fixed ahead. “A little. You?”

“Barely.”

Shoko grunts, stretching her back until it pops. She eyes the table and the chaos they left behind.

“We live like animals.”

Liv gives a weak laugh. “Speak for yourself.”

Shoko rises to her feet, padding toward the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

“Fuck, yes.”

The kettle starts humming as Shoko pulls out two mismatched mugs. She watches the steam rise.

She doesn’t look back when she asks, “What are you thinking about?”

Liv exhales slowly, and her voice comes from behind her like a shadow. “He called. A lot.”

Shoko glances over her shoulder.

Liv’s phone lies in her lap, the screen bright against the dim room. Her thumbs hover, then scroll.

Shoko leans against the counter, arms crossed. “You gonna answer?”

“I already did.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Don’t know.”

Shoko’s brow furrows. “Liv.”

Liv finally looks up, her eyes dull in the gray light. “He didn’t give me many details, Shoko.”

The kettle clicks. Shoko pours the coffee, saying nothing more. She brings the mugs over and sits down across from her friend, knees knocking gently together as she hands one off.

They sip in silence.

“You’ve got work today?” Liv asks after a while, breaking the comfortable silence.

Shoko shakes her head. “Got a day off.”

Liv grins. “Imagine that. I thought you sorcerers hardly get days off at Jujutsu High.”

“Most of us do,” Shoko drawls, taking a sip of her coffee. “Except for Gojo. They work him like cattle.”

Liv’s smile falters, and she looks down, playing with her mug. “I noticed.”

The solemn vibe emanating from her is noticeable. Shoko doesn’t like it when she gets all quiet like that. She nudges the blonde with her toe.

“Talk to me, Drakon. We agreed on not keeping secrets.”

The Shuuin mistress shrugs.

Shoko kicks her shins and Liv hisses, rubbing the sore spot.

“What the hell?” Liv mutters with a scowl on her face.

Shoko merely shrugs in response.

Liv groans, “Fine. I just don’t like that he’s being used like that all the time.”

“He’s the strongest,” Shoko points out.

“He’s not indispensable,” Liv counters before her expression softens. “If they don’t ease up on that leash, he’ll break.”

Shoko looks at her, tilting her head. She doesn’t explicitly say it, but Liv’s words betray her feelings, specifically her unease.

“Drakon,” Shoko says softly, “he can speak for himself.”

“Can he?”

Silence follows. Shoko’s eyes widen at the implications.

“You think he’s powerless.”

It is not a question, although it should be framed as such, considering that the topic of their conversation is Satoru Gojo - undoubtedly someone powerful.

Liv doesn’t argue, but neither does she move. Instead, she stands again and walks to the window, pushing the curtain aside. She leans her forehead against the glass, watching the world stir.

“He’s too responsible,” Liv says at last, frustration edging her voice. “It’s maddening.”

Shoko hums, unsurprised. “You’re just now noticing that?”

Liv’s brow tightens. “He carries everything: every student, every mission, every failure that isn’t his. Even the ones that are. He never says no. Sure, he complains, but he never refuses.”

She sips her coffee, frowning. “He’s not selfish enough.”

“You say that like it’s a flaw,” Shoko mutters.

Liv scoffs, low and bitter. “It is, if it’s going to kill him.”

Silence hangs between them again, taut as piano wire.

“If he were that selfish,” Shoko adds, “he’d have joined Geto.”

Liv’s head snaps up, but Shoko just sips her coffee, unfazed.

“That’s what he did, right?” she adds. “Decided the world wasn’t worth saving if it meant sorcerers were suffering for it. If Gojo wanted to escape, he could’ve easily. Yet, he stayed. He keeps choosing this path, even when it eats him alive.”

Liv’s expression flickers ever so slightly. “So, his self-sacrifice makes him honorable?”

“It makes him stupid, to be honest,” Shoko says. “Still, it’s his choice.”

Liv stares down at her coffee.

“He doesn’t know how to rest,” she says after a beat. “Even when we’re alone, it’s like he’s bracing for something.”

“That’s what happens when you grow up knowing you’re a weapon,” Shoko mutters. “You don’t learn peace.”

“You sound like you know what that’s like,” Liv says softly.

Shoko shrugs, but doesn’t respond.

Instead, she eyes Liv over the rim of her cup. “You want to know the real irony in all this?”

Liv glances at her.

“You’re the same.”

Liv blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’re not selfish enough either,” Shoko says, tone calm but pointed. “Based on what you told me, you could’ve walked away from the Shuuin the moment you assumed proper leadership. You could’ve burned that entire legacy down, gone to the States, vanished with your spies and whatever else you could carry. Instead, you’ve stayed.”

Liv leans back, jaw tightening. “That’s different.”

Shoko lifts a brow. “Is it?”

“It is.”

“How?”

Liv doesn’t answer right away. Shoko doesn’t press. She waits, arms folded, sipping patiently.

“I stay because I can do something they can’t,” Liv says at last. “I stay because if I don’t, no one will take up my position. Things will be the same.”

“And Gojo takes missions for the same reason,” Shoko says. “Because if he doesn’t, someone else suffers instead. The circle of self-sacrifice never ends.”

She gestures lazily toward the window. “You’re both martyrs while pretending you’re not.”

Liv exhales, long and slow. “I hate that word.”

“I know,” Shoko replies. “Because you know it fits.”

There’s no venom in her tone. Just truth, dry and steady.

Liv runs a hand over her face. “We were supposed to make things better, not harder.”

“That’s the lie we all bought into,” Shoko murmurs. “Do good, sacrifice a little, save the world. It’s never a little, though. It’s always everything.”

She stands and walks to the kitchen. The water boils again, loud and comforting. When she returns, she refills Liv’s mug without asking.

Liv stares at the steam for a long time.

“If I asked him to stop, he wouldn’t,” she says.

Shoko nods. “Of course not.”

“If I asked him to choose me - really choose me - he might pause.”

Shoko’s face softens, just a little. Despite their marriage being arranged for ulterior purposes, she is glad to know that they’re not just strangers bound by vows.

Perhaps something more genuine will bloom in the future.

“I can hear you,” Liv mutters, scratching her temple purposely.

Shoko nods. “Yeah, I know. Out of everything you’ve confessed, I find the fact that you’re a telepath quite pragmatic.”

“And everything else?” Liv asks, lifting a brow.

Shoko hesitates. “Well, it’s a lot, to be honest. Especially the whole exile-at-seven thing.” 

Liv doesn’t speak. Her knuckles whiten around the mug.

“But,” Shoko says, leaning forward, voice low, “none of that matters now, and wondering about what-ifs is futile, at this point. You should focus on the present and what you can control in this moment.”

That catches Liv off guard.

“It’s alright to care,” Shoko adds.

Liv’s mouth parts like she might say something. Instead, she looks at her phone and the numerous messages and missed calls. The corner of her mouth quirks ever so slightly. Suddenly, Shoko rests her palm on Liv’s forearm.

“Don’t overthink it,” Shoko says, gentler now. “You don’t have to pretend it’s strategy, or duty, or detachment. He’s not your weakness, he’s your husband.”

Liv exhales. They sit in silence for a moment, letting the truth settle. Then Shoko shifts, expression hardening just slightly.

“You need to be careful.”

Liv glances over.

“With Jujutsu High,” Shoko clarifies. “The higher-ups.”

Liv’s brow furrows, but Shoko presses on.

“You’re smart, we all know that. However, this is beyond you. There are many of them; the Shuuin count barely a tenth of Jujutsu High’s forces. This is not a game you can win.”

“I don’t play games, Shoko,” Liv says immediately.

Shoko gives her a look. “Then act like it.”

Liv opens her mouth, then closes it.

Shoko leans forward, elbows on her knees. “You don’t want to burden Gojo with Shuuin problems? Solve them first. The more you’re stalling, the worse things get, and judging on your latest actions, I’d say you’re avoiding them altogether.”

Liv’s eyes are sharp now.

“I’ve been trying to keep everything in balance,” she says.

“And you can’t,” Shoko replies. “No one can, and that’s fine.”

She reaches across and taps Liv’s wrist.

“You don’t need to save the world. Just figure out what’s worth saving.”

Liv doesn’t respond right away. She watches the light catch in her coffee, the reflection of the apartment in its surface.

Shoko is right.

There’s nothing more to debate.

Liv looks up, meeting her friend’s gaze. No more defenses, no clever retorts - just a quiet, tired kind of acceptance.

Then, Liv’s phone buzzes. She glances down at the screen - Satoru. She hesitates, only for a second.

She answers.

His voice filters through the speaker, low and tired, but unmistakably his.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she answers, softer than she intended.

“Just wanted to check in,” he says. 

Liv chuckles. “Is that the reason for blasting my phone last night?”

He exhales, frustration threading through the line.

She closes her eyes. “Tell me you’re alright, husband.”

“Yeah. Just annoyed. Whoever set this up wants to stay hidden. I’ll figure it out.”

Of course, he will. That’s what he does.

“Did you sleep at all?” she asks softly.

He hesitates. “Well, I hardly sleep on normal days.”

“Satoru - “

“I miss you.”

She feels warmth spread through her chest. It is mildly uncomfortable and immensely endearing.

“You’re growing soft on me,” she replies, her voice nearly breaking.

“Heartless woman,” he says, groaning. “I wanna go home.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and smiles. “Ditto.”

Satoru exhales again, but it sounds lighter this time. “Still at Shoko’s?”

“Yeah,” Liv says, glancing across the room.

“Tell her I won’t forget her last night’s underhanded methods any time soon.”

Shoko, overhearing, flips the bird with no particular malice.

Liv laughs. “She heard you loud and clear.”

“Figures,” he says. “I’ll call again tonight, alright?”

“Alright.”

They linger for a moment. Then the call ends.

Liv stares at the phone for a beat longer, her reflection dim in the black screen. Then she sets it aside and turns back to Shoko.

“I think I’m gonna barf,” Shoko teases, gagging.

“Shut up,” Liv retorts, slapping the other woman on her knee. “I think I know where to start.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow. “With Satoru?”

“No,” Liv says, standing slowly. “With the Shuuin.”

Shoko nods, rising to her feet. She leans back against the wall, arms crossed loosely over her chest.

“And?” she asks. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Liv doesn’t answer right away. She paces once, slow, thoughtful. Her fingers drum idly against her thigh as her gaze slides to the frost-streaked window. 

“I don’t have the minutiae down yet, but in a broad sense,” she says, her eyes observing the street below, “I have to tell them what happened. It’s been long overdue.”

Shoko nods. “That’s a good place to start.”

“But not to finish,” Liv turns around, tilting her head back. “There will be opinions. Some of them will be loud.”

“You deal with Gojo every day,” Shoko notes casually. “How bad can it be?”

Liv chuckles. “Actually, Satoru is not as obnoxious as you think. He’s rather mellow.”

Shoko lifts her hands in mocking defeat. “Whatever. You do you. Just stay safe.”

Liv smiles. “Will do.”

She walks toward the hallway and pulls her coat from the hook near the door. She shrugs it on, smoothing the sleeves.

Shoko watches her from the kitchen archway. “You leaving already?”

Liv smiles gently and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should enjoy your day off, Shoko. I’ve taken up enough of it.”

The doctor snorts lightly. “Please. The only thing I had planned was aggressively not answering emails.”

“Still,” Liv says as she moves to the door, fingers pausing on the handle. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Shoko exhales through her nose and steps forward, picking up one of the empty wine bottles with a shrug.

“You already made up for it,” she says casually. 

Liv chuckles, warmth flickering in her chest. She nods, gratitude tucked behind her tired smile.

“I’ll make it up to you again. Next time, something fancier.”

“You say that every year,” Shoko teases, walking her to the door.

“And every year, I mean it.”

The door creaks open to the cool night. Liv steps through, pausing on the threshold.

“Take care of yourself, Shoko.”

“You too,” the doctor says, leaning on the doorframe. 

Liv lifts a hand in a mock salute. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, she descends the steps and disappears into the quiet streets of Shimokitazawa. Shoko lingers in the doorway for a moment, arms crossed again, watching the darkness like it might whisper back.

Eventually, she closes the door and returns to the kitchen, muttering to herself, “Always the dramatic exits, that one.”

 

///

 

December 6th, 2016 / 07:14 / Nankin-machi, Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan

 

The city wakes slowly, the dawn bleeding in pale strokes of gray and pink between shuttered doors and hanging lanterns. Nankin-machi lies hushed, the usual clatter of tourists and chatter reduced to a whisper of distant footsteps and the faint aroma of fried batter and soy from waking kitchens.

Satoru sits alone at a plastic table tucked in the far corner of a cramped noodle stand, steam rising from an untouched bowl. The scent of garlic, egg, and scallions curls in the cold morning air, but it barely registers. His eyes are hidden behind dark lenses, the usual sparkle dimmed by exhaustion deeper than mere lack of sleep.

He rubs a hand over his face, jaw tight. Each breath tastes of stale frustration. Two days. Two days spent chasing cursed traces that vanish like footprints swallowed by the tide; empty alleys, locked shrines, silent streets. No answers. Just more questions.

His phone buzzes sharply against the table, cutting through the quiet. The screen lights up: Ijichi.

Satoru answers without looking, voice clipped. “Yeah?”

Ijichi’s tone carries the weight of strained patience over the weak signal. “Gojo-san, I checked the city archives again. Every incident site ties back to defunct spiritual groups - small cults wiped from records in the eighties. No names left, just eyewitness accounts of an exorcist with no official affiliation. No records, no identity.”

Satoru snorts, dry humor hiding his growing irritation. “Let me guess - black coat, no face, cryptic aura?”

“Exactly,” Ijichi replies, voice flat.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, fighting the tight pressure behind his eyes. The warmth of the noodles now feels stifling, a mocking contrast to his cold dread.

“Great,” Satoru mutters, voice low. “Another mystery freak.”

Without waiting for a goodbye, he ends the call and finally lifts his chopsticks.

The noodles are lukewarm, but he eats anyway. Because standing still isn’t an option, even when every step feels like sinking.

 

///

 

December 6th, 2016 / 09:44 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Frost clings to the edges of the windows like delicate lace. Inside, the only warmth comes from the soft glow of monitors and steam curling from a forgotten mug of tea.

Tove sits rigid, arms crossed, eyes flicking across a cascade of data. Rune is sprawled in the adjacent chair, barefoot, hoodie three sizes too big, typing with one hand while munching dried mango with the other.

“Every single one of Snow’s updates came in on time,” Rune says between bites. “Even the one from Tottori. You know how awful their reception is.”

Tove doesn’t answer. Her fingers twitch against her arm.

Rune glances at her. “Still think I missed something?”

“If something’s wrong,” Tove says quietly, “it’s not in the content.”

Rune tilts her head. Tove gestures toward the screen, where a message from operative Seven blinks, perfect syntax and timestamp.

“You think they’ve been compromised?” Rune asks.

“I think they’ve been warned,” Tove replies, “or watching each other.”

Rune frowns. “We’d have seen an access breach.”

“Not if it didn’t require access,” Tove says, voice grim. “If it came from above.”

Rune exhales slowly, eyes narrowing. “Above Liv? That means elders.”

Tove closes her eyes briefly. “It’s a possibility.”

The heavy oak doors creak open, their age-old hinges groaning like a warning. A faint draft slips inside. The spies snap off their laptops and place them casually on the coffee table. They grab their mugs, forcing calm.

Liv steps across the threshold, her boots echoing on the wooden floor. The Manor is unusually quiet upon her entry, as if it’s holding its breath.

The silence swells.

Liv’s fingers twitch, nerves pricking beneath her skin as she moves further in, each step measured, aware. She steps inside the living room, looking tired but composed. Her gaze sweeps over the two, sharp and probing.

Tove moves to her side. “What happened?”

Liv offers a tired smile. “Long night with Shoko. I’m fine.”

Rune shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Liv’s gaze.

“What’s up?” Liv asks softly.

“Just exhaustion,” Tove says quickly. “We’ve been busy.”

Liv nods, expression unreadable. “You're allowed a day off, you know.”

The spies exchange glances, relief flickering across their faces. Rune shoots Tove a pointed look. Tove shakes her head subtly.

Liv notices, brow furrowing. She hears their thoughts, a careless slip in discipline.

“I taught you to control that,” Liv says sharply.

A cold tension settles over the room. The spies lower their eyes, chastened.

“You’re hiding something.”

Silence stretches.

Finally, Tove bows her head. “I suspect interference. Someone’s meddling with the network.”

Liv’s eyes narrow. “Who?”

“No proof yet,” Tove says, “but likely someone among the elders.”

Liv exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. The room seems to darken.

“Then we get proof. I’ll make a statement tonight. Whoever opposes me will have to reveal themselves.”

Rune’s eyes flash with determination.

Tove watches Liv, her resolve steeling despite the danger ahead.

Liv turns back toward the frosted window, her reflection a ghost on the glass; her voice is nearly lost in the space between them. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Tove stiffens slightly, catching the weight of her words. Rune exchanges a glance with her, this time more somber. Their lips stretch into a soft, if sad smile.

Liv moves away from the window, toward the center of the room. She takes a seat where Tove had been, back straight, legs crossed, hands resting lightly on her knee.

A heavy silence settles in the room as the gravity of Liv’s words lingers. The spies quietly absorb the weight of the coming storm.

Liv stands, her spine stiffening with purpose. “Call back every operative. I want them all here as soon as possible.”

Her order hangs heavy in the air. Tove and Rune exchange a glance, their eyes flickering with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

“At once,” Rune says, voice tight but steady.

Tove nods once, sharp and precise. “Understood.”

The two spies rise smoothly, moving with practiced silence as they gather their things. The soft click of laptops shutting down and the faint rustle of clothing fill the room.

Liv watches them go, her gaze lingering on their backs as they disappear down the hallway.

The Manor feels suddenly vast and still, the faint hum of electronics the only sound. 

Then, from the shadows across the room, a presence coalesces - subtle at first, like a shift in the air, then unmistakable.

Her face is pale and cold as porcelain, unmarred by age. She is draped in layered robes of ivory and spectral gray. Despite her beauty, there is nothing human in the way she carries herself.

Sitting opposite Liv is the Great Mother.

“I can’t even rest for a minute,” Liv mutters, folding her arms. “You’re everywhere.”

Rei’s lips curl into a faint, amused hum. “From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Liv scowls, looking away. “It wasn’t.”

A soft, eerie chuckle ripples through the space.

“Since you’re here, might as well get to the point,” Liv says, meeting Rei’s piercing red eyes. “I want to make a statement about the Shuuin’s future tonight. But I can’t do that without knowing the past.”

Rei inclines her head, eyes narrowing. “You know the past.”

“I know what you told me,” Liv replies. 

The Great Mother’s gaze drifts toward the shadows in the room, distant and unreadable. “You were never meant to see it all directly. The memories span millennia - battle, blood, pain - too vast for one to hold whole. You must rely on us.”

Liv’s brow furrows. “How do I know you’re not lying?”

Rei’s tone drops, steady and grave, “Because we cannot. The consuming ritual binds us to truth.”

Liv groans, leaning back. “Figures.”

The silence stretches as Rei folds her long fingers in her lap like a queen awaiting judgment.

“The Shuuin of old were nothing like the clan you know,” Rei begins, voice slow and heavy with age. “Not nobles. Not even a clan, truly.”

Liv’s gaze lowers, jaw tightens, absorbing the weight.

“We were wanderers, scholars, monks, vagabonds obsessed with cursed energy’s mysteries. Anyone who fit the bill could call themselves Shuuin.” Rei’s voice sharpens. “We moved without chains, answering to no one.”

She leans forward, eyes burning. “When the Fujiwara and imperial bloodlines began to rely on sorcerers and onmyoji in the late Nara period, they saw us as fanatics, oddities. We thrived in that shadow - for a time.”

“Power, though, draws eyes,” Rei continues, voice hardening. “Noble houses hunted us nearly to extinction during the Heian era. We fled, hiding deep in the woods. Hida was our refuge, fiercely guarded.”

Liv’s pulse quickens.

Rei’s voice softens, almost reverent. “And in those woods, a child was born - one destined to change everything. Ryomen Sukuna.”

Liv narrows her eyes.

“We shared a father,” Rei says quietly. “A nobleman drunk on entitlement. Neither of us earned a name from him.”

Liv studies Rei’s face.

“The people gave us names. He was ‘Sukuna.’ I was ‘Rei no Shuuin.’ The name stuck.”

Rei glides slowly across the room, voice laced with ancient sorrow. “Sukuna was destruction made flesh; brutal, untethered, divine. His anger rotted the earth; his curses felled the skies. Even as a child, he was feared.”

Liv swallows hard, a chill threading through her.

“I was weaker,” Rei admits reluctantly. “No cursed technique, barely a foothold in power. Useless, feral.”

“Then what?” Liv asks softly.

Rei smiles faintly, a shadow of something long buried. “A sorcerer - scientist to his bones - saw promise in me. Taught me cursed energy’s secrets, many I wove into Shuuin tradition.”

Liv’s eyes flicker with curiosity. “Before Sukuna turned on you?”

Rei nods. “Eventually, I learned to shape cursed energy without a technique. The Shuuin master trained me. Sukuna grew curious, spending time with me all of a sudden."

Liv smirks. “You wanted his attention.”

Rei scoffs, bitter amusement in her voice. “Sukuna saw us all as insects beneath his throne. He wanted nothing but chaos.”

Liv’s voice drops. “You make him sound like a demi-god. But history paints him a monster.”

Rei’s eyes darken. “History is written by survivors. He’d scoff at my attempts to soften that image.”

Liv mutters, “Maybe he’d like it.”

They hold each other’s gaze, silence stretching heavy between them.

“If this becomes public,” Liv whispers, “I won’t be able to protect the Shuuin.”

Rei steps closer, voice low and cold as stone.

“You fear tying the Shuuin to Sukuna’s legacy. Remember - we endured before and after him. And you, pup,” her eyes gleam. “You sell yourself short.”

Liv crosses her arms, jaw clenched. “The skill I possess is effective in subterfuge and espionage. I was foolish to believe I could take on full-fledged sorcerers. The spar with Satoru proved as much. I have no cursed technique and no Domain."

“Who said you don’t?” Rei tilts her head, voice teasing.

Liv blinks, disbelief flashing across her face.

Rei chuckles, shaking her head. “This is why I told you not to trust those sorcerers. Bogus and bullshit, all day long.”

“Seriously?” Liv challenges.

Rei nods solemnly. “I’m bound to you, forced to speak only truth.”

She raises a hand, tracing a shimmering circle of cursed energy in the air.

“A Domain is so forceful that reality bends around it. It’s rooted in your Innate Domain, your sense of self, not your cursed technique.”

Liv frowns. “Then why do sorcerers need a technique to build their Domain Expansion?”

Rei’s laugh is dry and sharp. “Centuries of ignorance. Most kids show techniques by a certain age, so they etch them into Domains as weapons.”

She flicks her hand; the circle dissolves.

“Techniques are like paintings. Cursed energy, the brush. If the brushwork’s sloppy, the painting falls apart - no matter how grand the idea. Technique inheritance is just a slight headstart.”

Liv’s voice is almost a whisper. “You’re saying I could develop my own technique?”

Rei’s eyes sparkle. “With time, control, and imagination. But first, master the basics. Breath. Heartbeat. Sweat. Flow. Reinforcement. Reversal. Redirection. Every damn twitch.”

Liv nods slowly, weight settling in.

Rei smirks. “That boy you call husband? He wasted years chasing a technique before nailing the basics. Good fundamentals can crush flashy tricks any day.”

Liv scoffs, a ghost of a smile. “You really hate sorcerers.”

“I hate laziness, arrogance, and entitlement,” Rei answers coldly. “When children play with something sacred, it’s sacrilege.”

She rises, floating slightly above the floor, arms folded like a sovereign.

“You are Shuuin. Ingenuity and wit are your birthright. The world feared us once. If you will it, it can fear us again.”

Liv clenches her jaw, breath steadying.

And with that, Rei dissolves into mist, leaving behind only a faint echo of power.

Liv sits, fingers pressed before her lips, thoughts racing like wildfire.

They will either fade into nothing or carve a myth to outlast time.

Shoko’s words echo in the back of her mind. Just figure out what’s worth saving.

She exhales, steeling her resolve.

She knows now.

Chapter 23: What's Worth Saving Part II

November 12th, 2006. / 12:01 / Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The cave still smolders.

Its walls are scorched black, veins of ash split across the stone like old scars reopened. Blood clings to the floor in dark pools, too thick to soak into the earth. The wind cuts through the wreckage, sharp, cold, and heavy with the scent of incense and ozone.

Liv stands in the heart of the ruin, chest rising and falling, arms trembling from exhaustion. Her jacket is singed to her elbow, her lip split, her hands red. Her body screams, but she doesn’t lower her stance.

Across from her, the Great Mother kneels.

But there is no defeat in her stillness. 

Her purple robes are torn at the edges, her long hair tangled with soot. A thin slash cuts across her collarbone - the only wound she’s taken - and it’s already healing. Her back is straight, her gaze level.

“You lost,” Liv says, her voice raw. “Lift the Vow.”

The Great Mother lifts her head. Her eyes - ageless garnet eyes - glint like polished glass. 

“I do not yield,” she replies calmly.

“You’re on your knees.”

“As dictated by the rites,” the matriarch answers.

Rage curls in Liv’s gut like acid.

“You made it a test of strength.”

“No,” the Great Mother says, “you did.”

The wind sighs through the broken rafters above. Liv’s hands lower an inch, not from fatigue, but futility.

“So what would satisfy you?” she demands. “More blood? I did everything you told me to do.”

“You’ve earned my respect, pup,” the Great Mother says, “but the silence stands.”

Liv stares at her, burned, bruised, beaten down to the bone, and still not enough.

“And when will it end?” she whispers. “How many generations have to live and die in secrecy before we’re allowed to breathe like people?”

“Until I say otherwise,” the Great Mother replies. 

Her words are final.

Liv exhales, shaking. Her fists clench but don’t rise. There’s nothing left to throw.

She turns, walking out of the chamber without a word.

Outside, the forest waits, barren, silent. The cedars whisper nothing. The air is bitter.

At the edge of the trail, Sumiye waits.

She’s untouched by battle. Dark cloak draped over flawless robes, posture serene, features unreadable. She stands like a shadow cast in ritual ink.

Liv doesn't look at her. Just walks past.

“She refused,” Sumiye says quietly.

“I beat her.”

Sumiye raises a brow. “Did you?”

Liv halts. Her voice cracks.

“She knelt. What more does she want?”

“You think she hasn’t survived worse?” Sumiye asks. “You think pain is the price she won’t pay?”

“I didn’t come here to be tested,” Liv growls. “I came to change something.”

Sumiye's expression shifts, just slightly. “And what did you change?”

Liv turns to her, eyes hollowed out by disbelief.

“Nothing,” she says. “That’s the problem.”

A bitter laugh tears from her throat, humorless and tired. 

“Do you know how absurd it is? That after everything I’ve done, everything I’ve achieved, I’m still at her mercy?”

Sumiye says nothing.

Liv’s voice drops. “She’s not going to lift it.”

“And yet you keep trying.”

Liv looks away, ashamed of how close she is to tears. “Because the alternative is worse. ”

There’s a long pause.

Then, she bends. She says the thought that had been there for years, unspoken until now.

“I’ll marry a sorcerer.”

 

///

 

December 6th, 2016 / 21:03 / Nankin-machi, Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan

 

Evening sinks its teeth into the city.

A cold wind cuts through the backstreets, tugging at laundry lines and shredded tarps, carrying the scent of rust, burnt paper, and stagnant rainwater. The farther Satoru walks from the lantern-lit bustle of Nankin-machi, the more the city folds in on itself - narrower roads, crumbling signage, hollow-eyed windows watching from above.

Then he feels it.

A flicker, barely there. A thread of cursed energy so faint he almost dismisses it as a flyhead, one of those harmless, low-grade pests. But something hums beneath it, a steady, unnatural pressure. Then, from somewhere ahead, a voice, chanting.

Satoru exhales and adjusts his coat.

He steps off the main path, boots splashing into shallow puddles. The alley yawns open before him, tight and crooked, walls rising like rotten teeth on either side.

At first, there’s nothing. Just darkness, the clatter of a loose tin sheet overhead, and the creak of wires swaying in the wind.

Then the whispering finds him.

It slithers through the alley like smoke; wet syllables, broken rhythm, part song, part groan.

A hunched figure kneels at the far end, draped in layers of soaked rags and moth-eaten coats. Bare feet twitch against the concrete. The man clutches something in his hands, white-knuckled and trembling. His face is smeared with grime and dried blood, his eyes rolled back into his skull.

Satoru slows.

The man jerks upright.

“Eihwaz. Sowilo. Jera,” he croaks and then shrieks, “She told me to sing it!”

His arms fly wide. A flash bursts from the object in his palms, sickly green light crawling out like mold across the walls.

The change is immediate.

His spine cracks in three places as his body folds unnaturally backward. Fingers curl into claws. Skin splits in jagged seams, bleeding black sludge that hisses on contact with the air. Cursed energy flares out in a wave so dense it distorts the alley’s outline, the world bending at the edges.

Satoru grimaces.

The creature lurches forward in a spasming half-run, half-crawl, body stretching thin and sinewy, tongue unspooling from its throat and scrawled with flickering runes.

Satoru moves faster.

A sharp snap of his fingers and Blue detonates sideways, shearing the alley wall in two. The creature smashes into the bricks with a sound like a metal drum caving in. Chunks of masonry rain down. Black sludge oozes from its mouth, alive with wriggling glyphs that burn into the concrete before disappearing.

It drags itself up.

Still alive.

Still chanting.

Satoru lifts a single finger, jaw set.

“Red.”

The explosion cleaves the alley in half.

The blast ruptures brick and steel. A concussive wave flattens trash bins, peels old posters from the walls, and leaves the air electric with static. Light flares and vanishes in a heartbeat. When the smoke clears, ash drifts down like dead moths.

What’s left of the thing is a red smear across cracked pavement and shattered tile. Bits of it twitch before melting into the stone.

Satoru steps through the carnage, shoulders squared, eyes sharp behind his shades.

Amid the ruin, one object remains intact.

The amulet.

It lies in the center of the alley, untouched by blood, glowing faintly beneath dust and char. He kneels, brushes debris off with gloved fingers, and lifts it into the streetlight’s glow.

The carvings are crude but familiar.

He turns the amulet over once, watching the runes shimmer dimly and then go still.

His gut twists.

Sighing, Satoru lifts two fingers and chants a veil spell, hiding the remnants of the fight.

He then pulls out his phone.

To: Ijichi

pack our bags

we’re done here

meet u in the lobby in 20

Then he pockets the charm and walks back toward the mouth of the alley, the smell of scorched stone and rot clinging to his coat.

The silence weighs heavier than the cold.

And as he walks, his thoughts drift to Liv.

 

///

 

December 6th, 2016. / 21:31 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The scent of pine clings to the robes. Liv draws them slowly across her shoulders, layer by layer, careful not to wrinkle the plum-dyed silk. She knots the obi without help. The mirror shows a figure too still to be hers. She lets her hair down, light waves cascading like golden ringlets against purple.

Tove waits at the door, flanked by two younger operatives in purple suits. They pass through the side corridor in silence. The floors have been scrubbed and salted. Paper lanterns burn low, casting long silhouettes across the lacquered walls. The main hall lies ahead, shielded, already secured.

Rune stands outside on the threshold, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her palms glow faintly, ink smudged at the fingertips. Six other spies are stationed along the outer ring of the Manor, weaving sigils of privacy and containment. A shimmering ward tightens around the compound like a heartbeat.

“Most of them are here,” Rune murmurs. “No one’s left the call. There are no suspicious movements or attempts. All clear.”

Liv nods.

The future of the Shuuin depends on what she decides tonight. A decade ago, she was so certain, convinced that her idea of freedom was the only way for the Shuuin to exist. Now, she wonders. 

What is freedom when it depends on a single person?

Inside the main hall, tension hums like a live wire.

The full Shuuin assembly appears on the main projector; elders in formal garb, branch family representatives in muted tones, sideliners and exiles who haven't shown their faces in years. Some watch with open hunger. Others with tight suspicion. All of them are waiting.

Waiting for the woman who stands above all.

Liv steps into the room.

The kimono flows behind her like smoke, the old plum dye catching firelight in strange ways, somewhere between dusk and bruises. Her presence draws every eye. A few elders lean forward. A young cousin puts their hand to their mouth.

She ascends the dais without a sound.

Tove closes the doors behind her. Rune dims the lights.

Liv looks into the light of the screens, into the countless faces of her kin.

She breathes in - then speaks.

“Let me tell you a story.”

And she tells it, as convincingly and vividly as she can. She tells them about the origins, the struggles of their ancestors, and the peril they were drawn into. Her words echo the regret and somberness she had heard in Rei's words when she recalled those events.

Different expressions appear across the Shuuin's faces. Some are in awe, others in disbelief; some are angry. Liv picks her words, tactfully omitting the part where Ryomen Sukuna is a blood relative.

Even so, they don't take it well.

What should’ve been a simple report has turned into an extensive, arduous discussion.

At some point, Liv stopped talking altogether. For the next half an hour, she’s been sitting on her cushion, leaning on the palm of her hand while staring at the numerous faces arguing in the live call.

As expected, several voices are louder than the majority. Among them is Akame Shuuin, one of the elders and a former contender for the position of Shuuin mistress during Sumiye’s tenure.

Akame is a shrill old woman. She upholds Shuuin traditions and rules to a fault. Hearing that their past is checkered and far from honorable has left a bitter taste in her mouth.

On the other hand, Emile Averoux, Liv’s cousin from Louisiana and staunch ally, voices caution during this sensitive time. He notes the fact that the only reason the Shuuin have persisted for a millennium is because they’ve remained in the shadows, operating inconspicuously and away from the prying eyes. 

Standing out among different opinions is Valerie Cormac, Liv’s least favorite cousin from Florida. Putting aside the fact that she and her sisters tried to make Satoru their next victim, Liv dislikes their ardor for power, prestige, and influence, as well as the transparency of their gruesome practices and open support of the American Association of Sorcerers.

Meanwhile, Tove sits quietly next to Liv. Her attentive gaze shifts between her mistress and the cacophony of voices coming from the live call. She keeps calm, yet the anxiety of the impending conflict looms over her head. 

Akame’s voice rises above the din again, sharp as winter glass.

“What is this? A desperate attempt to paint your ambitions as a necessary recourse?” the redhead seethes. “The Shuuin have learned their history from its source, and now you’re telling us the Great Mother lied? How stupid do you think we are, Liv Drakon?”

Murmurs echo in the background, most of them in agreement. Valerie doesn’t speak, but her smirk speaks volumes in silence. Emile’s frown deepens, however.

Liv raises her head.

“Challenge me, then.”

The words fall like a guillotine.

No one responds.

“Over the last seven years, you’ve accused me of dishonor, spectacle, and selfish ambition,” she says, counting on the fingers of her right hand. “You’ve criticised my rise to power, you disputed my achievements, you disregarded my authority on numerous occasions, and now, as I stand before you as the true mistress, you don’t trust my words. If I’m such a problem, then take my place.”

Still, nothing.

Akame’s expression falters; something tightens behind her eyes, flickers of doubt beneath the fury. Her hands remain in her lap.

Liv turns, slowly sweeping her gaze across the other feeds: Valerie’s fixed smile, the folded arms of the Louisiana cousins, the distant, unreadable stares of the other kinsmen. 

No one rises or comes forward.

She nods once.

Standing with deliberate grace, Liv speaks again.

“The Shuuin are disbanded.”

It’s not shouted. There is no grandstanding or overexplaining. 

Gasps erupt. Rune closes her eyes. Tove tries not to look away. Valerie rises halfway to her feet. Akame slams her palm against her table, shouting, but her voice, too late, is already a ghost against the decision made.

Then, Liv's gaze softens, touched by grief. She expected to feel more, maybe heartbreak or even guilt. Instead, she feels lighter, clearer. 

She turns from the dais, each step deliberate, echoing over the lacquered floor.

“My spies will inform you of the transition protocol,” she says without looking back. “Your cooperation is expected.”

Tove rises and follows. Rune nods once to the shadows before slipping after them. The door glides open, wards parting like breath drawn through lips.

And Liv walks out of the hall, into the night air.

She doesn’t hear the chorus of protests behind her.

“That was quick,” Tove comments, checking the comm through the earpiece. “All ops, check the parameters.”

Rune tries to keep her face neutral. “That was epic.”

Liv smirks. “Thank you.”

Tove looks ahead as she asks, “Orders, mistress?”

“I’ll be at Satoru’s tonight,” Liv says softly.

Tove looks at her, surprise all over her face. "Now?"

Liv chuckles. "I'd rather not be murdered in my sleep."

"Are you serious?" the spymaster says.

"Serious as I can be, dear Tove," Liv says, picking up pace. “In the meantime, secure the grounds and strengthen all the wards. I want the Armory monitored constantly. Call the Averouxs and have them do the same with the Archives.”

“What about your assets?” Rune asks, pressing the earpiece.

“Check with the lawyer, make sure none of them can have a piece of it,” Liv says sternly.

“Roger that,” Rune bows curtly before rushing to the side, busy with the comm.

Before Tove can follow suit, Liv grips her forearm, pulling her backward. She looks around first before leaning in, whispering into the spymaster’s ear.

“I need you to deliver a message to Mathias,” Liv says. “Tell him to prepare Nova for relocation.”

Tove frowns. “Are you worried someone might come after her?”

Liv looks away. “We don’t know what the others will do after tonight's events. I don’t want to take my chances with that child.”

The spymaster nods. “Understood.”

“Dismissed,” Liv says, and Tove leaves as well.

Standing at the top of the staircase leading away from the Manor, Liv glances at the night sky. Moon flashes through the fog and clouds, barely visible, but still there. Her phone buzzes, and she reaches into the sleeves of the kimono.

From: idiot husband

done

on my way home

Liv smiles. “Just in time.”

She puts the phone away and heads toward her car.

 

///

 

December 6th, 2016. / 23:11 / Tokyo Station, Tokyo, Japan

 

The train hums like a nerve under glass.

Outside the window, Japan blurs past in swaths of neon, snowfall, and shadow. Industrial skylines flicker, giving way to black mountains and empty farmland soaked in night. The cabin is half-empty, quiet. Satoru leans back against the seat, one leg crossed, his coat draped over his lap.

His shades are off. The reflection in the window shows tired eyes and blood still crusted faintly beneath one ear.

He hasn’t spoken since boarding. Ijichi sits three rows ahead, half-asleep and clutching a steaming cup of canned coffee. He knows better than to disturb the silence.

Satoru scrolls lazily through the last few messages. Most are mission logs, unanswered questions, and one sternly polite follow-up from Utahime.

Then, as the train rounds a curve near Yokohama, his phone buzzes again.

From: darling wife

At the penthouse

Got a surprise for you

He stares at the screen for a long moment. The train keeps moving. Outside, the lights of Tokyo begin to bloom in the distance. Satoru slips the phone into his coat pocket. His mouth twitches, not quite a smile.

Then he closes his eyes.

 

///

 

December 6th, 2016. / 23:56 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

The penthouse smells like stormwater and cedar.

Liv left the balcony door open.

She stands barefoot near the edge of the glass railing, hair down, bathrobe clutched loosely around her. The city sprawls below. Roppongi’s lights are dancing across her skin in fractured golds and reds. Far in the distance, the towers of Shinjuku gleam like swords in the dark.

She doesn’t look back when the lift sings and the door slides open behind her.

Satoru steps inside, wind tugging at the hem of his coat. He sheds it without a word, letting it fall across the velvet bench. His boots are still damp when he discards them in a random direction.

He is drawn to her by an invisible force that not even his Six Eyes can explain. Her scent, addictive, familiar, pulls him bit by bit until he is only a breath away. He raises his hands, about to embrace her -

She finally speaks.

“I’ve got something to tell you.”

He doesn’t ask what she means. He knows it’s probably not good news.

“Funny,” he muses. “I’ve got something to tell you, too.”

She turns to face him, eyes shadowed by the windblown strands of her hair. Her mouth is set, but her hands shake slightly, whether from cold or from something deeper, she doesn’t say.

He sighs, inviting her into his embrace. Liv exhales, bringing her arms around his midriff. For a moment, the only sound is the hum of the heater and the distant throb of sirens somewhere down in Minato.

Then she whispers, more to herself than to him, “I disbanded the Shuuin.”

Satoru says nothing. Instead, he presses his lips against the crown of her head. Thoughts are raging inside his mind, calculating, predicting all the possible outcomes. She can hear them, of course, but she lets him go through the motions.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he says, “Alright.”

Her eyes lift to his. And for the first time that night, her composure breaks.

Just slightly.

“Alright,” she repeats.

Satoru doesn’t smile, but something in his face softens.

He nods.

“Alright.”

Liv leans into Satoru’s chest, still gripping the folds of his shirt like she’s trying to keep herself tethered to something real. The warmth of his body helps, but it doesn’t drown the static in her bones.

Eventually, she speaks again.

“Are you mad?”

His breath hitches with a sound that might be a laugh, though there's no humor in it. He rests his chin atop her head.

“Mad?” he echoes. “A bit, but the Shuuin have always been a wreck. I kind of expected this.”

Liv huffs softly into the fabric of his shirt. “That’s bleak.”

He shrugs. “It’s honest.”

She pulls back slightly, enough to meet his eyes. His gaze is clear, almost gentle, though there’s that familiar flicker beneath it; the constant scan of threat, timing, the invisible geometry of sorcerer logic.

“So,” he says, stepping back to lean against the balcony railing, “what now?”

Liv crosses her arms, not in defiance but in thought. Her voice steadies.

“I still have my spies,” her mouth curls faintly. “I will monopolize the Armory and the Archives before someone remembers to check the locks.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow. “Ballsy.”

She continues, “The funds, holdings, access keys - they were already mine, but I’ll put it on paper just in case.”

“Mm,” Satoru taps the railing absently. “That still leaves the higher-ups. You know they’ll come sniffing the moment they hear of this, and they will hear of this.”

She nods, eyes narrowing. “I know. This is where I ask you for a favor.”

His head tilts. Her pulse jumps, but she swallows the anxiety and smiles.

“Tomorrow. Let’s talk about that tomorrow. You just got back.”

The air between them shifts. For a moment, even the noise of the city fades. He pushes off the railing, closing the space between them again. Her eyes widen slightly.

“Tomorrow then.”

She smiles at him in response, clasping her hands behind her back. They stand like that for a while, simply staring at each other.

Suddenly, the snow begins to fall.

It starts slowly, fine as powdered sugar, dancing beneath the balcony lights before vanishing against the heat of the city. Then, thicker flakes follow, catching on Liv’s lashes, dissolving in the tangle of her hair.

She tilts her face to the sky, eyes soft. Satoru glances upward as well, then exhales a dry breath. 

“Snow,” he mutters. 

Liv smiles faintly, brushing melting snow from her collarbone. He glances at her. She’s watching him again, that quiet, deliberate way she always does when she’s about to say something that matters.

“It’s your birthday,” she says.

His brow lifts, surprised despite himself. “Huh. Right.”

Liv steps closer, pulling her robe tighter as the wind shifts. Her voice drops into something quieter, gentler.

“You should make a wish.”

Satoru’s expression flickers. “A wish?”

She nods. “You are the birthday boy.”

He tilts his head. “You offering to grant it?”

She shrugs one shoulder, a wisp of snow catching in the motion. “I disbanded a thousand-year-old clan and more-or-less declared war on half the jujutsu world. I can probably handle one wish.”

A grin pulls at the corner of his mouth, slow and crooked. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

He doesn’t move for a moment. The silence stretches between them again, thick with possibility. Then, slowly, he leans in.

“In that case,” his voice is low, rougher than before, “can I have that kiss now?”

Liv doesn’t answer with words. She simply steps forward, places a hand against his cheek, and rises on her toes.

The kiss is slow. Warm. Neither hungry nor hesitant. His hands find her waist. Her fingers curl against the back of his neck. When they pull apart, the only sound is the hum of the heater and the distant murmur of traffic far below.

Satoru rests his forehead against hers.

“Best wish I’ve ever made.”

She breathes against his mouth. “Best one I ever granted.”

He kisses her again.

Then another. Then trails light pecks along her jaw, her temple, her throat.

She laughs, “Stop that.”

He hums, licking a spot at the junction of her jaw and neck, “No.”

She gently pushes him, making him look her in the eye. His eyes betray his intentions. It doesn’t take a mind-reader to figure out what he wants to do tonight.

Liv clears her throat. “You said you had something to tell me.”

His gaze drifts back to her legs, robe just barely holding the line of modesty, strands of hair still damp from snow.

“Tomorrow.”

“Satoru,” she says, catching the look.

A low grumble escapes his throat as he nuzzles into the crook of her neck. “Still my birthday, you know.”

She tilts her head. “And?”

“And I think,” he murmurs, kissing her cheek, “I’m supposed to be pleasuring my wife instead of bothering her with work.”

He’s close enough to kiss her again, but just before their lips meet, Liv grins and ducks beneath his chin.

“Cake.”

Satoru blinks. “What?”

She slips past him, bare feet whispering against the polished wood, and heads for the kitchen island. “I brought cake. Bourbon chestnut. From that shop you like near Ebisu.”

He turns, incredulous. “You’re dodging me. Me.”

She’s already pulling a box from the fridge, ignoring the dramatic betrayal in his voice.

“You shouldn’t be greedy,” she says lightly, fetching a knife.

Satoru leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes tracking her movements. 

“I disagree,” he says, staring pointedly at her bare legs as she reaches for a knife.

Liv glances over her shoulder.

Without missing a beat, she slaps his shoulder. “Plates. Now.”

Satoru sighs, utterly defeated, as he fetches them from the cabinet. But when she slices the first piece, she glances at him from the corner of her eye.

And finds him already watching her.

She doesn’t comment on the look.

But she smiles.

Notes:

Hi there!

Thank you so much for reading AWITFOL, I'm beyond grateful. The creative juices are running and I'm making the most of it while I can.

Once again, thank you! Do leave comments below, I always welcome constructive criticism.

Until next time!

Chapter 24: What's Worth Saving Part III

August 3rd, 2005. / 20:47 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

There is something immensely endearing about summer.

The zenith sun, cool water on bare skin, the scent of citrus, mint, and sunscreen - these are the things Liv associates with summer.

Tokyo tends to be especially warm during the summer. Like many other cosmopolitan metropolises across the world, Tokyo is a concrete jungle, where residents suffocate in the humid heat and unbearable temperatures. Most prefer to remain indoors unless leaving their home is necessary.

For those living on the outskirts of the great city, a retreat under the shade with a round of refreshments is an option: lemonade, grape soda, or just plain sugar-free tonic water. Liv herself prefers tonic to the otherwise sweeter beverages. However, tonight, when the sunshine is replaced with pale moonlight, she savors warmth instead of chill.

Strong arms circle her waist, keeping her in place. Her back is pressed snugly against a strong chest while her legs are intertwined with another pair, which are significantly longer than hers. Instead of a neat braid, her blond locks form ripples on the pillow beneath her head. Pale blush adorns her shoulders, cheeks, and neck, with a couple of purplish love bites dotting her collarbones, stomach, inner thighs, and buttocks.

It seems surreal, almost like a hazy dream. Granted, Liv never imagined she'd lose her virginity to a boy she had known since they were children. The books she has read (romance novels, which she abhors at this point) speak of the 'act of love' as something special, wonderful, and cherished. 

What she shared with Satoru wasn’t sacred. But it wasn’t meaningless either.

Which is it for you, though ? she wonders briefly, her fingertips tracing the back of his palm absentmindedly.

Liv sighs.

Pointless anyway, she concludes before nuzzling into the pillow. 

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016. / 05:27 / Gojo Residence, Roppongi, Tokyo, Japan

 

Dawn hasn’t arrived yet.

The world remains wrapped in velvet blue, the kind of hush that only exists before sunrise - too early for traffic, too late for nightlife. Outside the tall windows, the snow still falls in slow spirals, settling on rooftops and branches like sugar on a sleeping city.

The penthouse is dim, the lights still off.

And under the heavy warmth of the duvet, they lie half-awake in each other’s arms, suspended in that quiet hour between dreams and reality.

Liv stirs first.

Her fingers move lazily against Satoru’s chest, tracing absent patterns beneath the hem of his shirt. His arm tightens slightly around her, instinctively, anchoring her closer.

She shifts to face him fully.

The dream is still vivid in her mind, a memory of a time more innocent and carefree. They were practically children, but they’ve never been treated as such. What started as curiosity soon turned into a need for comfort. 

They found solace in each other.

A soft smile graces her features as she looks at Satoru’s sleeping form. His eyes are still closed, lashes casting faint shadows. There’s a faint indentation on his cheek from the pillow, and the edge of a rare, sleepy smile playing on his lips.

Liv leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Mm,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. “Again.”

She kisses him again, this time properly. When they part, she brushes her nose lightly against his.

“Good morning.”

His grin deepens, lazy and impossibly content.

“For once,” he says, “it is.”

Liv tucks her head beneath his chin, settling into his arms. He pulls her in fully now, burying a hand in her hair, and breathes deep.

Her hair smells like bergamot. He kisses the crown of her head, lingering there.

They stay like that for a while. Nothing spoken, nothing urgent. Just warmth, limbs tangled beneath the covers, the slow rhythm of breath and heartbeat, the stillness between two people who no longer need to fill silence with anything but presence.

Eventually, Liv murmurs, “We should get up.”

Satoru groans dramatically and tightens his grip. “No.”

She chuckles softly. “Don’t you have work?”

“Yes, but I’m always late.”

Liv shifts slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at him. His white hair fans out against the pillow, the strands catching the faint blue light like threads of silk. His eyes are open now, watching her and only her.

“It’s snowing,” she reminds him. “It’ll be difficult for you to reach Jujutsu High. Your students will have to wait for you.”

“They’re used to me being late,” he replies, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “Besides, it’s the first snow of the winter. I want to enjoy the view with my wife.”

She arches her brow. “That’s dangerously close to poetry.”

“I do have a particular talent for haiku composition.”

“Oh, please,” Liv laughs, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. 

Satoru rolls them suddenly, pinning her gently beneath him. “I even have a masterpiece. ‘Nanami broods deep / salaryman’s cursed wisdom / I nap through his grief.’ ”

“Wow, impressive indeed,” Liv deadpans.

He grins and kisses her again before rolling off and tossing an arm over his eyes.

She lies beside him, breathing in sync for a few moments longer.

Then, more quietly, she asks, “What did you want to tell me last night?”

Satoru doesn’t answer right away. He drops his arm back down and stares at the ceiling, the humor from a moment ago bleeding out of his expression. He hates how their moments of bliss are so fragile that a single sentence can crumble them easily.

“Heartless woman,” he grumbles, pouting. “I didn’t even have breakfast yet.”

Liv smirks. "I'll make some breakfast then.”

Uncertain expression settles on his features before he nods. Kissing his cheek, Liv throws the covers away and heads to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Satoru shifts, sitting up slightly, and reaches to the nightstand where his coat still hangs over the edge. From the inner pocket, he draws out the amulet.

The thing feels heavy in his hands, even though the initial spell is long inactive. Traces of cursed energy are there, however, and it is the only indication that the thing is not a toy.

Standing up, Satoru makes his way to the living room. He sees Liv at the kitchen island, chopping away. An assortment of fruit, vegetables, and condiments fills the countertop, along with a large loaf of bread. 

She’s in a pair of sweats and a shirt, both of which she took from his closet. He wonders if he’ll get those back or if she’ll conveniently hide them in some forgotten drawer in the Manor.

I can try to take them off her.

A lazy smile rests on his lips as he walks toward her, circling his arms around her waist. He plays with the hem of the shirt, scrunching it in his fists while holding her by the hips.

“Don’t mind me,” he mumbles against her hair, fingers curling into the hem of her shirt.

She laughs softly, her body tilting back into his. “Behave, husband.”

“You’re making that very hard,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below her jaw.

His lips are soft and warm. She sighs as he showers her with heated affection. But she also knows that unless she draws the line, he’ll take her to bed next.

And she’s not yet ready for that.

“Satoru, come on, don't do that,” she says with a slight moan, effectively changing the subject. “What is it that you wanted to tell me?”

Satoru stops his ministrations at once. The image of the contorted creature, splatter of tissue, blood, and innards, flashes through his mind. He wishes he could somehow burn away the memory. 

Alas, that has always been a fruitless endeavor in his line of work.

A frustrated huff escapes his throat before he shows her the amulet. The mood shifts as Liv’s eyes narrow the moment she sees it. She abandons the breakfast and focuses her attention on the jewelry.

“I thought it was a flyhead at first,” Satoru explains, “but it wasn’t.”

She picks up the amulet carefully. Her fingers turn it over a couple of times in her hand.

“Kobe case?” she asks, her eyes on the amulet.

He hums. “The man who had it was already cursed. This thing pushed him over the edge, and he turned into a curse before my eyes. Familiar?”

“Eihwaz, Sowilo, Jera,” Liv says automatically, eyes narrowing. “Rune triad for transformation, clarity, and harvest. That’s one powerful charm.”

“He repeated those words,” Satoru says, holding her tightly. “Said ‘she’ told him to do so.”

“Female curse users. Now that’s rare,” Liv comments off-handedly before looking at her husband over her shoulder. “It's similar to the Fukushima evidence. That one was intangible, but this one seems to be legit.”

He nods, frowning. Although he says nothing, his thoughts are loud enough for Liv to pick up on his suspicions.

“Satoru - “

He sucks his teeth. “I know it’s not you, it’s just - you know, I hate that mind-reading thing of yours! I can’t even entertain ideas.”

Liv rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, darling, I don’t mind you fantasizing about me.”

“See?!” he whines, resting his chin atop her head. “No privacy at all.”

Her response is a soft jab of her elbow into his stomach.

She then sets the amulet down with more force than intended. Satoru watches her.

He asks gently, “Seriously now, what’s your read on it? Any idea who it might be behind this?”

Liv leans back, folding her arms. “This particular charm is for abundance and good fortune. While the script is better, whoever did this still doesn’t know how galdr works. This is a work of a sorcerer, that much is clear.”

“What do you mean?”

Liv takes a deep breath. “Difference in method and approach. Nordic shamanism isn’t like Jujutsu sorcery. It doesn’t rely on subtraction. If the ritual is incomplete, it fails. A shaman would've known this; a sorcerer - not so much.”

He nods, eyes narrowing at the mention of ritual precision.

“In other words,” Satoru muses out loud, “it wasn't the amulet that created the curse.”

She nods. “My guess is, the poor man was cursed first, and then whoever cursed him tried to amplify the effects with a galdr charm.”

“Did it fail, then?” 

Liv shakes her head. “I can’t say for certain. From what I’m sensing, the amulet is not even active.”

Satoru shakes his head. “No. It’s got residuals, but that’s about it.”

“Think you could use those to find the culprit?” she asks.

“They could be anywhere at this point,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I hate when the mission is not one-off.”

“I’m sorry,” Liv says, rubbing his arm.

She then reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together. A beat of silence passes.

"It happens," he sighs, then Satoru glances at her sideways. “You said you had something to tell me, too.”

Liv hesitates. She looks out the window, where the first hint of sunlight brushes against distant rooftops, soft and cold. 

She chuckles. It sounded a lot easier in her head.

“Liv,” Satoru says, cradling her chin. “Talk to me.”

Closing her eyes, she savors the warmth of his embrace. “Remember how you didn’t want me near Yuta because you didn’t know if the kid had a Domain or not?”

He hums, nodding.

“If I told you I could have a Domain,” she mutters, “would you believe me?”

Satoru blinks, taken off guard. “Liv, what - ”

She leans into him. “After the consuming ritual, I gained access to the Shuuin ancestral knowledge.”

A pause.

“It’s possible.”

He turns her around, holding her by the shoulders. 

“How?” he asks, uncertain.

She sighs. “The cursed energy is the rod around which all techniques pivot. You don’t need a technique to create a Domain - you only need to be able to bring out your Innate Domain through force into existence.”

“There are rules and logic when it comes to curses, Liv, you know that,” he says, his grip tightening. “Domains amplify techniques. They’re the extension of them, not separate.”

Liv shrugs. “There are many things we’ve considered impossible.”

Satoru asks, voice quieter now. “Okay, let’s say it’s possible - attaining a Domain is a pipedream for most sorcerers. Nanami never got one, even though he's like super talented.”

Liv nods. Satoru is quiet for a long moment.

"You won't let this go, will you?"

She shrugs. "If you don't want to help, that's fine - "

"Of course I want to help," he rolls his eyes. “I will help you. But don’t expect it to be pleasant.”

She smirks. "Yes, sir."

Satoru grunts as he leans in, brushing a kiss against her temple. “But I want compensation for my efforts.”

“Oh?” Liv arches a brow. “Such as?”

He grins, running his hands down her spine, slowing near the curve of her back. “Read my mind and you’ll know.”

She smirks. “Perv.”

His smile only widens.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016. / 07:13 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

A dozen surveillance tabs flicker open - infrared, color, cursed overlays - covering every hall, wall, and rooftop. 

Rune crouches beside the main panel, stylus in hand, tapping a sequence across the interface. Her posture is relaxed, but her eyes are sharp, following the flickers of motion across a high-pulse corridor feed.

“No irregularities on the southern watch,” she murmurs.

Tove crosses her arms, standing a few steps behind.

“West is clear too. All personnel reported in.”

“Even Dorian?” Rune asks, glancing up.

Tove nods. “Even him. Checked in from Chiba six minutes early. Punctual for once.”

Rune huffs quietly. “That’s a first.”

A moment of silence.

Rune pulls up the morning status grid, columns of call signs, heart rates, curse signature identifiers, and vocal confirmation logs scrolling past.

“Nothing amiss in the numbers,” she says at last. “Attendance is full.”

Tove steps closer, resting one hand on the edge of the table, her voice low. “That's not right. We're missing something.”

A pulse of white catches Rune’s eye.

She glances toward the tall slit windows at the edge of the surveillance bay—and pauses.

Outside, snow is falling again. Thick flakes drift gently across the trees, layering the flagstones and bare branches in a fresh white hush.

Rune leans forward, a flicker of expression softening her face.

“First snow,” she whispers.

Tove turns, following her gaze. Her eyes are narrow, thoughtful.

“In Japan,” Rune continues, “they say that if you see the first snow with someone you love, you’ll stay together.”

Tove hums. “In Norway, the date of the first snowfall predicts the number of snowfalls in the winter.”

Rune half-smiles. “Seven, then? Lucky.”

“If only we had some luck now,” Tove answers quietly. “We need all the help we can get.”

The room falls still.

Then, a chime.

Rune’s comm crackles to life with a shrill, high-priority signal. She straightens instantly.

INCOMING CALL

CHANNEL: ENCRYPTED / TEMPLE VEIN

SENDER: TATSUO SHUUIN

Tove's eyes widen.

“No way,” Rune mutters.

“Patch it through,” Tove says, moving to the console.

A moment later, the main screen flickers, then stabilizes into a crisp, high-resolution feed.

Tatsumo Shuuin appears, seated in what looks like a French manor house study. His face is ancient but dignified, lined by age, not decay. Snow-white hair pulled back into a low knot, formal robes layered with foreign tailoring, and eyes like ice that’s never melted. Despite his advanced years, his posture is impeccable.

Rune stiffens. Tove offers a shallow bow.

“Tatsuo-sama,” Tove says.

“Spymaster,” he greets, voice unusually smooth. “Rune-chan.”

“Herre,” Rune replies, respectfully but not without wariness.

“Request for transport from Hanada Airport,” Tatsuo says without preamble. “I will arrive in Japan within the next forty-eight hours. I need to speak with my mistress.”

Tove doesn't mask her surprise. “May I ask in what capacity, sir?”

“As the eldest among the Shuuin,” Tatsuo says, smiling, “and as her only advisor currently, at least until we're formally dissolved.”

Rune glances sideways at Tove, reading the tension in her stance. Tatsuo’s presence on Japanese soil could shift the balance entirely.

“I do not intend to undermine her, spymaster,” Tatsuo adds, eyes narrowing. “I'll need you to assist with my arrival, secure my travel, and ensure I am not intercepted.”

Tove straightens. “Understood. I’ll dispatch a team to Hanada Airport. You’ll have eyes on you the moment you land on the island.”

Tatsuo nods once.

“One more thing,” he says. “This is between us and the mistress, no one else.”

The line cuts before either woman can respond.

The screen returns to black.

Rune exhales.

“That’s not good, right?”

“No,” Tove agrees. “That’s not good.”

She turns toward the window, the dawn finally cresting over the horizon, light catching the snow-covered fields beyond the Manor.

“It never ends,” she mutters before looking at the redhead next to her, “does it?”

Rune merely lowers her head.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016. / 12:55 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Kinji grits his teeth, fists clenched, cursed energy radiating off him in barely controlled waves. Sweat beads on his brow despite the crisp winter air, and the faint hum of instability crackles like static around his body.

“Focus, Hakari,” Satoru calls from a few meters back, voice even, arms folded over his chest. “Not more power. More control.”

Kirara is off to the side, seated on the edge of a concrete step, legs crossed and chin in hand. He chews on a lollipop stick, eyes half-lidded, unimpressed.

“He’s just going to burn himself out again,” he mutters. “He’s always like this when he’s forcing it.”

Kinji ignores them, or tries to. The cursed energy flares again, wild and unfocused. His body jolts slightly, like he’s about to manifest something, but then it dies out with a hollow crack.

“Damn it,” he spits, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I had it.”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. He steps forward a little, sunglasses glinting despite the overcast sky.

“No, you didn’t,” he says calmly. “Try again.”

Kinji scowls.

“Your brute force and serrated cursed energy are your strong points,” Satoru points out, “but without focus, they’ll just dissipate in random directions. Structure before function. Find the frame first.”

Kinji’s reply is a low grunt. He rolls his neck and shakes out his arms, resetting. 

He tries again.

This time, the cursed energy builds more slowly, deliberately. It gathers around him like a slow tide instead of a crashing wave. For a split second, the air warps, and something akin to a barrier appears.

Then it collapses, and Kinji stumbles backward, nearly falling.

Satoru’s gaze drifts beyond the training grounds and to a quiet temple nestled far away, a place heavy with silence and restraint. Somewhere within those walls, a restless presence stirs, tethered yet unbound. A boy held back by forces he doesn’t yet understand, struggling to keep a storm chained inside.

Satoru exhales slowly, the weight of things unseen pressing at his mind.

Domains, curses, techniques - tangled threads in a web wider than any one of them can grasp.

He turns back, voice steady. “Try again.”

Kirara clicks his tongue. “Huh. That almost looked like something.”

Satoru silently agrees.

Not a Domain, no. But the structure? The framework? It was there, flickering beneath the surface.

And that’s what catches his attention.

The cursed energy is the rod around which all techniques pivot. You don’t need a technique to create a Domain.

At the time, it sounded like wishful thinking. The Shuuin are known for their quirky, almost witchy disposition and reverence toward cursed energy. One could say they’re compensating for being considered lesser in comparison to the other jujutsu clans.

Satoru adjusts his sunglasses, looking at Kinji. It’s possible, he thinks, gaze sharpening. If a Domain is a structure, then the Technique is just one path to that shape.

Kinji slumps down onto the grass, panting hard. 

“This sucks,” he mutters.

Satoru tilts his head. “You’re closer than you think.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

Kirara tosses him a bottle of water without getting up. “You’re dramatic. You nearly blew up the fence last time and still lived. You’ll live through this, too.”

Satoru turns away, hiding the small crease that tugs at his mouth.

If Kinji’s cursed energy can generate a structure through instinct alone, then Liv’s theory isn’t just possible - it’s replicable.

He pockets the thought for later.

For now, Kinji needs another round.

“Five minutes,” Satoru calls out. “Then we go again.”

“Can’t I die in peace first?” Kinji croaks.

“Nope.”

The boy smiles faintly and steps back into position.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016. / 13:22 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The wind is crisp when Liv returns to the Manor. Snow gathers around the house like lace, delicate but unyielding. Her boots crunch softly across the gravel path, her breath misting in the winter air as she pauses before the doors. 

The house greets her with its usual coolness. Warmth hums from the floor heating beneath her soles, but it doesn’t reach the walls. She shrugs off her coat and kimono and hangs them on the nearby rack, scanning the entrance hall for any sign of Tove or Rune. 

She finds none. Just the hush of old stone and muffled footsteps behind sliding screens.

She doesn’t wait long, though.

Tove finds her on the patio, just outside the living room, where Liv pauses to watch the falling snow.

“Get back asap,” Liv says, not looking at the spymaster. "That's ominous, even for you." 

“He’s coming,” Tove says without preamble, her voice lowered.

Liv turns, brows raised. “He who?”

Tove’s expression is grim but composed. “Lord Tatsuo.”

The name lands with quiet weight.

Liv says nothing at first, eyes flicking past Tove to the courtyard where thin layers of frost cling to the paving stones. The snow is falling in larger flakes now, gathering along the base of the camellia bushes like powdered ash.

“When?” she asks.

“Within the next forty-two hours,” Tove replies. “He reached out through the old encrypted channel.”

Liv exhales through her nose. Tatsuo Shuuin. The only elder who had spoken in her defense nearly twenty years ago, when her demonstratively mother exiled her. He had not stopped it - he couldn’t - but he had enough guts to speak against his mistress at the time.

“And he didn’t give a reason?”

Tove shakes her head. “Only that he intends to speak with you directly. He requested complete discretion and privacy.”

Liv’s jaw tightens slightly. She turns from the snow and begins walking. Tove falls into step beside her.

“Prepare the Manor, have it cleaned from floor to ceiling,” Liv says after a long silence. 

Tove nods once. “And the personnel?”

“No changes,” she says, then pauses, turning into one of the rooms serving as a study. “I don’t want to make our suspicion blatantly obvious.”

Tove closes the shoji door behind them. Liv leans against the edge of the table, arms folded. Her posture is relaxed, but her mind is already working through permutations. If Tatsuo is coming, something is amiss. He doesn't involve himself in politics unless he must.

“He's old, not stupid,” she says. “He knows how his visit would be interpreted.”

Tove’s brows furrow. “Do you think he’s bringing trouble with him?”

“I think he’ll come with information. Leverage, maybe, or an offer,” Liv’s voice is quiet, but there’s steel under it. “Or maybe, if I’m lucky, he’s here about something unrelated to the Shuuin.”

There’s a long pause between them.

Tove studies her carefully, then exhales. “I’ll handle the arrangements.”

Liv nods. “Good. And Tove - ”

The dark-haired spymaster stops at the door.

“ - No one hears about this outside this house.”

“Understood.”

The door slides shut with a soft click.

Liv remains in the study, gaze fixed on a point far beyond the frost-covered window. Snow clings to the tips of the bamboo just outside. 

Her reflection stares back at her faintly in the glass.

Chapter 25: What's Worth Saving Part IV

December 7th, 2016. / 13:45 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The temple smells like old wood and snow. That kind of clean, cold scent that sticks to your sleeves, mixed with the faint sharpness of incense someone burned hours ago. It’s always quiet, save for the wind moving through the eaves and the occasional rustle of birds landing on the roof.

Yuta sits on the steps with a can of hot tea pressed between his hands. The warmth seeps through his gloves slowly. He doesn’t drink it. The label reads "barley tea" in plain katakana, the kind you can find at any vending machine. It tastes bitter. He likes the weight of it.

Across the courtyard, someone rakes the gravel into perfect lines again. He doesn’t know the man’s name. They never talk. Just nod at each other sometimes.

It’s been a few days since they brought him here. He hasn’t left the grounds since. The place isn’t locked, technically, but he wouldn’t know where to go even if he walked out. And no one told him he couldn’t leave, but no one told him he should either.

So he stays.

There’s a schedule. Meals show up like clockwork. A folded futon and clean clothes every three days. Sometimes a book is left on the table by someone unseen. At noon, after lunch, he is allowed a walk around the temple premises, chaperoned by an abbot.

It is as if the whole place is trying not to startle him.

He thinks about his family sometimes. His sister, especially. She’s probably angry at him by now. Yuta hasn’t answered her texts. Not even the short ones. Where are you? Are you safe? Call us, please.

He doesn’t know how to put this into words. Not the temple, or the people, or what happened in school. How do you say: I think I hurt people, but maybe it wasn’t me, or maybe it was, and I don’t know?

He’d rather just sit here. Watch the clouds roll by. Let the cold do its work.

He’s not sure what the people here think of him. They’re polite, but distant. He gets the feeling they’re waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe he is, too. It’s not that he doesn’t feel dangerous - 

He simply feels nothing at all.

Some days, he wakes up with his heart racing, hands clenched, convinced he heard someone calling his name. But nothing ever follows.

He keeps the ring on the nightstand. The one that he got from Rika. It doesn’t shine like it used to. He turns it sometimes, absently. 

A crow caws loudly, flapping up from the temple roof. Yuta flinches, then relaxes again. 

He's curious if there are others like him. He used to think no one else saw the kind of things he did. He still believes that. Whatever happened to him, it doesn’t feel normal. Not like a sickness, though, but not far off. 

He doesn’t know the rules of this place. Doesn’t ask. Someone told him once that this was government-sanctioned. Some kind of protection program. Special classification. He didn’t ask for details.

He stands up eventually, stretches his arms overhead. His legs are stiff from sitting too long. He walks the edge of the wooden veranda, heel to toe like a tightrope, careful not to fall into the gravel. That’s something he used to do as a kid.

He wonders if he’ll ever feel like a kid again.

Inside the temple, everything is in its place: clean mats, folded blankets, a scroll of calligraphy he can’t read, and a single candle flickering in a brass holder. It feels like a shrine, but not to anything he recognizes.

Yuta sits down again.

He watches the snow melt from the roof. He sips his tea. He listens to the wind.

And waits, occasionally wondering if there is a point to this nothingness.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016 / 14:03 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

Snow falls without sound. Thick, deliberate flakes drift down over the outer compound, layering the steel fencing and ward pylons in cold white. 

Inside the observation bay, Mathias stands before the reinforced glass, arms folded, coat unbuttoned. Below him, within the containment cell, Nova moves like a whisper.

She’s been at it since morning.

Each movement is sharp and controlled. Her cursed energy stays coiled tight, never spilling outward. It clings to her like mist hugging a blade. She pivots with precision, feet brushing lightly against the padded floor, her expression unchanged.

He watches her closely. There’s no defiance in her face. No boredom. No fatigue. Her rhythm is mechanical, almost trance-like.

Mathias narrows his eyes. 

A chime sounds from the console behind him. He doesn’t startle, just glances at the encrypted tablet, reading the incoming message in silence.

Secured transmission / 13:58 JST
Sender: LOCK
Subject: Orders from the Mistress

Shuuin dissolution is active as of 01:23 JST.
All internal assets are to be relocated or secured in line with contingency protocols.
Priority: Nova Drakon.
Prepare for transfer. Route undisclosed. Contact limited.
Do not alert the elders. Authorized by the mistress.
Full brief to follow.
- T.

Mathias reads it again. Then he sets the tablet down slowly. The air shifts, or perhaps it's just him.

She has done it.

He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth, breathes through his nose. A strange weight settles in his chest - not quite grief, not quite relief.

He leaves the observation room and walks the main corridor in silence. The patrol guards nod as he passes. The sensor doors part for him automatically. He keeps going until he reaches the viewing deck outside Nova’s chamber.

He stops, hands resting on the steel railing.

Her eyes flick up, just for a moment. They meet him through the layers of glass.

No smile. No recognition. Just a quiet awareness.

Then she turns away, continuing her routine.

Mathias watches her for a while longer, then touches the comm at his collar.

“Prepare Pod VII for rollout,” he says quietly. “Level 5 containment. No alerts, no warnings. I want it ready within the hour. Route details will come later.”

The voice on the other end responds, low and clipped, “Yes, Commander.”

He disconnects.

Nova finishes her last turn, hands steady at her sides, breathing even. Mathias leans a little heavier against the frame. The message from Tove is still burning behind his eyes.

He doesn’t know what Liv saw. Doesn’t know what pushed her to tear the Shuuin apart after so long. Whether it was fear, strategy, or conviction. But he knows Liv. And he knows that when she makes a move like this, it’s final.

The hallway behind him stays empty. Just the snow, still falling against the compound glass,  white, slow, and endless.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016 / 17:45 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Twilight settles like silk over the Shuuin compound. The snow has stopped, leaving the courtyard hushed under a blanket of pale light. Lanterns flicker on one by one, casting amber glows across the salt-cleansed floors and narrow walkways. In the western part of the Manor, incense curls from a brass bowl; lavender and pine resin, grounding and discreet.

Tove stands at the veranda overlooking the main hall with a folder tucked under one arm, her hair pulled back tight, sleeves pushed to her elbows. Two young operatives wait silently behind her, eyes darting over barrier schematics pinned along the shoji.

“The armory stays sealed until further notice,” she says. “No changes to the spatial grid. We reinforce the inner rings tonight, leave the perimeter flexible. We don’t want Tatsuo to feel like a prisoner the second he steps through the gate.”

One of the operatives hesitates. “Are we anticipating resistance, spymaster?”

“No,” Tove answers. “But it’s good to be prepared, just in case.”

She dismisses them with a nod, turning toward the living room. 

Liv sits cross-legged on the tatami floor, half-wrapped in her purple kimono, her gaze trained on the courtyard outside. One hand rests on the windowsill, fingers absently tracing the grains in the wood.

Her mind is occupied with Tatsuo, his intentions, and what he might do. Liv was never much of a politician or diplomat, relying on her wit and Inner Eye to navigate the Shuuin. 

However, Tatsuo Shuuin is a more seasoned opponent. He has lived during her grandfather’s tenure, and has seen much of the peril the Shuuin have experienced over the last forty years. 

He has always been a voice of reason, a prime example being when he voted against allowing a sixteen-year-old Sumiye to undertake the Great Mother’s trial. He also voted against brainwashing an outsider, so the Shuuin could keep their secrets intact. Liv holds great respect for Tatsuo and has relied on his counsel greatly. His ideals and vision of the Shuuin future aligned with her own. 

That is why she is concerned with his sudden visit - if he wanted to commend her or congratulate her, he could do it over the phone.

“You're brooding,” Tove remarks, stepping inside.

Liv clears her throat. “I'm not.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Liv exhales through her nose. “Is that a crime now?”

Tove sits opposite her. “Only if you don’t share.”

For a long moment, Liv says nothing. The wind hums lightly beyond the paper screens. 

Then she murmurs, “Do you think I was wrong?”

Tove lifts an eyebrow.

“The disbanding,” Liv continues, quieter now. “Was it too soon? Was I tactless?”

Tove leans back on her palms. “You know what I think.”

Liv closes her eyes briefly. 

“You and I heard the same thing, Liv,” Tove says. “They can’t even unite in opposition. You revealing the origins of the Shuuin only made it more obvious.”

Liv’s gaze drops to her lap. “What if Tatsuo is in league with them?”

Tove watches her closely. “He has no reason to be.”

“Then why do I - ” Liv falters, then presses her fingers to her forehead. “Why do I have such a bad feeling about him coming?”

Tove tilts her head, curious. “Are you going to tell Gojo?”

Liv’s expression twists, half-guilt, half-fondness. “Do I have a choice? That man reads me like a book, and I'm supposed the be the mind reader.”

Tove’s smile is small. “Does he now?”

Before Liv can respond, her phone buzzes beside her. The screen lights up. Satoru’s name appears on it.

She stares at the name for a beat too long.

“Answer,” Tove says.

Liv presses her lips. “And tell him what?”

The spymaster nudges her foot. “Whatever you want. I reckon it’d be worse if you ignore it.”

Liv sighs, swipes the call. 

“Darling!”

She chuckles. “Hello to you, too, Satoru.”

“Sweet heavens,” Satoru’s voice is warm and amused. “I missed your voice.”

Liv scoffs. “You were with me this morning.”

“And I hope I am with you every morning for the rest of my life,” he laughs. “What’ya doing?”

Liv glances at Tove, pausing for a second too long. “Just - tying up loose ends at the Manor. You?”

“Waiting for the first-years to finish their mission,” he answers easily. “It’ll be a while before they’re done, and I’m supposed to report to the HQ after that.”

“Long day ahead of you, huh?” Liv muses out loud.

“Yeah,” Satoru sighs, clicking his tongue. “Think you could swing by, keep me company until the boys are done?”

Liv’s smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “Isn’t that against the rules?”

Tove nudges her, harder this time. Liv shakes her head while the spymaster swats her arm, nodding vigorously.

“Well,” Satoru drawls, mischief clear in his tone, “it’s not stated precisely and - “

Liv’s smile widens. “And?”

“Liv,” he says, drawing her name. “I said enough cheesy stuff for today.”

She laughs, low and soft. “My husband is supposed to shower me with sweet nothings.”

“I’d rather whisper sweet nothings to you,” he says. “Preferably somewhere warm, cozy, and far away from any intruders.”

“Such a romantic.”

“I aim to please,” he adds, voice quieter now, “but seriously now, could you come? I can buy us some snacks. It’ll be a while, and I’m cold.”

Liv glances at Tove, who in return gives her a knowing look. 

Go, the spymaster mouths.

“Send me the address,” Liv says, shaking her head at the brunette.

Tove grins, giving her a thumbs up.

“Great,” Satoru beams. “See you soon, darling wife.”

She hums. “See you soon, dear husband.”

The call ends. Liv sets the phone down with more care than necessary.

Tove lifts an eyebrow. “It’s been a while since you laughed like that.”

Liv makes a face. “Nonsense. I laugh like this all the time.”

“No, not like this,” Tove shakes her head. “It’s good for you. He is good for you.”

Liv tries to suppress a smile and fails.

“Why not have him here with you,” Tove adds, “when Tatsuo arrives?”

Liv shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“If you’re so worried about Tatsuo, Gojo could be a good buffer,” Tove counters. 

Liv is quiet for a moment. “Think so?”

Tove gives her a lopsided grin. “I wouldn’t try anything clever with Satoru Gojo sitting across from me.”

“Even if he’s stuffing his face with eclairs and making puns?” Liv deadpans.

“Especially then,” Tove says. “It’s psychological warfare.”

The laughter echoes between them. 

“He's waiting,” Tove says, urging her to leave. “I’ll hold the fort.”

Liv hums her agreement and steps into the cold. “Thanks, Tove.”

The spymaster smiles, seeing her off. 

As Liv walks toward her car, her phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a message.

From: idiot husband

gonna get ur favorite snacks

bring that pretty face of yours asap

Liv bites down a laugh and doesn’t respond immediately. She slides into the car, the engine humming to life around her, and leans back into the seat. For a moment, her hand rests over her stomach but doesn’t linger.

Later, when she pulls out of the grounds, Tove remains at the main entrance, watching the headlights fade.

Then grins and heads back inside.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016 / 18:46 / Tokyo Tower, Minato, Tokyo, Japan

 

The base of Tokyo Tower glows red against the deepening blue of evening, its steel latticework cutting up the sky like an ancient ward turned neon. Tourists have thinned out for the day, leaving only the hum of vending machines and the crackle of snow beneath their feet.

Satoru stands casually near the base, leaning against a lamppost like he’s modeling for an ad campaign he didn’t agree to. He’s in his long black coat, bandages pushed up into his hair, white lashes catching the soft orange of the tower lights. Two large konbini bags hang from his fingers, the plastic crinkling in the wind.

He brightens the moment he spots Liv stepping out of the car. Her hair is tied in a ponytail, swaying with each step, while her violet kimono is noticeably absent. Instead, she is dressed in a pair of black pants and a black shirt.

“My queen,” he calls dramatically, holding out the bags. “I brought tributes.”

Liv eyes the bags. “Do they contain gold and frankincense?”

“Better,” he grins. “Shrimp chips and melon bread.”

She raises a brow. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Always,” he says, stepping closer. “Now hold tight.”

Before she can protest, he slips an arm around her waist and with the faintest rush of wind and cursed energy, they’re standing on a small maintenance platform enclosed by glass and steel.

The city stretches out below them in shimmering veins of amber and frost-blue, breathing and infinite. It’s bitterly cold up here, wind whipping Liv’s hair across her face, but Satoru’s cursed energy makes the space feel oddly temperate, like they’ve carved out their pocket of quiet warmth in the sky.

She pulls her sleeves tighter. “I’ll never get used to this.”

He offers her a shrimp chip. She takes the chip skeptically.

“Where are the kids?” she asks.

Satoru then points down toward a cluster of rooftops near Roppongi. “Kinji’s got a dead zone about three blocks wide. Kirara is anchoring the barrier. I can see them both from here.”

Liv peers down, amused. “Stalker.”

“Supervisor,” he corrects. 

She snorts.

“They’ve been doing better lately,” he adds, softer now. “Those boys are going places. Prison, most probably, but still.”

“They’re lucky if they get that far,” Liv says.

“I’m the lucky one,” he replies easily. “I get paid to eat snacks and annoy troublesome teenagers.”

“Such noble work.”

He wiggles his brows. “I’ve always dreamed of being a role model.”

Liv tilts her head, watching him. “What about Yuta?”

Satoru turns somber. “He’s adjusting. The monks are walking on eggshells around the kid, but that’s what he needs for now. Peace and no trouble in sight.”

Liv nods, lips pursed. 

She leans on the railing a bit, her voice quieter now. “And Megumi?”

Satoru exhales, eyes narrowing slightly as he tracks a light blinking across the skyline.

“He’s been picking fights,” he says finally. “Small stuff, really, but I think it’s something else entirely. Think you could talk to him, peek into that spiky head of his?”

Liv reprimands him with a look. “I’ll see what I can do, but no name-calling in the future.”

Satoru lifts his hands in defeat. “He’s called me worse.”

“He’s thirteen, Satoru,” she deadpans, sighing. “Behave, please.”

He turns toward her, expression soft. “Okay. Sorry, darling.”

A moment passes, the wind humming faintly through the beams overhead. 

He breaks the tension with a smirk, sidling closer, “It’s rare I get a chance like this.”

“Chance? For what?”

He kisses her temple, slow and deliberate. “For a date.”

They stand like that for a while, city lights flickering far below, the glass humming faintly around them, wrapped in a pocket of peace only they can touch.

Eventually, Liv murmurs, “Dear, you suck at dating.”

Satoru beams. “I don’t know about that. You married me in the end.”

She elbows him lightly. “Certainly not for your virtues.”

“Indeed,” he agrees. “You married me for my good looks, charm, and sex prowess. Speaking of which, we should get this tension out of our system.”

Liv rolls her eyes but leans in anyway, brushing his lips with hers.

When they part, Satoru’s grin is smug as ever. “For the record, that was nowhere near what I meant.”

“Maybe you're the only one dealing with tension, husband,” she says, eyes lidded in obvious bliss.

Satoru chuckles and is about to steal a kiss when his phone buzzes. He hesitates for a moment, then shakes his head, leaning in. 

Zzz zzz.

He hums, making a sour face, “That’s Ijichi.”

She hums and licks his lower lip. Then, she kisses the corner of his mouth. 

A whine escapes his mouth as he chases her lips. “You know, it could be - “

“Satoru,” she whispers against his lips. “I'm here.”

The buzzing persists, however, and Satoru rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry. Let me just answer real quick.”

Disappointed, she swallows a retort as she leans back. He’s apologetic as he reaches for his phone, then answers the call.

“This better be important,” he seethes.

Liv can’t hear what Ijichi is saying. But she can see Satoru’s expression shift from annoyance to confusion, and then anxiety. 

Any passion he might’ve felt is gone, replaced with stoic, battle-ready focus.

“Got it,” he says somberly, standing up. “I’ll handle it.”

He hangs up and turns to her, eyes steel cold.

“What is it?” she asks. 

“Boys are in trouble,” he sighs, giving her a hand. 

Liv frowns, taking his hand. Satoru’s face turns grim as he fastens the bandages around his head. She doesn’t ask any more questions.

Instead, she lets him teleport them again.

Within seconds, they arrive on the roof of an abandoned ward facility, the sky inked in violet and stormclouds. The scent of scorched wood and cursed rot hits Liv before she even takes a step. The air feels warped; cursed technique residue, raw and recent, still clinging to the world like grease on glass.

Below, the shattered remnants of what must’ve been a training field lie in ruin. Pylons half-melted. Snow blackened. Barrier tags fluttering uselessly on broken wire. And at the far end of the wreckage, she sees them -

Kinji and Kirara.

Liv turns to her husband. “What are we dealing with, Satoru?”

He flicks his wrist, summoning the full current of his cursed energy. It blazes around him, cold and sharp.

“There are several Grade One curses at three o'clock."

She stares in disbelief. "You sent two first-years to handle Grade One curses?"

He curses under his breath. "They weren't there when I left."

The fact that Satoru was unaware of the danger makes Liv more anxious. "But, how - "

"No time," he cuts her off gently. "I’ll take care of it.”

Her gaze flickers back to the battlefield. “Kinji isn’t moving.”

“I know,” he murmurs, softer now. “Kirara’s still conscious. Get to them.”

Liv doesn’t waste another second. She leaps down, cursed energy already swirling around her fingertips. The wind obeys her instinctively, softening her landing in a crouch beside the boys.

Kirara kneels beside Kinji, hands pressed uselessly to his chest. His uniform is soaked through with blood, pooling beneath him.

“Drakon-san,” Kirara gasps, eyes wide. “I-I tried - he-he pushed me out of the way and - ”

“Don’t talk,” Liv orders, already peeling the blood-soaked fabric away. “He’s alive.”

Kinji’s skin is cold to the touch, breath barely there, the ragged edge of consciousness hanging by a thread.

She doesn’t hesitate. Reaching for the back of her neck, she traces a faint tattoo and mutters a foreign word under her breath. Markings appear all over her skin. She kneels, plants one hand against the center of his chest, the other cradling the back of his skull. 

"Above and below, protect me," she chants softly. "Deny entry to that which hunts me."

A circle forms around them, shining faintly against the debris around them.

She closes her eyes, focusing on her breath. Words fall from her lips so softly, resonating with the surrounding space. Melody echoes in every syllable, addicting.

“Hjarta mitt, sla. Blod mitt, renna. Andi minn, veittu honum kraft.”

Cursed energy surges from her hands, gold-bright, spiraling into Kinji’s body like roots digging through soil. The damage is extensive: a lung collapsed, several ribs shattered, internal bleeding pressing against his spine.

She tightens her grip and speaks again, slower this time, voice trembling but steady:

“Vid eldinn. Vid djupid. Eg binda lif vid likama tinn.”

The wind picks up around them in sudden violence, lifting snow from the ground in spiraling arcs. The runes etched into Liv’s skin shimmer faintly beneath her clothes, responding to the invocation. Her cursed energy tears into the injury with surgical precision, knitting torn tissue, slowing blood loss, and forcing breath back into collapsed lungs.

Kirara watches, frozen in place, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

Kinji convulses once beneath her hands, gasping for air, eyes fluttering.

“Shh,” Liv whispers, brushing sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

A pulse of energy bursts outward as the last of the healing locks in. Kinji’s breathing steadies. His chest rises evenly.

He slips unconscious again, but this time, peacefully.

Liv exhales, swaying slightly where she kneels. 

“You - ” Kirara chokes. “You saved him.”

“I tipped the odds into his favor,” she says. “The rest is up to him.”

Overhead, a shockwave booms through the night. Light explodes at the far end of the compound, pure blue flaring like a star being born.

Soon after, her phone rings and she picks it up.

Satoru’s voice crackles through, “You good?”

Liv hums, “We're good.”

“Okay,” he mutters. “I’m coming to you.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, letting the residual strain flow out of her limbs. Snow falls again, quietly, as if apologizing for what came before. Then, as the city lights begin to shimmer back into view, Liv reaches out and places a hand on Kirara’s trembling shoulder.

“You did well,” she murmurs. “Stay with him.”

Kirara nods, unable to speak. He merely stares at Kinji’s face, holding his hand between his palms.

In the distance, she hears the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. Satoru’s energy wraps around them gently, like a safety net being lowered after a long fall.

"Didn't know you could heal," he comments.

"I can't do it like Shoko, though," Liv doesn’t look up. 

Satoru kneels beside her, glancing over Kinji’s body, then at Liv. She leans into him for a breath. His arm wraps around her instinctively.

“What happened?” Satoru asks, looking at Kirara. 

The boy swallows a lump before stuttering, “It was fine one moment and then, the barrier faltered. I don’t know how. Kin-chan jumped in front and - “

At this point, the kid is rambling, holding onto Kinji’s hand, and Liv can hear his thoughts all over the place. She reaches for his shoulders and makes the boy look her in the eye.

“You’re both fine,” she says softly with a smile. “Everything is fine.”

“Not everything,” Satoru nearly growls, furious. “Someone will answer for this. This is foul play.”

Liv shakes her head, already noticing the gears running inside his head. “Husband - “

“Don't,” he sucks his teeth. “If we’d been a second late, they’d - “

“But. They’re. Not,” she says slowly. “Pointing fingers is useless. We don't know anything for sure.”

He curses under his breath, looking away. She touches his arm gently.

“We need to take care of them first,” she says, nodding toward the boys. 

Satoru looks at her, then at the boys, then back at Liv. A sigh escapes his throat, and he nods.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, shifting toward Kinji. “You help Kirara. I’ll handle Hakari.”

Kirara watches wistfully as his teacher carries the bigger boy in his arms. Meanwhile, Liv helps the conscious youth back on his feet.

“Let’s go,” she mutters against his hair, her arms resting around his shoulders.

They depart the scene with heavy hearts, relieved yet troubled all the same.

Chapter 26: What's Worth Saving Part V

December 7th, 2016 / 20:19 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The dormitory hums with stillness. Thin light spills from the small bedside lamp, yellowed and flickering slightly, casting long shadows over the futon where Kinji sleeps, his chest finally rising and falling with some rhythm, though the color hasn’t quite returned to his face.

The portable monitor clicks every few seconds, a pulse of red on its display keeping time with his heartbeat. Beneath the blankets, his fingers twitch once.

Kirara sits closest, back pressed to the side of the bedframe, knees drawn up tight, one hand splayed uselessly in his lap. His other hand hovers an inch above Kinji’s, uncertain, as if to touch would break something fragile.

Across the room, Liv leans against the far wall, arms crossed, one shoulder bathed in lamplight. Her eyes remain trained on the boy in the bed, but her mind is far elsewhere.

Shoko stands near the window, observing the Shuuin from across the room, exhaling through her nose.

It’s not that Liv looks particularly sad. In fact, she’s wearing that usual mask of poise; chin lifted, gaze steady, like she’s seen worse and survived it. 

And she has - they all have.

Yet there’s a quiet difference to her calm tonight; less the calculating tactician, more something maternal and raw beneath the surface. Rather, Shoko sees a concerned woman acting like a mother hen all of a sudden.

Shoko wonders where this tenderness comes from and why it seems to be targeted at children.

Liv’s eyes flick to hers, and for just a second, something raw flickers in them—too brief to name. Shoko exhales and turns away. Mind reading, she thinks wryly, remains Liv’s privilege alone.

The doctor exhales through her nose and turns around, eyes flickering at the starlit heavens instead.

Liv doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t expect Shoko to understand; she doesn’t expect anyone to understand. Most days, she doesn’t understand. Yet, the attachment she feels towards these children is as clear in her mind and heart as it can be.

Emotions aren’t rational or logical, she recalls her mother preaching. 

Perhaps Liv is atoning for years of neglecting Nova. Maybe, selfishly, she’s trying to leave a mark in this world; to be relevant in someone’s life.

She might be doing what her elders should’ve done all those years ago. Back when Riko died, when Yu died -

When Suguru left.

Liv closes her eyes, swallowing a lump. That was the day everything changed. Retrospectively, she admits there were signs of strife and turmoil in Suguru’s appearance and behavior. She noticed it then as well, but she didn’t communicate. She was a child caught up in her own grief, wallowing after Toji’s demise, fighting against her mother and clan. 

It is not an excuse; she knows that, too.

Even so, she doesn’t want that kind of fate for these boys. They deserve more, better. Their memories shouldn’t be of corpses belonging to people they venerated or witnessing their peers reach godhood, only to realize the world would never have a place for their kind. This spiral, this inevitable march toward loss - this shouldn’t be their reality.

They should be in a normal school: learning polygons, chasing each other down snowy hills, sneaking kisses behind lockers. Not - this. The world is supposed to be their oyster, just waiting for them to explore.

Instead, the world is cruel, the elders are vicious, and fate is the most brutal. In these boys, she sees flickers of who Suguru was - who he might’ve been, if the odds had ever been fair.

Kirara shifts again, folding his arms around his knees, his face buried in the crook of his elbow.

Liv finally speaks, voice low.

“He’ll live.”

Kirara nods without looking up. Shoko walks over. She checks Kinji’s vitals without saying a word. Her face is calm, clinical, but there’s a softness in her touch.

“That’s one tough kid,” she mutters. 

Liv hums faintly.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016. / 20:31 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Meanwhile, the tension in the HQ is palpable. Satoru doesn’t knock when he enters the chamber. The Council members are already seated, eyes half-lidded like old serpents waiting for the cold to claim them. The room smells like rot beneath velvet.

No one speaks at first.

Satoru steps inside the circle. His coat is still dusted with snow. His bandages hang loose, slung back across his head, revealing both eyes now, pale blue and glinting like sharpened glass.

One of the elders clears their throat. “You are expected to file missions through the official - ”

“I’m not here to file a mission report,” he cuts in.

They fall quiet again.

“I’m here to ask,” he continues, “who, exactly, signed off on the field test involving the first-years.”

There’s a shift in the air. One of the elders leans back.

“An unfortunate oversight,” murmurs another.

Satoru’s smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“Oversight,” he repeats, as though testing the flavor of the word. “That’s what you’re calling a sabotaged barrier in an overinfested zone dropped on two Grade Three students.”

“They were under our supervision,” the voice replies somewhere behind the screens. “The situation was under control - “

“Really?” he says, blinking slowly. “Because I didn’t see anyone out there but me. Either the impostor masked their cursed energy perfectly, or they had help from someone inside.”

The silence returns, this time taut.

“Mind your words, Gojo,” the elder sneers. “Disagreeing with our methods is one thing, but to suggest that we - ”

“Purposefully instigated the murder of two underage sorcerers under my nose and almost succeeded?” Satoru muses, venom dripping from his lips. “No, I would never do that.”

He steps closer. “Let’s stop pretending we don’t know what this was.”

Another elder seethes. “You overestimate our involvement.”

“And you underestimate my memory.”

Satoru glances at the lacquered walls, the low-burning lamps, the polished cruelty that’s seeped into every stone of this place.

“Same excuse every time,” he says, staring into one of the lamps. “An oversight, false report, witness confusion - always someone else’s fault.”

His gaze narrows. “Children die, but who the fuck cares around here, huh?”

There’s an audible scoff from one corner. “You’re too attached to your past, Gojo. That sentimentality will cost you.”

He smiles again, slow and vicious. 

“You never did understand,” he leans forward. “The past is what motivates me today.”

The temperature drops. His cursed energy flares, barely perceptible, just enough to make the elders sit up straighter. 

A solemn reminder to all who might’ve forgotten who is the strongest.

He turns on his heel.

“Oh,” he says, just before stepping out, “and one more thing.”

He pauses in the doorway.

“Put your hands on those kids again. I dare you.”

The echo of his footsteps trails behind him.

 

///

 

December 7th, 2016 / 20:42 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru walks with his hands buried deep in his coat pockets, his bandages already back in their place. The confrontation with the higher-ups still lingers in the space between his shoulders, a tension he didn’t throw off, because part of him wants the anger to stay.

The dorms glow faintly ahead.

He slows when he sees a familiar figure leaning against the wall just outside the entryway. Shoko doesn’t move when she spots him.

“You’re early,” she says without looking up.

“Had I stayed longer, someone would’ve kicked the bucket,” Satoru mutters, stepping beside her. 

She hums thoughtlessly. “Let me guess. They conveniently forgot to check the area?”

“They’re not even pretending anymore.”

Shoko scoffs. “Figures.”

A quiet moment passes.

“They’re okay,” she says. “Both of them.”

He nods. He already knew. Still, it’s different hearing it from her.

She crosses her arms. “Liv hasn’t left their side.”

Satoru shifts his weight. “She’s taking it hard?”

Shoko glances sideways. “Wouldn’t know. She hasn’t said a word.”

That gets his attention.

“She’s too calm,” Shoko adds. 

Satoru doesn’t smile. “That bad?”

“Concerning more like.”

Shoko straightens, looking at him directly.

“Talk to her, please.”

He gives a slow nod and pushes through the door.

The room is quiet, heavy with residual cursed energy; faint and diffused now, but unmistakably Liv’s. It clings to the air.

Kinji is asleep, half-covered in a blanket, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow. Kirara is curled on the couch, curled toward the wall, one hand hanging off the edge like a dropped thread.

Liv is seated on the floor between them, back straight, one hand resting lightly on her knee. She doesn’t move when Satoru enters, but he sees the slight tension in her fingers, the rigidity in her spine.

“It’s Shoko’s job to take care of patients,” he says, voice low.

Liv glances at him without expression. “She’s a doctor, not a nurse. She did her part.”

He steps in quietly and crouches beside her. “So did you.”

“I’m fine, Satoru.”

He doesn’t argue. 

Her eyes flick back to Kinji, then to Kirara, then settle somewhere between them. She’s not blinking as much as she should. Her jaw is locked, just barely.

He lets the silence sit for a moment.

Then he reaches out, his hand brushing against hers.

Liv doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t move toward him either. She exhales through her nose. For a second, her posture slips. Not much. Just a tilt of her shoulder. The smallest yield.

He shifts closer, letting his arm come around her without pressure.

She lets her head rest against his shoulder.

He says nothing, one hand settling lightly on her back. He presses a light kiss to her hair.

Snow starts falling again. Kinji shifts in his sleep. Kirara sighs, his hand twitching faintly in a dream.

Satoru leans his head against Liv’s.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016 / 02:46 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

The lights in the cell are dimmed, save for a muted strip that lines the base of the far wall.

Mathias stands on the upper level, resting one hand against the glass, his coat unbuttoned, his breath faint in the cold air. Below him, Nova lies on her cot, facing the wall. Her blanket is folded down neatly. She hasn’t moved in for some time.

He watches for a while.

It’s hard to say if she’s really asleep. The sensors beside him show nothing unusual: steady vitals, no cursed energy fluctuations, no distress. 

Just quiet.

Still, he lingers.

It feels much like the time shortly after the girl was born. He’d hover over her crib, his eyes glued to her while checking if she was breathing. 

Mathias exhales through his nose and looks down at her again. She can’t stay here much longer. Not when the protections around her are thinning by the hour.

Norway, he thinks. Remote, familiar terrain. Old trails blazed in the woods where no one looks anymore. Tove could set up the channels. Quietly, off-record. He’ll need to reroute the original plans, notify the handlers in segments.

A lot of work to do and not so much time to do it.

He straightens. Before turning away, he gives the cell one last look. Nova hasn’t moved. Still facing the wall.

He walks the corridor without sound, leaving the glass behind.

Seconds later, Nova opens her eyes. She doesn’t shift, just lies there, breathing evenly, the way she has for hours. The overhead light hums faintly. She glances toward the camera in the corner; one slow blink, then closes her eyes again.

Nothing happens. 

Yet, something begins to slide sideways. A narrowing of time. A pressure shift. Barely enough to be noticed (certainly not enough to be recorded).

She keeps it brief, then stops. Her hand stays tucked beneath her pillow, fingers flexed once before stilling.

I’m getting out of here, no matter what.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016 / 04:19 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

The room is still, faintly warm from the old radiator in the corner. Kinji sleeps on his side beneath a heavy fleece, breathing slowly and evenly, brow smooth. Beside him, Kirara is still on the couch, a thin blanket draped over his person.

Liv watches them for a moment longer from the doorway. The air smells faintly of old textbooks, detergent, and the bitter trace of blood staining the uniforms piled near the door.

She hardly slept a wink. A gnawing restlessness bugged her to no end, so she didn’t sleep at all, despite Satoru’s urging to at least try and rest. When she didn’t budge, he opted to keep her company instead. He rubbed her back, massaged her shoulders, and held her close. 

At some point, he left to take a shower. 

Liv checks her phone; almost an hour has passed since. Her stomach growls, its hollowness almost nauseating. She figures now might be as good a time as any to grab some grub. 

After checking both of the boys one last time, she leaves the room quietly, easing the door shut behind her with a soft click.

Satoru is waiting just outside, leaning back against the wall. His hair is slightly damp, pushed back, and messier than usual, his bandages peaking from his pants’ pocket. There’s a subtle looseness to him at this hour; shoulders dropped, hands in the pockets of his long coat, blue eyes calm and watching.

“You look awful,” he says under his breath.

“Shut up,” Liv scoffs, ruffling his white locks. “You should’ve dried your hair. It’s freezing outside.”

He says nothing, merely taking her hand into his as they fall into step, moving down the hallway. The floor creaks faintly under their weight, and the food vending machine at the far end hums in quiet rebellion. Everything feels subdued in the pale corridor light.

She pauses at the vending machine, scanning the offerings. Satoru leans into her shoulder, nose brushing her hairline. She notes he’s become quite clingy.

“So, Kirara and Kinji?” Liv asks casually, chatting him up. “Thoughts?”

Satoru hums, circling his arms around her waist. So much for distraction, she sighs inwardly.

“It’s a new thing,” he says, kissing her neck. 

There’s no judgment in his tone.

“You didn’t know?” she asks, pressing a button on the hot oden can.

“I can’t read minds, darling,” he answers as the can rolls down in the bottom container. “Besides, maybe it’s just a spur-of-the-moment thing, or it might be something more. Who knows.”

Liv studies him quietly before bending down to get the can. “You’re surprisingly unbothered.”

He lifts a brow, putting some distance between them while enjoying the view of his wife’s buttocks. “Why would I be?”

“I’m not saying you should be,” she clarifies, straightening her spine before turning to him. “A lot of people would react differently.”

Satoru shrugs. “I’m the last person to judge.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and for a moment, Liv feels it -

Jealousy. 

They resume their walk, with Liv popping the can open. She fishes out a toothpick before stabbing a slice of daikon. They stop at the stairwell. She rests a hand on the rail, quiet for a moment.

“Do you miss him?” Liv asks, staring at the oden can.

Satoru is startled for a moment, halting his step. She is standing a step below him. His silence unnerves her, but she doesn’t pressure him.

A beat passes before he answers weakly, “Every day.”

They linger in the quiet until the radiator clicks behind them.

Then Liv breathes out slowly, “And us?”

Satoru tilts his head before turning around. His brows scrunch in confusion while his mouth purses as if he’s about to say ‘oh’. However, he remains silent.

She smiles faintly before asking, “What do we feel?”

Satoru’s mouth opens, half a smile forming, but her phone vibrates against her coat before he can answer.

She glances at the screen.

Tove.

She answers. “Drakon.”

Tove’s voice is crisp. “He’s landed.”

Liv straightens, expression tightening just slightly. “When?”

“About ten minutes ago. He’ll be here within the hour. No incident yet, but I’ve moved the outer perimeter team to standby.”

“Understood,” Liv says. “I'll be there soon.”

She ends the call, pocketing her phone. The drinks the soup in several gulps before throwing it into the nearest trash can. Satoru watches her, the question in his eyes unspoken.

“Something wrong?” he asks when she doesn’t elaborate. 

She shakes her head, mustering a confident smile. “Nothing of consequence. We’re just hosting a guest for the next few days.”

Satoru studies her. He’s reading more than she’s letting on. 

“Who?” he asks, adjusting the edge of his coat.

“Tatsuo Shuuin,” she answers, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Satoru frowns slightly. “Is he the one with the goatee or the one with the cane?”

Liv hums. “The cane.”

There’s no real emotion in her voice, but he catches the way her fists clench at her sides.

Satoru shifts his weight, sliding his hands deeper into his coat pockets.

“I can’t keep track of your extended relatives,” he admits. “Most of them blur together -  manipulative, dishonest, aloof.”

Liv’s mouth lifts faintly at that. “That’s not inaccurate.”

“And this Tatsuo?” he presses. “Does he fit that description?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, she lowers her gaze, and for a long moment, says nothing at all. He’s equally respected and feared for a reason.

Far down the hall, a pipe lets out a slow metallic groan.

“Normally, I’d say no,” she admits at last, “but I’m not sure this time around.”

He softens his voice.

“You want me there?”

Liv hesitates.

“I don’t want to make this your problem,” she says. “You already have your hands full. The boys,” she glances toward the stairwell. “They’re still recovering. You should be with them.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, he steps in front of her and gently lifts her chin. She looks up, a question already forming, but he cuts her off before she can ask.

“You’re not making it my problem,” he says simply.

“Satoru - ”

“I’m coming with you.”

Her shoulders shift, less like tension and more like relief reluctantly surfacing.

Still, she protests. “You don’t have to - ”

“I know,” he says, gently. “But I am here for you, regardless.”

She presses her lips.

He leans in, nudging her nose with his. “Do you need me?”

The words catch her off guard. She searches his face. He waits, giving her the space to answer.

She nods.

He then reaches up and smooths his hand down her arm, stopping at her wrist.

“A Gojo and a Shuuin,” he murmurs, “against the world. Remember?”

Liv exhales, nearly a laugh, nearly a sigh. She nods a few times, and he squeezes her hand once.

They turn toward the stairwell together, steps falling into rhythm. Behind them, the hallway returns to silence, the soft electric buzz, the hum of an old school that never truly sleeps.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016 / 05:04 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The road coils through the mountains like a scar - narrow, half-forgotten, its edges crusted in frost. Below, the valleys still sleep, rice fields frozen over and cedar groves cloaked in breathless mist. 

At the summit, the Shuuin Manor rests atop a cold ridge, its silhouette carved against the pale sky. Long roofs sag under the weight of winter.

Liv walks ahead, boots whispering over the ice-glazed gravel path. She’s silent. Satoru follows without question, hands buried in his coat pockets, his expression unreadable as his eyes are covered by bandages once more.

They reach the main entrance just as Tove jumps off the roof, landing squarely on her feet. She wears a simple black outfit, breath steaming in the cold. A slim blade glints at her hip, her tablet tucked under one arm.

“Herre Gojo,” she says, genuinely surprised before offering a bow. “Welcome back.”

Satoru merely nods in return. “Tove.”

“Status report,” Liv cuts in curtly.

“Rune is on route with herre Tatsuo,” Tove says, voice clipped. “Several spies are following them on two-wheelers.”

Liv nods once.

“He also asked if we were in the mood for sweets,” Tove adds. “He brought some lokum.”

“Yum,” Satoru smiles.

Liv swallows a retort, motioning for Tove to continue.

“The talismans are activated around the premises,” the spymaster adds. “The anchors are positions in four general directions. Spies will guard every critical point.”

She exhales. “Good work. All of you.”

“Do we meet him here?” Tove asks.

“No,” Liv says. “Main hall. Let’s keep it traditional.”

Satoru’s gaze flicks toward the staircase. “How close are they?”

Tove checks her tablet. “Thirty seconds.”

“Best get to it, then,” Liv says, waving for them all to follow her.

They pass through the outer gate into the manor’s main corridor. The hall is quiet, long, and lacquered, and the paper doors are closed along both sides. The floorboards groan faintly beneath their feet, old wood long since worn smooth. On the walls, dim lanterns flicker, their light golden but distant.

Footsteps echo in rhythm.

Satoru follows at a slight remove, his coat brushing the wooden frame, hands still tucked into his pockets. Tove takes the rear, her presence sharp and steady, a shadow just slightly misaligned.

As they pass, doors shift faintly on their hinges enough for eyes to glimpse through slits. Surveillance is subtle, but constant. Liv’s spies move like echoes, watching from behind paper and screen, some perched above the transoms, some stationed on the rooftop. No words are exchanged. Every watchful gaze is accounted for.

They cross through the inner threshold and into the garden courtyard.

It’s frost-hushed, the stepping stones half-covered in snow. Black pine trees bend inward slightly, touched with white. The gravel paths have been swept but not salted, clean enough for passage.

Liv doesn’t slow. Her boots crunch softly across the stones.

Beyond the courtyard, the main hall waits. Its roof stretches like a crow’s wing above them, still shadowed by the hill. The wooden doors have been opened wide. Lanterns burn low inside.

They enter.

The tatami smells faintly of cedar and camellia oil. Incense smolders at the far end, just beneath the ancestral shelf where polished wood frames lacquered tablets, each etched with the names of the dead. Above them hangs a simple scroll: the Shuuin sigil, faded but intact.

Liv walks to the head of the hall. She kneels and sits formally on the raised cushion closest to the tribute. Satoru doesn’t sit. He lingers a step behind her, off to the left, arms loosely crossed. 

Tove remains by the entrance, eyes half-lidded, one hand resting casually over the knife at her side. She doesn’t move, but she’s already tracked each of the guests’ vitals.

Across the hall, concealed within the panels and ceiling beams, Liv’s guards hold their positions.

“They’ve parked at the bottom,” Tove offers over her shoulder before smiling. “You got this, mistress.”

Liv nods, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She glances at her husband, half-expecting him to pick his nails or something. Instead, his obscured gaze is focused on her.

He flashes a toothy smile at her, and she can’t help but reciprocate.

Then his smile falters. His gaze drifts to the entrance. Liv’s does too.

Through the mist, they see him.

Chapter 27: What's Worth Saving Part VI

December 18th, 2009. / 14:02 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Snow drifts silently through the open courtyard, settling over the branches of bare trees and vanishing into the folds of the shrine’s tiled eaves. The cold air bites, but no one flinches.

Inside the main pavilion, the Shuuin clan gathers, rows of black-robed figures seated in silence, their heads bowed before the flame-lit altar. Incense coils upwards in slow, deliberate threads. Mourning prayers drift like smoke - spoken, but empty, hollow of grief.

At the head of the hall stands Liv.

Twenty. Still. Straight-backed. Cloaked in formal indigo robes, the Shuuin crest sewn in faded gold across her shoulders. Her hands rest lightly in front of her, fingers laced. Her face is unreadable. Her eyes, sharp.

Both her parents are dead.

The room watches her with the patience of circling vultures. Some offer polite smiles. Others whisper behind fans; none offer warmth.

None - except one.

Footsteps sound behind her.

“Mistress, ” Tatsuo says, voice calm as always.

She turns slowly.

Tatsuo wears black, but there’s no grief in him, only poise. His sleeves hang neatly. His silver-streaked hair is tied back. The faintest dusting of ash still clings to his collar. He bows, not too low, not too long. Just enough to satisfy protocol.

“On behalf of the elders,” he says, “I offer my congratulations. May your rule be long and your judgment clear.”

Liv inclines her head. “Your presence honors this hall.”

The audience shifts, their murmurs soft and appeased.

Side by side, the two face the fire basin, pretending to pray. But behind the formal masks, the true conversation begins.

You shouldn’t have come back.

His voice slides into her mind with practiced ease, neither harsh nor warm.

I didn’t come back, she answers. I stepped forward.

You were safe in exile.

She frowns. Safety isn’t the same as living.

A crackle of fire interrupts the silence. Liv breathes in the scent of sandalwood and smoke.

They already resent your rise to power, Tatsuo warns, silently referring to Akame Shuuin.

Let them, she replies. I’ll outlast them.

For a moment, he says nothing. She feels him watching her through the smoke. Not with scorn. Not even disappointment.

Grief.

You could’ve built something else - somewhere else, she hears him chide softly. You had a name beyond this place.

A sad smile forms on her lips. And that name still leads here.

He takes a deep breath. You think they’ll ever follow you?

She needn’t look around to know who favors her and who doesn’t. Even her brother, staunch and picture of poise, is not thrilled to see her take up his post, his birthright, as he likes to believe. I don’t need them to follow, she says. I only need them to kneel.

A breath catches in Tatsuo’s chest.

You sound like her.

That, more than anything, unsettles her.

But Liv doesn’t flinch.

You taught me not to run, she says. So I didn’t.

Tatsuo exhales through his nose.

You’re playing a long game.

She tilts her head slightly, looking at him. You showed me how.

He doesn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth shifts, just slightly.

Another name is called. A cousin moves forward to recite his lines. Liv and Tatsuo step aside to allow him space before the altar.

The fire crackles louder now. The cold pushes in through the open hall.

And the ceremony goes on.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016 / 05:06 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Through the mist, they see him.

Tatsuo Shuuin emerges from the shadows like something conjured. The lantern light barely catches the outline of his tall figure, framed by the frost-heavy boughs of the garden trees. He moves slowly, deliberately, cane tapping once against the stone before continuing forward. His pace is not hindered, but measured. The snow crunches beneath his polished shoes.

He does not speak as he enters the threshold. Instead, he pauses beneath the eaves, eyes scanning the hall with quiet calculation. He is dressed in a high-collared black coat lined with sable fur, the hem brushing just above his ankles. His fingers are bare despite the cold, the skin unblemished save for the pale callus along his index. A simple brown hat covers his head of silver-streaked hair.

Liv’s gaze hardens. Tatsuo, like her, bears the Inner Eye - any stray thought could betray her. All of her play-pretend and careful maneuvering will fail if he glimpses inside her head.

He removes his hat.

“Permission to enter?” he asks, voice quiet, low.

It’s formal and unnecessary, but Liv hears the intention beneath it.

“Granted,” she replies.

Tatsuo steps inside, crossing over into the main hall. The wooden floor creaks once beneath his weight before settling again. His gaze lifts to the lacquered beams, the ancestral shelf, the scroll bearing the sigil of their house. The faint trace of incense curls above the small altar.

He bows. Not deeply; only enough to signal reverence, not submission.

Liv inclines her head in turn. 

“I greet you, mistress,” he says softly. “You look well.”

She smiles in return, however forced. “So do you.”

He crosses the room slowly, cane tapping once again on the polished floor, before lowering himself onto the cushion opposite Liv’s place by the altar. His movements are practiced. His body speaks the language of discipline, an old dialect that Liv remembers from their youth: speak little, see everything.

Satoru remains a respectful distance behind her. Tove lingers near the back wall.

For a long moment, no one speaks.

Then Tatsuo says, almost gently,  “Do not fret, child. I am not here to sabotage your business.”

Liv’s smile fades into something thinner, more brittle. Her hands rest in her lap, fingers loosely interlaced, as if to stop them from curling into fists.

“I’m not afraid,” she answers.

Tatsuo hums softly. The weight of years hangs in the silence between them, a solemn reminder that they are not strangers.

“The Shuuin regard the disbandment as betrayal,” he says, gaze fixed on the altar.

Liv doesn’t look away. “They’ll live.”

He glances at her. “You say it with conviction.”

She nods once. “That’s what we do - survive against all odds.”

Tatsuo almost smiles. “Indeed.”

The quiet carries a kind of reverence. Behind Liv, Satoru shifts his weight. His presence is steady, unobtrusive.

The older man’s voice lowers. “I came for a reckoning.”

Liv tilts her head. “Reckoning?”

“Once, I judged your return to the Shuuin as a folly,” he says, lowering his gaze, “but I was wrong.”

Something in her chest loosens at that. Meanwhile, Satoru frowns at the man’s particular phrasing.

Tatsuo folds his hands over the cane’s silver handle. “To think, I’d see you at the forefront of such a change.”

“It’s not that unexpected,” Liv scoffs. 

“And yet,” he adds, with the faintest upward tilt of his mouth, “here you are, doing exactly that. I wonder, if fate had been kinder, what would your life look like today?”

She can’t answer that. Not without crying.

He turns his eyes to the scroll above the altar, the faded Shuuin sigil, still intact. 

“I won’t stay long,” he says. “My ship departs tomorrow morning. Busan, then Lisbon.”

Liv raises an eyebrow. “Lisbon?”

“I’ve agreed to oversee the restoration of the Tecedeira,” he says. “You should visit it sometime.”

She tilts her head. “Tecedeira is under the stewardship of the Fontes.”

“It was,” he says with a warm smile. “The last Fontes steward failed in keeping the place sealed and free of curse infestation. He’s dead, and I was asked to step up.”

Tatsuo knows what’s going through her head, so he continues, “It is nothing alarming, mistress.”

Liv frowns. “Do not lie to me, old man. Why didn’t I know this?”

The old man glances at Satoru, keeping his face non-expressive. The implication is clear - her mind was elsewhere. Liv is almost offended, but she swallows the retort brewing in her throat.

“Leave this to me,” he says firmly. 

Her pride almost clouds her judgment. She nods stiffly, looking to the side. 

“One more thing,” he adds, more gently than before, “winter seldom brings warm winds.”

A beat. She nods again.

“My contacts are at your disposal, always,” Tatsuo says. “Use them if need be.”

The words fall between them like ash.

Then, slowly, he stands.

Satoru steps slightly forward, sensing the shift.

Tatsuo doesn’t look at him. He looks only at Liv.

He steps forward - closer than he’s stood all morning - and, to her quiet surprise, lifts a hand and cups her cheek.

Her breath catches.

Then, with a final bow, he turns and walks back into the cold.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016 / 06:48 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

The hum of the detention ward thrums like a heartbeat in the walls, low and constant, warding seals pulsing faintly in the dark. Nova sits on the edge of her cot, legs crossed, eyes fixed on the thin band of frost crawling along the glass. She doesn’t look up when the door slides open.

Mathias enters. His coat is dusted with snow. The air seems to bend around him as though the room itself recognizes his presence.

On instinct, she puts some distance between them, even if moving further down the length of her cot. It doesn’t escape his notice, however, and he resists the urge to frown and pout in disappointment. 

Taking a deep breath, he sits on the floor next to her, giving her the space she wants. They sit in silence for a while, neither speaking up.

“Good news,” he says without preamble. “We’re leaving Hokkaido.”

Nova finally shifts her gaze, narrowing her eyes. She pauses for a moment, letting it sink in.

There’s the smallest pause before he continues, “Liv disbanded the Shuuin, so we need to move to a safer place.”

She doesn’t move, but a spark lights in the back of her mind -

Opportunity. 

She locks it down instantly. A single-track thought, a decoy for the ever-perceptive Inner Eye: breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Monotone. Shallow. Empty.

Her father’s eyes linger on her, but he says nothing.

“When?” she asks, her tone even.

“In a few hours,” he answers. 

Her lips curve, just barely, not enough to betray anything. “Then I suppose I should rest.”

Mathias studies her in silence. For a moment, she thinks he will probe deeper, that he’ll pierce through her carefully woven veil. But instead, his posture softens.

She leans back against the cot, closing her eyes. 

“Sing to me,” she murmurs. 

A breath leaves him, long and low. Not quite a sigh.

Then, softly, he begins.

The old Norse rolls off his tongue with the weight of earth, syllables carried like runes carved into stone. The song is spare, austere, yet there’s reverence woven into every phrase. He sings of riders cloaked in stormlight, of shields bright as winter suns, of women who choose the slain and carry them home.

Nova listens, eyes closed, her breathing falling into rhythm with his voice. The loop in her head - breathe in, breathe out - merges with the cadence of the lullaby, so seamless it almost feels like truth.

Her father’s song fills the cold chamber, steady and unbroken, until her body grows heavy and her thoughts blur.

She drifts, lulled not by comfort, but by inevitability.

When at last she slips into sleep, Mathias lowers his voice to a final verse. His gaze lingers on her a while, unreadable. Then he puts his gloves back on, turns, and leaves her to her dreams.

The corridor is still when Mathias steps out. The reinforced door seals shut behind him with a muted hiss, the final notes of his song still echoing faintly in his ears. He pauses, glancing once through the narrow glass slit, at the slight rise and fall of his daughter’s chest. 

Asleep or so she appears.

He exhales through his nose, the breath misting in the cold. Then he turns.

His boots sound against the concrete in even strides, his shadow stretched long by the corridor’s pale strip lights.

Every detail of the transfer cycles through his head, orderly, sharp, without pause.

Their final destination is North America, with several stops along the way. Getting off the island is crucial. With the Shuuin disbanded, it’s only a matter of time before the HQ notes the new turn of events and issues a manhunt on their kin. 

Nova must be as far away from Tengen, the higher ups and Satoru Gojo.

The convoy will need three vehicles. One decoy, two armed. The girl must not know which she rides in until the very last moment. If word leaks, even a whisper, they will descend like carrion.

The main road is too exposed. The forest trails in Kitahiyama are narrow but cover enough ground to throw off surveillance. He’ll need to switch paths twice before they reach the coast.

Ainu men are capable, but capable is never enough. Mathias intends to personally charge the forward flank through the snow. The Ainu will handle the perimeter sweep once they’re closer to the port.

Above all, the fewer who know, the better. The paperwork is already falsified; on record, Nova remains in Hokkaido. The ship’s name is absent from the manifests. Effectively, nothing changes.

Still, Mathias knows better than to rely on the illusion of control.

He stops at the end of the corridor, resting one gloved hand against the cold metal of the rail. Below him, the other cells sit in silence. His reflection stares back at him in the pane of glass: lined eyes, steady mouth.

He straightens, adjusting his coat. His voice had soothed her into sleep, but what comes next cannot be soothed. It can only be endured.

Mathias begins moving again, each step firm, deliberate.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016 / 07:12 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

The smell of rice and miso lingers in the air. The kitchen is alive with quiet clatter, porcelain against wood, ladles tapping pots, soft chatter among Liv’s spies as they portion dishes. Steam clouds the frosted windows, blurring the view of the winter garden outside.

Liv stands near the stove, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, stirring broth with practiced efficiency. A faint sheen of steam clings to her hair. She gives curt instructions without raising her voice, and her spies obey, moving in quick, silent rhythm. For a moment, she almost looks domestic. 

Almost.

Meanwhile, in the Manor’s living room, the atmosphere is markedly different.

Tatsuo sits seiza at the low table, posture unbent despite his age, his cane resting across his knees. Satoru lounges opposite him, cross-legged, his bandages pushed up to his forehead so both eyes are visible. A faint smile plays on his lips, but his fingers drum a quiet, uneven rhythm against his thigh.

The silence stretches, filled only by the faint hum of conversation from the kitchen.

Finally, Satoru breaks it. 

“So,” he says, tilting his head, “do all Shuuin skip on a good night’s sleep, or is it just you and Liv competing to see who can act the most dignified before breakfast?”

Tatsuo’s mouth curves slightly. “It is a habit, young man, which kept us alive.”

“Wouldn’t know, honestly,” Satoru answers, feigning indifference. “I can spare a few hours of rest, regardless of danger.”

Tatsuo studies him with those sharp, unblinking eyes. There’s no malice, no judgment - just observation, as though Satoru is a page in a book he’s already read once before.

“Then that purplish hue under your eyes,” Tatsuo says coyly, “is just a trick of an old man’s eye.”

Satoru leans back, shoulders loose, but his pulse ticks a little faster. 

“Don’t mind me, Gojo-sama,” the old man waves off-handedly. “I’m merely indulging in a witty conversation.”

And yet, Satoru knows this is not just banter. His impression of Tatsuo is still uncertain - he can’t tell if the old man is threatened by Satoru’s presence or wary of his involvement with the Shuuin.

Satoru has never desired someone else’s ability, but he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t envy the Inner Eye’s abilities. A quick dip into someone’s skull and he’d have all the answers he needed.

He leans back against the tatami, one long arm stretched over the back of his cushion. His pale eyes, uncovered, are fixed on Tatsuo with uncharacteristic sharpness. 

“Come on, old man. You didn’t drag yourself through the snow just for tea and small talk. What’s the real game?”

Tatsuo’s face doesn’t so much as twitch. 

His hands fold over his cane, voice calm, “My business here is what I’ve said. No hidden agendas today, Gojo-sama.”

Satoru hums, unconvinced, but says nothing. They don’t speak for a while, but numerous questions swirl inside Satoru’s head, and they don’t go unnoticed by the Shuuin elder. 

Tatsuo’s tone is deceptively casual as he asks, “Did my mistress ever tell you about her time in exile?”

The question lands like a blade.

Satoru blinks. “Exile?”

Tatsuo frowns. 

“I guess you didn’t know after all,” he says, studying the younger man carefully, then shakes his head once. “She was barely eight when her mother exiled her.”

For once, Satoru looks rattled. His usual smirk falters into something sharper, thinner. 

“Her mother threw her out to the streets?” his voice spikes with disbelief, then lowers, edged with heat. 

Tatsuo exhales through his nose, gaze drifting to the smoke curling from the hearth. “It was a difficult period in our history, and to be frank, there are many inconsistencies around it. I can’t say what triggered the previous mistress to act in such radical fashion.” 

“Radical?” Satoru almost seethes. “That’s just a fancy word for cruel. Sounds like the same garbage the Great Families pull.”

His hands curl into fists on his knees before he forces them open again. 

“Seven years old,” he mutters, as though tasting the words. “She could’ve died - ”

“Yes,” the old Shuuin nods, a strange expression flashing over his weathered features. “Although we were forbidden from helping the child then, I managed to maneuver certain opportunities in her favor. Luckily, it paid off, and she survived. She even tracked down her father at some point. I thought she'd never return, and honestly, there's nothing I'd wished more for her. However, you already know what happened instead.”

Silence follows his statement as Satoru lets the revelation sink in. He glances at the kitchen, noticing the outlines of Liv’s cursed energy. She, along with several spies, walks out with trays of covered dishes and bowls.

Tatsuo watches him quietly, then says softly, “Her greatest fear is abandonment, especially by those who claim loyalty to her.”

The room is silent but for the hearth’s steady crackle. Satoru doesn’t reply.

The paper door slides open. Liv steps inside, sleeves rolled, the faint sheen of steam still clinging to her hair. She sets the tray down at the low table, movements precise, practiced. The scents of rice, grilled salmon, and miso slip into the room, easing the heavy quiet that had lingered.

Neither man speaks.

She kneels gracefully beside Satoru, smoothing her robe before sitting. The moment she settles, something shifts in him; his restless rhythm stills, his shoulders loosen, his mouth softens into the faintest of smiles. 

The older man inclines his head, the corner of his mouth just barely shifting.

They eat in quiet, exchanging a few pleasantries here and there. Tatsuo shares his anecdotes, cheekily poking fun at the other Shuuin elders - much to Liv and Satoru’s amusement. In return, Liv recalls a few memories from her childhood, most of them involving Satoru. And Satoru, in return, comments on those same moments from their shared history with his usual flamboyant flair. 

For a short while, the Manor feels lively.

Then, Tatsuo sets down his bowl, the faint click of porcelain on wood breaking the silence. His eyes remain fixed on Liv.

“Before I go about my business, one question,” he says. "If I may, mistress."

Liv nods, setting down her chopsticks. “Ask away.”

The old man offers a curt bow. “What do you know of the Shuuin ancestry, now that you have consumed the Great Mother?”

Liv meets his stare without flinching. She doesn’t answer right away. The truth burns at the edges of her mind. A prickle runs down her spine.

A faint scent of copper and iron permeates the air, carrying a sense of dread and eeriness. Liv looks to the side.

And there Rei stands.

The Great Mother, pale and perfect, draped in cotton that whispers like smoke. Her form is faint, translucent, yet her presence is suffocatingly real. She smiles, coy and cruel, the same smile that once commanded hundreds to kneel and die at her whim.

Liv’s jaw tightens. She blinks, and Rei is gone.

Tatsuo hasn’t noticed. Neither has Satoru.

The hearth crackles. The cold presses against the paper screens. Liv straightens, reclaiming her voice.

“The old Shuuin were like a sect, or a cult, led by a master,” her hand rests lightly on the table, steady. “They were as free as they could be, satiating their curiosity at their own leisure. The master’s role was that of a guardian and adviser to the rest.”

Satoru leans back, watching her closely, something unreadable in his eyes. He doesn’t interrupt.

Tatsuo is quiet for a while.

Then he says, realizing, “You’re bringing back the old Shuuin.”

Liv shakes her head. “Not quite. The old Shuuin had their hands bloodied long before the Great Mother assumed leadership. Now, we move on from the shackles of the past and forge a new path for ourselves.”

Tatsuo folds his hands over his cane, lips pressed thin. He does not agree, not entirely, but he doesn’t dare disagree with her. 

Something in her tone leaves little to argue with.

The silence stretches. Satoru exhales softly, tipping his head toward her with the faintest smile. Liv meets his gaze, and though her face is composed, her eyes gleam with fire.

Tatsuo’s question lingers, quiet but heavy, “What does Mathias say about this?”

Liv folds her hands in her lap. 

She answers with careful precision, “He’s been absolved of his duties. He’s at the detention center with Nova.”

At that, Satoru perks up, his bandages slipping slightly as he tilts his head, “Nova? Is that his daughter?”

Liv hesitates. The truth isn’t simple, nor safe to share. Tatsuo holds her gaze, slightly shaking his head. However, as she glances back at her husband, a sense of ease fills her heart, and she finds the courage to confide in him.

“She was born with a strong but unstable technique,” Liv admits quietly. “She’s been kept in Hokkaido for that reason, assisted by our friends among Ainu sorcerers.”

Satoru frowns, the humor draining from his voice. “Unstable how?”

Liv shakes her head, sharp and unyielding, “That’s not important. What is important is her safety. As you said yourself, it is only a matter of time before the HQ finds out about the Shuuin. The rest of us will manage, but Nova will be captured and possibly executed.”

The weight of her words settles. The faint crackle of the hearth seems louder in the pause that follows.

Satoru leans back, arms folding loosely over his chest, though his jaw is tight. “So she’s about to have a target painted on her back.”

Liv nods once. “Yes.”

Tatsuo studies her, eyes narrowing in thought, “Nova is being moved, I presume?”

Liv’s gaze flicks toward him, steady, “Yes, although I’m unaware of their final destination. Mathias will inform me if he deems it wise. In any case, I wish them good luck.”

The fire pops again, sending a spark into the air. Nova’s name lingers in the silence, like a storm waiting beyond the horizon.

When the last bowls are cleared, conversation turns practical. Tatsuo sets his cane upright against the table, resting both hands atop the silver handle.

“My ship departs tomorrow, but I have business in Minato today,” he says. “There are matters that require my attention before I leave the country.”

Liv nods, thoughtful. “Rune will accompany you. You should have some protection in the city.”

“I appreciate it,” Tatsuo replies with a faint incline of his head.

She turns to Satoru, who’s been lazily tracing the rim of his teacup. “And you? Do you have work today?”

His mouth twists. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Her hand lifts, brushing lightly against his cheek before pressing a soft kiss there. “I’ll be home when you return.”

That draws a smile out of him, unguarded and boyish, though it fades as he mutters, “You sure you don’t want me here instead? Say the word and I’ll ditch it all. You know that.”

Liv shakes her head, smiling faintly, “Check on the boys and make sure those old farts don’t know what’s going on up this hill. Buy me as much time as you can.”

He exhales, a put-upon sigh, but the reluctance in his face makes it clear he’d rather stay. “As you wish, darling.”

Satoru rises first, brushing stray rice grains from his sleeve. He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to Liv’s temple. 

“Don’t vanish before I get back,” he says softly, nuzzling into her cheek. “I’ll swing by and see the old man off.”

Tatsuo inclines his head at that, unfazed by Satoru’s casual tone. “Your company is welcome, young Gojo.”

Satoru flashes his familiar, irreverent grin, though his eyes linger on Liv a moment longer. Then, with a lazy wave, he slips out into the hall, his footsteps fading toward the outer wing while he fastens his bandages.

The silence he leaves behind is unusually soft.

Tatsuo studies Liv, the faintest curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You look like a woman in love.”

Liv’s lips tighten. 

She shakes her head once, dismissive. “We’re simply enjoying each other’s company.”

His brow lifts, just slightly. 

“And enjoying it quite thoroughly, it seems. Tell me,” his tone dips lighter, teasing, “is a child in the cards for the two of you?”

Liv’s lips part as if to rebuff him, but the humor dies in her throat. Her expression darkens. Whatever warmth had lingered drains, leaving her face grim and still.

“I don’t believe I can conceive,” she admits, her voice flat but quiet. “Vala rarely bore children, for a good reason. We are cursed creatures, after all.” 

He reaches across the low table, setting his weathered hand over hers. His palm is warm, steady. 

"I'm sorry, mistress," he says softly. "Truly."

She merely smiles sadly in response.

Chapter 28: What's Worth Saving Part VII

December 8th, 2016. / 09:00 / Ormr Detention Center, Hokkaido, Japan

 

The detention center hums like a caged beast. Wards flicker faintly on the walls, pulsing with a rhythm that no one but sorcerers can feel. The air is sharp with the sting of frost and iron.

Nova stands in the middle of her narrow cell, boots laced, coat buttoned high around her throat. Her father’s voice carries evenly, measured, as he briefs her one last time.

“You’ll ride in the second vehicle. There will be three total: two escorts and one decoy. You’ll stay seated and say nothing. Do not look out the windows.”

She nods, eyes forward, though her hands clench at her sides.

Mathias steps closer, pulling his gloves tighter. “We leave by the north gate, switch paths twice through Kitahiyama before reaching the coast. Your name is not on the manifests. On records, you remain here. Understand?”

“Yes,” her voice is flat, automatic.

His gaze lingers, piercing. He doesn’t need words to remind her that he’ll know if she lies. She steadies her thoughts, the way he taught her - one track, simple, neutral: in, out, in, out.

He studies her for a beat longer, then nods once.

“Open the shutter,” Mathias calls out, then turns to the comm staff. “Send a word to the HQ. Once we’re out, shut this place down.”

The staff nods and gets to business, typing at their gadgets and computers. Meanwhile, the Ainu escorts wait beyond the reinforced door. Snow gathers in drifts along the corridor, brought in from boots and coats. Somewhere above, a ward thrums louder, a reminder of the time pressing in.

Mathias turns to leave, but Nova doesn’t move. He halts his step a second later, then looks over his shoulder.

Her pulse hammers.

“Nova? You coming?”

She swallows the lump in her throat. Tears prickle at her eyes, but she swallows them too. 

“Pappa - “

I’m sorry.

The thought sears through her head, fierce, undeniable. The words, however, cannot cross her lips.

Mathias turns sharply, his face contorted in shock and disbelief. “Nova, no - “

She closes her eyes. Breath stills in her chest.

And the world stops.

The hum of the wards fades into silence. Snowflakes caught mid-fall hang frozen in the air, each crystalline edge glinting like shards of glass. The guards outside the door stiffen, then remain still, locked in the moment. Her father, hand outstretched to her, eyes widened, is perfectly locked in time.

Her eyes snap open, glowing faintly at the edges, her cursed technique thrumming hot in her veins. She can feel every second she’s stolen.

A smile flickers across her lips; giddy, horrified, both. But even as the triumph swells, the silence wavers. Snow vibrates, frozen voices stretch like broken strings.

She moves past her father, brushing by his sleeve, then steps into the corridor, boots echoing unnaturally loud in the frozen silence. The power floods her chest, heavier with each step.

Overwhelmed by the success of her escape, Nova fails to notice the tremors and crackles in the corners of the vast compound. She walks past the points where her technique fails to hold.

Instead, her eyes are glued to the vehicle they were supposed to leave in. Chuckling, she makes tentative steps toward the rover, where an Ainu remains stiff mid-climb into the driver’s seat. 

“So cool,” she mutters as she passes him by, making her way to the large gate ahead. 

Blinding light peeks through the shutter door. Due to her interruption, they never opened fully, and only a small gap remains.

Small for most men, but just enough for her to squeeze through.

Crouching, she lowers her head and then her torso, leveling with the ground. She reaches forward and under the shutters, the resulting position being uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she pushes through the discomfort and into the freezing wilderness outside, where snow and wind reign supreme.

For a moment, she tastes it on her tongue and feels it in her bones. Years spent in a small cell seem so far away as she stands in the vastness outside her prison. A sob escapes her throat as she takes it all in, and tears trickle down her cheeks.

“Finally,” she whimpers, hugging herself.

But as she savors the first moments of freedom, Nova once again forgets herself. The corners where time crackled now split, and where it stuttered, it breaks. 

Her breath catches, sharp. She feels the tears in the spacetime, contorting and bending. The silence wavers and snowflakes tremble in midair.

Her pulse spikes.

No, no, no. 

She clamps her hands over her ears, as if she could shut out the roar building inside her skull. The power is spilling loose, uncontrollable.

A crack runs through the frozen moment. Then another.

“NO!”

She turns around, hoping to mend it, but it is too late.

The world splinters.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016. / 10:24 / Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High School, Tokyo, Japan

 

Satoru leans against the doorway, arms folded loosely, bandages in place. 

Kirara sits on a stool beside the bed, fussing with a damp cloth as he presses it lightly to Kinji’s temple. He looks sharper than yesterday, alert, but the way his shoulders tense betrays the strain. His gaze barely strays from Kinji.

Kinji himself looks better than he should; bruises fading, ribs bound, but upright, chewing a rice ball like it personally wronged him. His jaw is tight, eyes burning.

“You’re glaring holes in the floor, kid,” Satoru drawls, finally breaking the quiet. 

Kinji ignores the jab. 

His voice is low, edged with fury, “We were set up. The intel was shit. Someone wanted us there.”

Kirara frowns, murmuring, “Kin-chan - ”

But Kinji presses on, eyes locked on Satoru, “Don’t act like you don’t feel it too. We’re the expendables.”

Satoru sighs, long and theatrical, like Kinji had just complained about cafeteria food. He pushes off the frame and crouches by the bed, pushing up bandages, his pale eyes glinting sharply behind the lazy grin.

“Listen, tough guy,” he says evenly, “thinking about it won’t heal your ribs. You want payback? Train until no one can play you like that again. Otherwise, you’re just whining.”

Kinji bristles, his hand curling into a fist, but the words sink in all the same.

Satoru straightens, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. “Eat, rest, train, repeat. Leave the conspiracy theories to the old farts with too much time on their hands.”

Kirara shoots him a sideways look, half annoyed, half relieved.

Before Kinji can snap back, the paper door slides open.

“Gojo,” a gravelly voice cuts in.

Masamichi stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His face is its usual unreadable mask, but the weight in his tone is unmistakable. 

“A word,” he says. “Privately.”

Satoru tilts his head, flashing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And here I thought you just wanted to bask in my bedside manner.”

Masamichi doesn’t react. His eyes flick once to Kinji and Kirara, then back.

The room stiffens with silence.

Satoru hums, the grin softening, though his posture stays loose. He secures his bandages before turning on his heel. 

He waves lazily over his shoulder. “Don’t go picking fights while I’m gone.”

And with that, he slips out into the hall, hands shoved in his pockets, stride careless as ever.

The corridor opens onto the temple grounds, sunlight spilling across the polished stones, dust motes drifting lazily in the air. Snow from the morning still clings to the eaves, melting slowly in the weak winter sun. Satoru walks beside Masamichi, hands buried in his pockets, the faint creak of boots on stone echoing softly.

“So,” Satoru drawls. “What’s up, Principal? Am I in trouble again?”

Masamichi sighs. “No, you’re not. I merely wanted to talk to you.”

“And this couldn’t wait, why?” the white-haired sorcerer inquires further.

Suddenly, they stop their little stroll, exactly near the temple front, where a certain gloomy kid is being sheltered.

“Once you enroll that cursed boy,” Masamichi begins, voice quiet but carrying weight, “what do you intend to do with him?”

Satoru glances down at the younger sorcerer seated in the courtyard below, restless energy barely contained, eyes scanning the grounds like he’s sizing up a battlefield. 

“Yuta?” Satoru’s grin is easy, teasing. “Honestly? I figure it’d be useful to find a few kids of comparable potential. Even things out. Make him work for it.”

Masamichi doesn’t smile. “And you think he’ll actually try?”

Satoru tilts his head. “If he’s smart, yeah. That’s the point, isn’t it? Bring out the intelligence in him and not waste it.”

The two fall silent, walking past the temple’s stone lanterns, wind stirring the last stubborn snowflakes from the trees. Masamichi stops at the front steps, reaching into his coat with a slow, precise motion. He produces a file, thin but weighty in the hand.

“In that case,” Masamichi says, voice even, “I need a favor.”

Satoru arches a brow, leaning against the stone railing. “Sounds ominous already.”

Masamichi places the file in Satoru’s hands, letting the weight of it settle. “I want you to train him, alongside Yuta.”

Satoru flips it open. The pages are filled with notes, schematics, and diagrams, intricate beyond casual comprehension. Every line hints at careful planning, experimentation, thoughtfulness - artistry beyond most people’s comprehension.

“Yaga?” Satoru mutters, tracing a diagram with a finger. “What is this?”

Masamichi shrugs lightly, expression neutral. “A question for later. For now, take him under your wing.”

Satoru taps the file against his palm, face marred with curiosity and a faint thrill. “Sure, why not?”

Masamichi doesn’t elaborate, only inclining his head slightly. Then, from beneath his coat, he produces two more files, placing them in Satoru’s hands with the same deliberate weight.

“Take a look at these as well,” he says, voice low. 

Satoru flips them open, skimming through the contents. Sparse notes, careful records, their potential marked but not fully revealed. Hints of growth, skill, and latent ability; enough to pique Satoru’s interest, but vague enough that every question raises three more.

He hums softly, tilting his head. “You’re setting up quite the stage, Principal.”

Masamichi doesn’t comment, only turns, giving Satoru a steady look. “You know what to do.”

Satoru nods, the corner of his mouth lifting in that lazy, knowing grin. “Oh, I know exactly what to do.”

The wind rustles the pines, carrying the last of the drifting snow.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016. / 11:45 / Minato, Tokyo, Japan

 

“Tove is going to kill me.”

It has to be the umpteenth time Rune has said that very sentence. For the last half an hour, she’s been running circles all over Minato. One moment, she was indulging in a gross conversation with Tatsuo about Tokyo’s infrastructure and rapid expansion in the last five decades; the next, she was standing alone in a mass of pedestrians with the old man nowhere in sight.

Rune sighs, adjusting the collar of her coat. “You’d think I’d lost a child, not a man with a foot in a grave.”

But Tatsuo isn’t just anyone, and she knows better than to underestimate him. He’s slippery, clever, and far too amused by the idea of giving her the runaround.

Her instincts kick in. Rune starts scanning: shadows on the street, angles of traffic mirrors, the rhythm of pedestrian movement. Her eyes catch a ripple of cloth cutting too quickly through a crowd, just at the edge of an alley. 

She smirks. “Gottcha.”

She cuts after him.

The chase is silent, her movements seamless. Rune vaults a low rail with practiced ease, boots thudding softly against the asphalt. She ducks under a laundry line strung across an alley, using the momentum to scale a metal fire escape. From above, Minato’s streets unfold like a map. Neon signs hum. Steam curls from restaurant vents. People blur below.

Rune leaps rooftop to rooftop, her breath steady, heart thrumming with the familiar thrill. Every sound is a clue; the rattle of a loose pipe, the crunch of snow underfoot, the scuff of a heel brushing pavement. She follows each fragment like breadcrumbs.

At one point, she spots Tatsuo’s coat disappearing around a corner. She grins, slipping into the shadows. 

She drops down a fire ladder, tucks herself against the side of a delivery truck, and watches. Tatsuo’s gait is distinct, even among a sea of moving bodies. Rune blends in perfectly, buying a can of coffee at a vending machine while tracking him in the glass reflection, ducking into a passing tour group when he glances back.

But then he turns again. Faster this time, cutting through a narrow passage that snakes between shuttered storefronts. Rune feels the tension rise. The streets grow quieter, emptier.

She slows, keeping her footsteps ghostlike, hugging the walls. Her pulse hammers in her ears, but her grin remains. 

At the end of the passage, a faint voice carries. Rune presses herself against a wall, listening. Tatsuo. Calm, measured. But he isn’t alone.

She edges forward until the street dead-ends. There, beneath the dim glow of a flickering sign, Tatsuo stands. Opposite him is a tall figure with a presence that prickles Rune’s skin—broad shoulders, dark skin, bald head. His posture is unmistakable, even from behind.

Miguel.

Rune’s eyes widen, her breath catching. She lowers further into the dark, every instinct screaming at her to stay hidden, to watch.

The old man is speaking in hushed tones. Miguel nods once.

Rune’s grip tightens against the wall, her smirk gone.

A few moments pass before Tatsuo turns on his heel. Miguel watches him leave the dead-end street, a sour expression settling on his face. Before he leaves as well, he glances upwards, in Rune’s general direction. She evens her breath and calms her heart, assured he can’t see her from his position. Nonetheless, his lingering gaze unnerves her. Luckily, he averts his attention back to the street ahead, and with hands in his pockets, he goes about his way, none the wiser.

Sighing, Rune holds her forehead, feeling an incoming headache.

“Shit,” she curses, pressing her lips together.

Now, she has to report to her spymaster that their situation has possibly gotten a whole lot worse.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016. / 14:20 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

A map of Portugal lies spread across the coffee table, corners pinned with paperweights, annotations scrawled in Liv’s sharp handwriting. Red circles knot around Coimbra, Lisbon, and the northern ranges where Tecedeira’s last signals had surfaced.

“Fontes dead,” Tove says evenly, flipping through a thick dossier of reports. “All communications cut. Whoever is moving in Tecedeira is covering their tracks well.”

Liv exhales slowly, leaning against the edge of the desk. Her hazel eyes track the lines and circles, but her thoughts churn elsewhere. 

“If Tatsuo was requested specifically, he knows more than he’s letting on,” she mutters. “There’s also the possibility that the Fontes’ death was not a coincidence.”

Tove nods once. “Think he's got something to do with their deaths?”

“I think he knows the ones responsible and is buying them time, for some reason,” Liv wonders, eyeing the area around Tecedeira. “What I can’t understand is why that fortress specifically? It was never of any significance.”

“Why is Tecedeira under Shuuin’s guardianship anyway?” Tove asks.

Liv hums. “Well, that’s a bit of a long story. The fortress was initially home to a noble Portuguese family in the sixteenth century. Tragedy struck, bad luck stuck around, and it became haunted. There were numerous attempts to cleanse the place.”

Tove quirks a brow. “With no success?” 

Liv shakes her head. ”None. The souls of the tortured noblemen turned into vengeful spirits. The Shuuin eventually extended help and appointed wardens to keep the place sealed.”

“And Fontes were the last,” Tove adds.

“Longest, too,” Liv muses. “For well over a century. That’s why all of this makes no sense.”

“What do you mean?” Tove crosses her arms.

Before Liv can answer, her phone buzzes. The name flashing across the screen softens her face despite herself. 

She lifts it to her ear. “Satoru?”

“Hey, sweetie,” comes the familiar drawl, easy and bright. “Tell me, got any serious plans in the next few weeks? I’ve got a handful of kids I’m thinking of enrolling. Thought maybe you’d want to tag along.”

Liv allows the faintest curve of her lips. “A few weeks? That’s a lot of time for me to set aside.”

“Yes, which is why I’m asking so nicely,” he says. “Name your price, doesn’t matter, as long as I can enjoy your company.”

Liv hums, gaze slipping back to the map. “What if you can’t afford my price?”

“Oh?” he chuckles. “I’m sure we can sort something out. There’s a whole list of things I'd be willing to do for you, with you, and to you.”

“Such as?” she taunts knowingly.

He pauses briefly, and she knows he’s smiling. “Heartless woman. You’re going to be the death of me.”

She laughs, biting her lip. “A shame, truly.”

“Whatever,” he clicks his tongue, before his tone softens almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, coming?"

An amused sigh escapes her lips before she answers. "Yeah, count me in."

"Cool," he says, satisfied. "See you at home.”

The line clicks dead, leaving her with the faint warmth of his voice still in her ear. Her smile stretches across her face, and rosy color dusts her cheeks.

“Liv Drakon,” Tove chuckles. “Now, that’s just shameful.”

“Shut up,” Liv retorts weakly, looking away. 

Suddenly, Tove’s phone buzzes. 

She checks the ID, then answers crisply, turning on the speaker, “Rune?”

A pause, then Rune’s voice filters through, low and measured. “Tatsuo’s been meeting with someone.”

Liv straightens. “Who?”

Rune hesitates, then, “Amadi, mistress.”

The Manor goes still. Tove glances at Liv with a shock in her eyes. Liv, on the other hand, looks livid.

The spymaster’s voice remains even. “And where are you?”

“I lost him in Minato and found him in a dark alley after some time,” Rune replies. “He called me afterwards, claiming to be on his way back to the Manor. I’m on my way there as well.”

Liv’s fingers curl against the desk, the wood creaking faintly under the pressure. Her jaw sets, fury simmering through her veins. She closes her eyes and checks the different residuals around the Manor and its premises. She can’t feel his presence, though.

“He’s not here yet,” Liv bristles.

Tove presses her lips together. “Did you manage to track his location in the meantime, Rune?”

“I was right behind him in Minato, but lost him once we were out of the ward,” Rune replies. “I’d guess he’s at least ten minutes ahead of me. I’m already near Nikko, so he shouldn’t be too far himself.”

“Good work,” Tove says before hanging up. “Liv - “

“So he plots behind my back,” Liv seethes. “With Amadi, of all people.”

The spymaster looks down. 

“Not here to interrupt my business, my ass,” Liv scoffs. “I knew he was up to something.”

“Maybe he’s looking out for you,” Tove offers softly. “He's been on your side since day one.  Amadi worships you, and Tatsuo is aware of this. You should let him speak, give him a chance - “

“Amadi is a traitor. If Tatsuo came to Japan to meet with him, it might not be their first meeting in secret,” Liv snaps, slamming her fist on the table. “Amadi has no leverage among the Shuuin, so there’s a good chance Tatsuo is trying to make a deal with Geto!”

Her words cut the air like a blade. The spymaster stares into her eyes with a sad expression.

Liv takes a deep breath, calming her mind. “We’re already targeted, Tove. I’ve put Satoru through enough bullshit to last a lifetime. I will not allow a third party to make it worse, not even if it's just a suspicion on my part. We’re cutting this at the root, and that’s final.”

Tove nods slowly. “Understood.”

Liv exhales sharply, the heat of betrayal settling cold in her chest.

Her hazel eyes shimmer red as she says evenly, “Stand by. If Tatsuo Shuuin wishes to test his mistress, he’ll suffer the consequences.”

Tove’s only response is a solemn bow.

Notes:

A bit of a short one this time around. I intended to have it as a longer chapter but then it'd be over 20 pages long. Instead, I broke it into two parts to keep the pacing even and not have so much jumping around in terms of POVs.

Anyway, hope you liked it!

Chapter 29: What's Worth Saving Part VIII

June 7th, 2013. / 00:31 / New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

 

Bourbon and jazz cling to the humid night air. Liv leans back against the bar, glass in hand, laughing at something Miguel just said. For a fleeting moment, she just forgets -

The weight of her parents’ deaths, the endless succession of expectations, the burden of the Shuuin name.

Miguel watches her with that easy grin, leaning close so his voice brushes against her ear.

“You’re too tense tonight,” he teases. “Try to relax. Let me take care of you for once.”

She snorts, draining the rest of her drink. “I don’t think I like that suggestive tone in your voice, Amadi.”

He tilts his head, gaze softening. “I’m not blind, mistress. You’re a beautiful woman.”

She quirks a brow. “You’re a bit old for me.”

He laughs. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I prepped in advance.”

When she frowns in confusion, he continues, “I want you to meet someone. Promise me you won’t be mad.”

“Mad?” she laughs bitterly, amused. “This I have to see.”

Miguel gestures subtly toward the entrance, and her eyes follow, narrowing as a figure steps into the smoky light. Tall, commanding, presence unmistakable. Her heart lurches - shock, disbelief. In the blink of an eye, she is taken back to the time when things were much simpler, more innocent. Nostalgia overwhelms her, even though she tries to swallow it down.

Hazel meets a pair of violets across the room, and despite herself, the corners of her mouth twitch upward.

Miguel’s grin falters just slightly, apologetic, almost sheepish. “Liv, meet a friend of mine.”

Liv glances at Miguel, questions popping in her head one by one. Meanwhile, Suguru moves with the calm inevitability of a storm, eyes scanning the room until they settle on them. 

The laughter dies in Liv’s throat. Her pulse hammers. She wants to ask so many questions, wants to demand answers, but the words stick in her throat.

Suguru stops beside them, all smooth menace and subtle charisma. His smile is polite, measured, but there’s an edge to it that sets Liv’s nerves on fire. The air between them is thick, taut, and charged.

Miguel clears his throat nervously. “I think you two might have a lot to talk about.”

Liv swallows, staring at the man who would later become a harbinger of chaos in her life.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016. / 15:12 / Tecedeira Fortress, Portugal

 

Suguru blinks into consciousness, the cold wind of Tecedeira biting at his skin. His eyes flicker over the jagged horizon, the ruins half-buried in snow and shadow. For a moment, the memory of New Orleans washes over him: the low hum of jazz, Liv’s laughter, the fleeting warmth of a life that had almost been ordinary.

He shakes it off, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Not now, he mutters. He cannot afford indulgence, not when the currents of fate have already pulled him this far. The pull is subtle, seductive, the echo of her presence lingering like smoke in his veins.

A shadow moves at the edge of his vision. Manami Suda steps forward, her coat fluttering against the wind. 

“Progress report,” she says, voice steady. “Miguel has met with the old Shuuin. All’s good to go.”

Suguru chuckles, low and dark, the sound swallowed by the emptiness around Tecedeira. 

“The irony,” he murmurs, his gaze hardening. “The clan most famed for loyalty and honor has a proclivity for undermining their kinsmen. And here I thought the Shuuin name would inspire unity.”

Manami does not respond, only bows slightly, eyes trained on him.

Suguru exhales, letting the bitter wind carry the last remnants of his fleeting reverie. He steps toward the gaping entrance to Tecedeira, each footfall crunching over snow and shattered stone. The shadows of the fortress’s interior twist unnaturally, as if aware of his presence.

Inside, the air is thick, oppressive. A low, resonant hum thrums from the depths, vibrating against his bones. Curses writhe in the darkness, their forms fleeting, almost liquid, yet dense with malice. Suguru bends, letting his hands graze the air, feeling the resonance of each being. The pull is intoxicating, yet controlled. He shapes it, bending it to his will.

He gathers them methodically, letting their power converge around him. Each curse is a note in a symphony of destruction; a stepping stone toward the broader plan. The air seems to shiver as he works, time slowing at the edges of his consciousness.

And as he ascends from the depths of Tecedeira with his collection secure, Suguru allows himself the smallest grin.

 

///

 

December 8th, 2016. / 15:24 / Shuuin Manor, Tochigi Prefecture, Japan

 

Liv feels him before she sees him. That distinct weight, that old, calculating presence pressing faintly at the edge of her senses, like a wolf waiting at the treeline. By the time Tatsuo’s silhouette reaches the foot of the hill, she already stands outside, coat unbuttoned, the winter air biting at her skin, fury keeping her warm.

He ascends slowly, cane tapping against the frozen stone. The faintest smirk tugs at his lips, not mocking, but self-assured. He has been caught, yet he wears his exposure like a badge, not a burden.

“Explain yourself,” Liv’s voice cuts the silence the moment he reaches speaking distance. 

No greetings. No courtesies.

Tatsuo bows deeply, almost theatrically. “It seems the news reached you beforehand, mistress.”

Liv scoffs. “You won’t even try to defend yourself?”

“What use would that be?” he says, lifting his head. “Your Inner Eye is far superior to mine. You’d see through me just the same.”

She shakes her head. “I expected more from you, Lord Tatsuo.”

He smiles softly. “All I do is in your interest, mistress.”

Her jaw clenches. “My interest? Please enlighten me. Since when is collaborating with a curse user aligned with Geto benefiting me?” 

Her words lash like whips, sharp, deliberate. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Tatsuo points out.

She comes dangerously close to his face. “Do you take me for a fool? We’re free, and you’re talking as if we’re facing a guillotine.”

“We are,” he adds evenly, “or rather, you are and you’re not even aware of it.”

She frowns.

Tatsuo straightens, his eyes calm, patient, as though he expects this storm. 

“Do you truly believe,” he asks, voice low and deliberate, “that your survival up to this moment has been by your own merit alone?”

The words slide under her skin like a blade, not by their force but by their insinuation.

Liv’s hands tighten into fists at her sides. Her pulse throbs in her throat. The cold wind cuts sharper, but it is nothing compared to the sudden rush of heat flooding her chest.

Tatsuo does not look away. He lets the weight of his question linger, testing her silence like bait cast into deep waters.

“You think you’ve survived by being strong and smart,” Tatsuo says, cane resting lightly at his side, “but the truth is you’ve been carried forward by currents that I set in motion.”

Liv’s lips press into a hard line. “Careful, old man.”

He tilts his head, voice lowering with every recollection.

“You crossing paths with Sorcerer Killer, freshly exiled, wasn’t a coincidence. I arranged the timing, ensuring you survive until you’re old enough to handle yourself.”

Her heart nearly breaks at the mere mention of the man. “Stop it - ”

“And three years ago, when you seemingly settled in New Orleans,” he continues nonetheless, “Suguru Geto’s appearance was not a chance. I opened the door for it, in hopes that you choose him and he chooses you. Two birds, one stone.”

Liv feels her nails bite into her palms. Each fragment of memory slots into place, threads she dismissed as random tightening into a net around her throat.

Her breath comes sharp, white in the cold. 

Tatsuo’s smile is thin, unreadable.

And then, like lightning splitting the dark, the thought strikes her. The whispers she and Tove have been chasing since they found out about Tatsuo’s arrival.

The spies.

Death of the Fontes.

Tecedeira.

Miguel.

Tatsuo.

The puzzle finally reveals its shape.

“You’ve sided with him,” she spits, voice rising, shaking with fury. “That's why you're leaving for Tecedeira.”

Her chest heaves, words hissing through clenched teeth, “A near-ceaseless pool of curses, a wellspring for him to feed on.”

For the first time, Tatsuo’s smirk falters; not out of shame, but in something closer to pride.

“How dare you?!” she snaps. “All of this, behind my back!”

He bows, unhurried, unshaken. “All of this, to protect you.”

“Protect me?!” her words come out sharp. “How does any of this protect me?!”

Tatsuo straightens, eyes narrowing faintly. “Since the day you assumed leadership, I’ve held one stance only - that you should have left all of this behind. That you should have built a life far from this house, far from jujutsu society.”

Liv’s throat tightens, but she doesn’t let it show. “So you sided with Geto? You’re mad, old man!”

“Yes,” Tatsuo agrees softly, almost amused. “This madness is preferable to the alternative.”

“Which would be what, precisely?” she retorts.

Tatsuo stares her dead in the eye as he says, “Siding with Satoru Gojo and the rotting husk of jujutsu society.”

“You think aligning with Geto will keep Shuuin alive?” she nearly cries out. “The moment the HQ learns of Shuuin’s involvement with Geto, they’ll order a manhunt! You’ve spoiled all my efforts to ensure otherwise!”

Tatsuo’s cane strikes the stones once, deliberate. 

His gaze is steady, merciless. “Do not deceive yourself. The Shuuin are barreling towards imminent death as we speak. The higher-ups will not be placated by Gojo’s affection for you. Your attempt to buy time by offering to conceive a Gojo heir is lame at best. Geto, on the other hand, is too powerful for them to track him down directly.”

The words hit her like ice water, cold and scalding at once.

“Cease this, now,” Liv’s voice cuts through the otherwise quiet Manor. “Whatever schemes you’ve spun, stop them. All may yet be forgiven.”

Tatsuo’s head tilts, his expression unreadable in the half-light. “It is too late.”

Her breath stills in her chest.

“Geto has already seized Tecedeira,” he continues, tone patient, almost fatherly. “My meeting with Miguel was not a negotiation - it was to seal the deal.”

For a moment, Liv’s fury burns so hot it nearly cracks her composure. 

She forces her shoulders back, keeps her voice steady, honed to a lethal edge, “How could you do this to me? You, of all people.”

Tatsuo exhales slowly, the sound almost mournful. His hand rests lightly on his cane. 

“If I must shatter your heart, then so be it,” he says honestly. “Better your heartbreak than your blood.”

The words strike too close. They echo Miguel’s words on her wedding day, his assurance that what he did was aligned with his conviction, even if it doesn’t appear as such.

Her nails bite deeper into her palms. “I should kill you for this.”

Tatsuo looks at her without fear, a faint, tired smile softening his face. “You won’t. Your heart is too gentle for that.”

The air thickens between them, heavy with betrayal and a love twisted beyond repair.

Liv’s fury cools, her breathing steady, as if her rage has crystallized into ice. Tatsuo watches her, shoulders sloping, his cane tapping once against the stone path. 

“If there is regret,” he says quietly, “it is that I had to resort to such underhanded tactics. If it's any consolation, I will not leak information until you’re safely away from the island.”

His words echo in the vastness of the surrounding forest. The gravity of his statement, as well as the casualness with which he says it, lands heavily. 

“Are you,” she chuckles, despite herself and in disbelief, “blackmailing me?”

“I implore you,” he stresses, “leave this island, as soon as possible.”

Liv laughs, gazing at the storm-clouded heavens. Tatsuo watches her calmly. When he doesn’t say anything, she glances at him again, disbelief, regret, and fury blatantly obvious in her eyes.

Finally, he bows his head, almost in benediction. 

Turning on his heel, he makes to leave.

Silently, the blade slides in between his ribs, clean and merciless.

Tatsuo stiffens, a wet cough breaking from his throat as blood stains his lips. His eyes, wide for only a moment, soften again into that maddening, paternal pride.

Liv steps close, her lips brushing against his ear. Her whisper is steady, cold. 

“Thank you for your long service, Tatsuo Shuuin,” she says, venom dripping from her tongue. “Rest.”

He coughs, replying weakly, “Mistress - “

The light drains from his grey eyes as he slumps forward, the weight of his body sagging against the blade before he falls limp to the ground.

The air hums. Her own breath is shallow, but her body thrums with power. Her eyes burn red, and across her arms and throat, runes glow faintly like scars lit from within.

Bootsteps. She doesn’t turn until Tove and Rune emerge from the shadows, their faces pale, eyes fixed in horror at the old man’s body sprawled at her feet.

Liv stands over him, unflinching. Her voice carries with it no apology, only law.

“All actions have consequences.”

The words hang heavy in the frozen silence.

Tove’s voice breaks the silence, low and cautious. “Liv?”

Liv doesn’t flinch, doesn’t allow herself the luxury of hesitation. She glances down at Tatsuo’s body, then back at the two spies. 

Her voice is calm, precise, and commanding, “Help me clean up this mess. Prepare him for the burial, as per Shuuin custom. I’ll afford him that much decency.”

"His death will warrant vengeance from others," Rune offers weakly. "Also, herre Gojo will ask questions and - "

"Lord Tatsuo left earlier than expected," Liv says grimly. "As for the others, if his absence is noticed, well - Tecedeira is an unforgiving place."

Rune and Tove exchange a glance, the weight of the act settling on them, but they move without question. They kneel beside the body, hands steady as they begin the meticulous work: closing the eyes, arranging the robes, each movement ritualistic, disciplined.

Liv steps back slightly, watching as they carry him away and toward the Shuuin forge. Her red eyes flare faintly as she hears thunder break overhead.

Lightning strikes, blinding the heavens, forcing her to shut her eyes on reflex. When she opens them next, she is not alone.

On her left, phantasm lingers, a solemn reminder of her burden and duty. The Great Mother’s gaze rests on the scene, detached, unreadable, as though the blood and sorrow around her are nothing but another step in some eternal pattern.

Winter seldom brings warm winds, Rei’s thoughts echo inside Liv’s head. You did well, pup.

Liv doesn’t comment.