Note:

Flashbacks and thoughts in italics

'Thoughts' in the flashbacks are in 'single' inverted commas.

I do not condone or encourage any behaviors in this story. It is simply a fictional story.


Author's Notes

Well. The last week had been depressing for me, literally draining. I did try to update soon. But then I knew that's not gonna happen, so here's it, I decided to extend the length of the chap. I have gotten better now, writing this chapter and all. Now, I'm going to get my hands on something yummy! I'll give some to the neighborhood cats. There's one with black and white fur, two with orange fur. Cuties.

Thanks for the love, and love y'all!


"Akira of Meraki"

CHAPTER 5

When pigs fly


.

The most rain-soaked wettest place in Japan, Yakushima is a primeval temperate rainforest extending from the center of the almost round-shaped, mountainous Yakushima Island. A small, remote island.

Fireflies eddied about the dew drowsing on the fronds, a flicker in the fog, as rain caressed the misty panes. Situated 60 km off the southernmost tip of Kyushu Island in the southwestern end of the Japanese archipelago, the island is located at the interface of the Palearctic and oriental biotic regions.

Mizzle glid down the roofs and rippled into the puddles below. Rainstorms churned across the land and swirled around the trees. Yasuragi was about to take his leave for a journey when fate decided that this was not the best time for him to be trekking away, high up in Mount Miyanouradake. He was not being furtive. Why should he be, he loved standing tall, sturdy, and proud. In all honesty. But it was true that he had indeed promised the clan's head an evening greeting along with some of his free tea time. He hadn't been a man so sticky with plans, quite flexible in his ways even. No, nobody will take him for a clingy man. But unfortunately, when he does plan to cling, he'd specifically use some Gorilla Glue to stick forever and begone.

"Where are you going with all that packed good?" Also, unfortunately, Okaasama caught him red-handed in the act. At least he had the decency to look guilty.

He sucked up a breath and gulped. "Now, I guess I'll keep these bags in their right places. Then customarily get back to wait for the tea."

She folded her arms and scrutinized him under a stern squint. "You have no tea today. You can stay out at night and contemplate your pilgrimage." So, the mistress of the house was not going to let it slide.

"Okay." He shall accept what he had brought. "Except that night part."

The drumbeat of water over one old steel can sunken in soil thundered over the thunder. Many traditional dwellings in Japan were thatched houses, naturally preventing the raindrops to concentrate in one location so additional drains were not generally used. But when your homeland is a place where perennial rainfall is worshipped, rain gutters will sound very appealing.

Yakushima's history dates back to 17,000 years ago. Long back, a great tsunami took all its inhabitants and the few who were left took over the land. Legend has it that there was once a disturbance in the heavens. Seeing the pandemonium they have brought on, and the number of innocent humans who were slaughtered in their feud, it is said that the deities formed a pact with the people of the island. Some of them hoped to revivify the isle. Yakushima is its people, and they realized that to rekindle the fire of life they had extinguished, the rebirth must begin in the hearts of its people.

And so, graced upon by Amaterasu-Ōmikami, the goddess of the sun, the elemental goddess of water reincarnated as a powerful curse inside the womb of a woman. Born to the ethnic tribe, this child possessed both the purity of Suijin and the ethereal luminescence of Amaterasu to fend off any evil. Passed down from generation to generation, this cursed power, ensured and continued to ensure the protection of the island from the catastrophic curses of nature. With the passage of time, the remaining people of the tribe became a clan and were later known as the Ashiyas. The curse, Akira.

For the last 48 years, the monsoon was missing in July, and the weather in Yakushima has been clement. But this time, the goddess of nature decided to make a change. Warm days got replaced with torrential downpours. There must be a reason. There must be. Because unlike the stereotype in contemporary ghost stories, rain for them meant a good omen. It has been their sign of birth and blessing for eons. They were waiting to kick off the celebrations for this new development that rang in their ears like the message from the Shangri-la, the symphony of gods.

"Book a flight to Kyoto. You see, Yasuragi. The rain wants us to." After the blonde thrust his soaked umbrella inside the umbrella stand, the woman spoke up. It did not look like the comedown would let up shortly.

"So, it is true that the sword went missing again." Inquiring, he sat near her on the verandah. Water pooled on the stone steps from the drenched ends of his grey hakama.

"That's nonsense, child. Who told you? The school of Kyoto will have failed. Our men might not have found it." The next thing she uttered made the raindrops take the form of pearls and diamonds to Yasuragi. "Regardless of everything, what has been lost, has finally returned to where it belongs. Akira has reincarnated again in its Meraki."

His neck jerked and his head whipped to observe the truth behind her words. Sure enough, she was not joking. "My goodness. I find it hard to believe. After all this time." Yasuragi's eyes were blown wide. "Is she in Kyoto?" He bit the inside of his cheek, sighing...

She put an arm over his and smiled, ebullience exploding in her gaze. "When I saw her, I couldn't believe what I saw. It's her daughter Yasu. She's our child. There is no mistaking it."

"I'll say, the wait was worth it. First things first, we must bring her home... and not just her, but also the boy and the little one."

"Kamisama... Is this really happening?!"


.

Nanami peered over the massive metal gates, at the mess in front of him, eyes red and watery. Renovated Kurama Graveyard. Need it to be renovated again?

"I suggest you leave." He told the driver who had tilted his head, apparently taking an interest in the amount of smoke billowing out of the gates. Nevertheless, before Nanami could interrupt his fascinated daze, the driver grinned, threw him a suspicious glance, and hit the bumpy road down the mountain. No doubt, he had smelled something fishy. But as far as he was concerned, bribing hadn't been made legal under the Japanese laws and Kento had tipped him enough to keep his mouth shut. The last thing Nanami wanted was for him to report this wonderful predicament to the police.

Crossing the road from the opposite lane, he gaped at the headless sculpture in the middle of the fountain, then coughed. Where pearly white should've been is now dusted black in a light film of charcoal. Nanami would've bashed the heads of those idiots for this epic level of recklessness. But that just wasn't his thing. Here in Kurama, there were two graveyards under the same name, a fact Nanami knew only now. Having said that, their ruckus happened here, at the wrong one.

"You are late, Nanami-san." He didn't have to hear that voice to know who it was. He made out the silhouette of a spiky bunch of hair appearing partly from the smoke-filled air.

"Of course. You're right for once." He was wiping off the beads of sweat that had trickled over his neck when the gates opened with a squeak. "What in the world happened here?" He asked with an answer in mind. Explanations weren't needed. He shall find out in person.

There were fewer burnt trees here and there. Next time he does this, I will kill him.

As if reading his mind, the snowy-haired figure in tracksuit bottoms and hoodie, flashed a grin, showing off his canines. A mild scent added to the air of silent charm around him. If Inumaki is nervous, he doesn't show it.

"Maki came on time," Toge said crisply. He dragged his ring finger under the strap of his mask, adjusting it over his face.

"Yeah, I think she did, but only after you decided to set this place on fire. You could've handled this with more care. All this property damage." Listening to the older man's hushed rant, Inumaki sagged against a lamppost.

"You think we weren't? But I admit that we could've done this sooner. We went over to the other one first. There was no trace of cursed energy. Nothing."

Nanami gave him a once-over, demanding for him to continue.

"We thought the curse users could've taken it. But when we came here, they were returning empty handled. It didn't take long before all hell broke loose. The collateral damage is not ours to pay. It's not me who set this place on fire. This much fire is not something I can produce with a cursed spell." It was clear from the droop of his head that he was just as dissatisfied as Nanami.

"Then, where did the weapon—"

Sure, it's a rare, powerful cursed tool. I can see Gojo's motives behind wanting to secure it inside the Tokyo School, preventing the traditional jerks from getting their hands on it. Because if that happens, there's a chance they'll try experimenting with the tool, and on us. But— Zipping up his hoodie, Toge cut through Nanami's incomplete speech and luxury train of thoughts.

"It's gone. It's nowhere here in the mountain. Maybe the Kyoto School smelled something fishy and swooped it out the grave before we do." The 27-year-old dug the edge of his polished shoes into the soft turf. Ahem. If we got the thing, it also would've been a valuable tool in our possession. He didn't continue with his questions. What is the point?


.

"I know right. We all expected them to get it done." Amidst the cotton clouds dispersed around the cobalt dawning, leaves of round-leaved Katsura and ruby maple flew around. Utahime stabbed a fork into an average plate of okonomiyaki and left it there like a flagstaff on the moon. She took the time to inhale and exhale, ever so slowly but ever so forcefully. The vista from the windows of her room, overlooking the entrance of the Kyoto school was indeed exquisite. She squashed into her chair, with her right arm almost crushing the paperweight under the tight grip. "What complications? Sure I'll inform Gakuganji-Sama.."

While she was staring into oblivion, something flashed past the sheen screen of her irises. The following minute, the woman gagged on her sauce and salad with very evident bug eyes. Her plight is of course justified. Because crashing over her relieving panorama of the campus were four wheels of a glossy black Acura NSX. It took exactly seven beats for Utahime to explode out of her paralysis at the sight, six to shuffle about her window to inspect it, and three to fumble with her phone.

"Ahh. I'll call you later." Because now I got some other serious shit to deal with.

Utahime sprinted down the stairs, agitated. Curse users are a pain in the ass. Persisting. At one long stretch, slowing her pace, she jogged over the sett and asphalt, across the premises to the Kyoto School Guest House. If they are what she thinks they are, then the meeting is not in the principal's office. She'll find them in the living room of the school's private guest house sitting at a tiring 500 meters away from the main school block and the faculty housing. Now what will I answer them, that curse users are to blame? Or that this happened because of our irresponsibility?

But you can't claim that curse users are the only cowards on the ground where real, practical work is done. They are fighting for the sake of their own twisted ethics or lack thereof. They could be greedy. So are the sorcerers who put on the hero-masks with the motive of guzzling down the golds. Once in a while, one predicament unintendedly turns out as a good deed done for the sake of the world, while another one transmogrifies into sin, like two sides of a coin in a toss. There is no such thing as good or bad. But the entire universe of our little world has sprung up from a game of comparisons. To make one thing, we create another. Without the other, there is nothing but a big zero of non-existence.

The click-clack of high heels resonated over the wooden floor and thudded into Utahime's ears. In her hindsight, she sensed a fleeting silhouette. Nearing the place, her eyes met that extravagant sight. Utahime turned around to meet a woman whose name she can recall with no constraint, particularly because the bizarre details that made up this woman had gotten engraved into her mind the very first time she had seen her.

Himawari Ashiya. The length of her loose olive Houmongi with pretty peony patterns swept the ground as she sauntered. Her eyes seemed like silver in sea fog. Long lashes kissed the powdered blush on her cheeks, and her black hair cascaded down her back like Kawaakari. Her size and her shape, are a portrait of perfection. She killed with her looks but grace glittered beneath her footsteps. At one glance, she looked like the sublime goddess of doom.

A wise woman in the corridors of power, who is at least 70 years old, but looks like an actress who stomped straight out from a 21st-century historical film. Also, the revered head of the Ashiya clan. Why she looks the way she looks is not public knowledge, so no use sticking our noses into Utahime's head. Thankfully, she has no freakin clue.

She leveled her breathing, before marching to the door ajar, stepping into the structure.

Pleasantries first. "Good morning Ms Himawari Ashiya." The gentlest place is the safest place for porcelain and glass. "What a surprise to see you here! I'd like to welcome you to the Kyoto Institution of Sorcery." Utahime blinked when she felt a drop of sweat sliding down her collarbone which was fortunately concealed beneath her cotton dress. "You must've come here to know the details regarding the sacred blade. I understand the depth of the loss. It was our fault for not being efficient enough." She walked around the table in the middle of the room and sat on the brown sofa.

An athletic, imposing blonde sat ever so calmly on the left side of the sofa, facing her, his chin propped up by the slender fingers of his left hand.

"Well. Well. It's nice meeting you as well, Ms. Utahime. We have a slight misunderstanding here though. You have nothing to be sorry about. It is not lost or missing." Ms. Ashiya shook her head. "It's here. We're in fact grateful for your service." The woman lifted her arms, explaining, thin gold bangles jingling along as she threw Iori a crooked grin. Gakuganji's personal servant placed a large tray of cookies and five cups of tea on the console table.

"They don't like cookies. So I'll take 'em." The youngest of their three guests, who seemed to be in his early twenties, grinned after popping a fig roll in his mouth. He was tall and shredded. His hair would've stood out even without the messy quiff. Voluminous and sunshiny orange. Long earrings dangled about his shoulders, flowering at the ends of two silver chains were silky tassels. He dressed to flaunt, and of course, above everything, he had their family's hallmark genes. Iori noted. He would make a nice substitute for the sun god in the Indian mythology series.

"I am sorry. Mr. and Mrs. Ashiya."

Upon hearing the servant's apology, he looked up and slapped a palm over his muscular thighs, bursting a small titter. "Bwa ha. People think that they're a couple... Oi, Oji-san... You know what?" Asking, his eyebrows immediately shot up, as if he was going to disclose a huge spoiler. "That's my grandmother and his son."

"It's insane how I can't help laughing at the same joke, for the tenth time in a row." He added.

"That's because you are insane. Now, if you don't behave, I assure you, I'll kick your butt to the moon on the way back." Hissing at his son, Yasuragi's brows buried together above the bridge of his nose. "Who invited this insolent brat?"

"I came along. I just want to meet the girl." Gosh. He took the two seater on purpose. I even had to take another car! The vicenarian simply rolled his eyes, which irked up the elder's displeasure. "It's a nice day. So, don't be grumpy, old man, and quit eyeballing me."

"Shh... Yasha!" If there is one person in this room Yasha will listen to, it's Yasuragi's mother, Himawari. She knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

Helpfully, her son wasn't far behind. "My apologies. Please ignore this fool." Cocking his face, the father quipped and blew a slight flip to his straight long mane.

"Yasuragi!" She glared. The blonde was a handsome hunk in his younger days, still is. And he especially loathes Yasha's annoying coinage: 'old man.' What can she say? Like father like son. Being the responsible woman she is, she had to put an end to it before it escalates into a family fight in the middle of this meeting. Because that would be epic.

She wanted to know how the girl was; if she was doing alright. But everything else aside, they felt pathetic for letting her slip off from between their fingers that easily. It's been years, and they'd gotten enough time to think things over and over. Many things, since thoughts aren't partial enough to let humans handle them. They had pleasant probabilities, many, unpleasant ones, legion. Yeah. The mind isn't a machine, it's a beast bounding down the uncharted. Making a fence around it is a hard task.

After a pregnant pause, Miwa's teacher bit her bottom lip, deciding to speak. "Erm. While I was relieved to hear that I'm afraid I didn't understand what you were talking about."

The head of the clan leaned back into the cushion, then drawled in a sonorous voice. "This is the most blissful occasion for us. One of our men identified the girl whom you had sent to Mount Kurama the other day." Rubbing her chin, Utahime peeked up curiously. "The sacred blade has returned to its righteous place by merging with our heir. We came here for Kasumi, the child of my youngest and only daughter, Mayura."

"W-what?" Iori stuttered, looking back and forth between Gakuganji and the woman.

Studying her, the blonde man frowned, before gathering himself together. "Mayura, my little sister, ran away with a man on her wedding day. We tried. We looked everywhere, inside and outside Japan, but we never saw her again."

That's when, Gakuganji's already open mouth, dropped open. Utahime flinched. "What?" "How?" The principal and the mentor asked at the same time, a chorus. Blinking, as their speech got restricted to that one single word.

Utahime massaged her temple with her digits. A shot of information has pierced into her head. These people could have knocked her down with a feather! Extreme. Excessive. Excellent.

"Tch." Is that what happened to Miwa last week? The teacher set her lips in a grim line. She should be showering them with questions. Still and all, that could wait. Because "I am more concerned about Miwa's safety." Her voice came out more calmly than she thought it would. The Ashiyas did not like the way Kasumi's surname rang in their ears. Even if her surname changes to Ashiya in the records, they can't change the way her friends and associates have been calling her for so long.

"Did you see any difference in her after you brought her back from the hospital?"

"She-she looked normal. Just tired. But umm.. never mind."

"What's it? Was there something on her body? A tattoo? Maybe." Yasuragi mumbled but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. The principal ran the neat nail of his index finger along the curve of his left ear, his mind in a ponder.

"No." Not one that Utahime could see. Kasumi had been in a pair of pajamas, all full sleeves, crew neck, and pants.

"I can feel the care you have for Kasumi, as her teacher. More than anything, I appreciate it." Soft metallic orbs darted to the left, thin lips on the rim of the teacup in her arm, taking a cold sip. "But please don't think that we aren't bothered. We are as well. Beyond being an ancestor, she is my grandchild. But this is a fact. We can do nothing but accept that the cat will be let out of the bag today or tomorrow."

"You are right." Gakuganji has no doubt about the higher-ups sensing the huge spike in cursed energy that has burst out in the process of merging. He cleared his throat. "They must have begun investigating the source. We can only keep it under the wraps for so long. They'll track it down to Miwa in no time and everything we're trying to hide will be exposed to the world."

"Let's see how long this will remain a secret."

.

.

"Having said that, I want to see Kasumi." Oh, that wasn't a bolt from the blue, if anything, Utahime fucking knew it. Although she wasn't as pleased as punch, her decision to provide them with information came as quick as a greased lightning.

"I sent her home last Monday. And told her to take a few days of leave. Uhh. I thought she needed a break after the incident." Explained, the younger of the brunettes.

"Aha." Himawari nodded, flicking an imaginary lint off the fabric on her shoulders. "Yasu, then I think we'll go meet her there."

"Alright." Yasuragi Ashiya pulled up his hair in a high ponytail, smirking. Miwa can fly back to Kyoto school after a while. Despite everything, she is still their student. But for now, she shall stay and get used to her new home. Moreover, she might also have to get used to the travel from Yakushima to Kyoto and vice-versa.

Sometimes life doesn't give you the privilege to choose for yourself. This is a change in your life, Kasumi. A permanent one. I hope you will understand without any ill-will... Either way, I'll make you come with us. My child, the more you refuse, the more you will learn that the bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists. Your fate has already been written. I'm sorry. But believe me, it will light your path to self-exploration...

"So, you're convinced about Miwa being the child of your missing daughter? I just want to be sure that you did double-check."

"I know where you're coming from. But since we don't have much time, I'm making it brief." The principal closed his eyes and shrugged, listening. "One, she is the exact photostat of her mother, except that hair. It's a mark of the divine cursed power that she had inherited from our ancestors. Two, don't you remember telling me on the phone that she read the name of our clan on the gravestone. She wouldn't have read it unless she's of the blood. Three, just for the record, I don't think that shade of blue is common around here or anywhere for that matter."


.

"Hahaha!"

She laughed occasionally, loud sounds growing into mild giggles even as she flipped through the pages. She held the magazine on her lap. It somewhat slithered against the nylon that garbed her like a second skin, but she caught it firmly so that it wouldn't fall off of her. Momo who had been at the wheel whipped around curiously.

"Don't tell me it's some silly beauty pageant." The brunette beside her was the one who asserted his question.

From the back seat of the car, Mai scrunched her eyebrows, annoyed. "Who told you that Beauty Pageants are silly?" She yelled over the traffic noise

"This." Her pointer finger's nail jabbed a column on the page she held up in the air for him to see, vaguely creasing it not long ago.

"This?" The young man in the passenger seat repeated without turning his head.

"Look at the photo, airheads."

"Will you pay for it, if I bust this car on someone? Oh, cheese and rice, Mai! It's Kamo's." Huffed her blonde friend, who seemed to have her eyes glued to the front. Mai sighed and cleared her throat.

"Give it a rest. I'm reading it. 'Abandoned mansion on fire. Unnatural happenings on the Kurama graveyard in Mount Kurama! Will Earth die in 20XX?'" Momo glanced at Todo. Todo looked at Mai, whose eyes went from him to Momo. In an instant, the three students broke into a fit of laughter. Rumors spread like wildfire, especially if the reporters take an interest in the topic and make it spicy like Sichuan hot pot, which is not even a tad bit surprising.

"Wait. Did you say Mount Kurama? Isn't that where Miwa passed out last week?" Rolling his broad strapping shoulders, the Boogie Woogie user jested.

"Umhmm. The by-product of Saturday's French psychological horror." Momo only snorted. Come to think of it, it was funny.

"Shit. I thought it was from dehydration or anemia."

"Mai. You wouldn't believe it."


.

The Tokyo Tower overshadowed anything beneath. As the automobiles raced north and south, almost raising her skirt a few inches too high, the cold wind grazed the strip of skin that got exposed. It was Mai who told her to buy a new dress for the upcoming party. She asked if Miwa wasn't bored with that dress she always wears whenever something like a party pops up. Yet Kasumi had been over the top with the idea of saving up that silly stuff like parties didn't cross her mind. After buying two travel mugs, a teriyaki sauce, some bedsheets, and sanitary products, she wanted to buy something for her little brother with the remaining money. His birthday will be in a few days.

She gazed at the orange ambers that bejeweled the skyline. The sun was setting. Miwa called a cab, heading home to Kyoto. It will be at least 11 when she gets home, late. Mai insisted on coming along to the boutique, but Miwa refused, saying she wanted to choose. It was her day off. She flopped on the squishy polyester, her heavy bags falling on a pile beside her lap as she cradled her frazzled head. She let the numb process of overthinking sink her mood like a paper boat in a never-ending rain.

Like every damn budding Jujutsu sorcerer who has had the golden chance to enroll in Metropolitan Curse Technical College, Kasumi has had a fair share of encountering unsuspecting curses. Her miserable side doesn't come out too often. Over the years, she had learned the art of keeping them guarded.

The vesper had pink wash over the chalky ether. With each fleeting flash of a car or jeep moving past them, diverging in opposite paths, and each honk of a bus packed with people, memories came flooding back. Tales of a crumbling family, ghosts of pasts creeping in, reminding her of all the unpleasant surprises left to knock at her door. Now was one of those grim afternoons reserved for the constellations of her thoughts. It is impossible to erase the memories of her mother sailing into her to see what others couldn't and hearing unearthly voices she shouldn't. She saw her schizophrenic daughter as a brand new burden. If only she knew Kasumi was neither abnormal nor normal. Her mother's meager savings didn't help to provide any unavailing treatment.

How can you cure a disorder that doesn't exist?

But everything was a drama? Wasn't it? She did know, yet she pretended like Kasumi was ill. Did her father force her into this state? Or was it the fear of her family finding out about a child with cursed supernatural powers? Or were they hiding from something else? The thought of her father being cruel was over the top. She could never even imagine him like that.

It was a long trip. Efforts to doze off were in vain. If poverty was a common thread in tragedies, Kasumi's childhood is a big one. Although, had they been rich, her life wouldn't have been any different. Rewriting that tragedy would mean changing her parents and wiping out her very existence from earth land. The taxi pulled up near a stretch of palings adorned with vines and ivy. It was a countryside house. Her brother once told her how nice it was to be back in the glinting neat residence. In his dorm room, sweeping had diminished to him or his roommate preserving the artistic portrayal of gossamers all over their windowsills. Her cropped bomber jacket pushed back as she settled her hands on her hips, and black stockings tucked comfortably into her boots. He was indeed right. Miwa felt at home, sweet home.

She would love to find someone to love and settle down with him one day. It is not likely to happen though, a guy that kind could not perhaps exist. What sort of a man is going to choose someone like her? She is incompetent. The most she can do is triumph in academics and watch over her siblings. How could the theory of love ever work in a world where your endowment in slaughtering bloodlusty curses is all that matters? She has to stop working at Jujutsu Technical High to experience a smooth life, which is not an option. Still, it would persist being a taunting wish.

Her brothers weren't home. First, a relaxing shower cleansing her body of every last bit of smoke and dust from the bustling city. Then she'll treat herself to a delicious cabbage soup, and lastly, her one-person slumber party. However, her plans were just about to be butt in on.


Author's Note:

To my dear readers:

Moria13: Hahaha. :D Hope you liked this one!

TheOtherDestiny: Yep, Inumaki and Miwa will meet again. I'm not giving any more spoilers XD. Although not soon, our protagonists will also have to meet... and that's going to be dramatic. I'll write more about Gojo and Miwa in the following chapters. Kasumi's life is about to take a new road, one less traveled by. Things are just unfolding.

Bonus points

*Okay guys, so guess what, in this story, Inumaki can speak without the fear of his curse speech activating unnecessarily. I think it'll make things detailed.

*Also, in case you're interested, the Yokohama city I mentioned in the previous chapter is in Kanagawa Prefecture. I have lots of important locations planned out, as well as other details in the story. I'll make use of 'em in the future chapters.

*The name Himawari means 'sunflower,' Yasuragi means 'peace of mind,' Mayura means 'peacock,' and Yasha is a sneaky naughty sexy 24-year-old.