chapter 8: object to which you're bound
cw: mentions of underage abuse, childbirth, fetal parts, and normal jjk darkness / violence
Despite her warnings, Yaga visits her daily. He has minimal updates. Yuna is certain he is hiding something and doesn't want her to panic, but the fact that he doesn't bring her the most critical update is enough by itself.
It's been ten days, and he hasn't heard from Yuki.
Yuna knows she should not be angry, but she is livid.
In the infuriatingly warm isolation of her cell, Yuna seethes—she would have never met with Fushiguro Toji had it not been by Yuki's request, she would have never even taken this stupid job were it not for Yuki's reassurance that she would return. She should have known. Yuki has always been flaky, blind to the details in pursuit of a grander scheme; Yuna doubts she ever really finished a mission report in complete success, as she'd always had Yuna with her since Yuna wasn't allowed on solo missions. To Yuki, imprisonment is a blip in the road, a knot that will resolve with a gentle tug without thought of who has hands free to do the tugging. Yuna should have taken up Yuki's offer for a binding vow when she'd had the chance.
On day eleven, Yuna's fury peters out. The licking flames cling to the remnant drops of her hope, quickly devoured instead by introspection which almost always leaves her with nothing but a gaping void that gnaws at the worst parts of her. Of course Yuki would not return. Yuki is a Special-Grade sorcerer, strong and intelligent and fiery with a vision of ridding the world of Curses and Cursed Energy. Yuna does not have vision of even next year. If Domains are reflections of one's truest self, then Yuna's reflects her meaning: Oblivion, that which does not exist, a space not even worthy of light. She is not surprised, is barely even disappointed. It is consistent with the value-signaling she has received since childhood, and part of her wonders why Yaga even bothers to try, when she is worth so very little, when Yuki has come to this realization already.
On day fourteen, or what Yuna assumes is day fourteen, Kamo Hiroto's face resurfaces, and Yuna is trapped in a loop of her greatest sins. The room is dark, lit only by the waning light of flickering candles, and the stench of iron floods her nostrils. Contractions seize her frame like lightning shocks every several seconds before her insides split apart. Hiroto's dark eyes gleam in candlelight as blood and something even more sinister spills out of her, a monster, tethered still to her by a cord that pulses with each beat of her heart, and she can sense, knows, somehow, that she can wield this monster and its blood. Hiroto screams, then Yuudai bursts into the room and starts screaming too, until both of them no longer can and the room is splattered with crimson and all Yuna can hear is someone laughing, she thinks it's her, or maybe it's the monster, or maybe they're the same—
"Sensei."
Yuna's eyes snap open.
Satoru crouches in front of her, sitting on the back of his heels, his blue eyes unveiled and shining with light brighter than Yuna is used to after days of living in sepia. She squints at him. He looks well, dressed in traditional garb of varying shades of gray and black. His haori is stitched with patterns of a waterfall that ripples with every movement.
Yuna's voice comes out like sandpaper. "You look like a proper young master, Gojou-kun."
He scoffs and sits down fully on the ground, as if to make the point that proper young masters wouldn't dirty their fine clothes like this. "It's my parents. They hate the school uniform."
"This certainly looks more dignified."
"It's so stuffy," he complains, which is a lie because the fabric looks superbly soft.
"How are you, Gojou-kun?"
He wrinkles his nose. "No offense, sensei, you're not really the one who should be asking that. They don't even let you shower here?"
Yuna flushes, because she's vain, and because she knows she likely smells awful and looks horrible; Yaga is too kind to mention anything, and Shouko had been too emotional. Satoru, of course, knows no tact.
"My apologies. They don't. Just bathroom breaks."
"Yeesh." He leans back on his hands. "Sorry I couldn't come sooner. My parents are around."
"I've heard. You shouldn't be here, Gojou-kun."
"It's fine," his tone is dismissive. "What are they going to do to me?"
Yuna doesn't have a legitimate answer to that, so she says nothing in response.
"How are you gonna get out of this, sensei?"
"I haven't quite figured it out yet," she admits, "but you shouldn't worry. I'll be fine."
Satoru fixes her with a look. "Sensei, you know I hate your whole self-sacrificial, Miracle thing, right?"
"You have made it clear you disapprove of my Technique, yes."
"Not your Technique, just the Miracle one. There's no point in us fighting for you when you aren't fighting for yourself."
"I never asked you to," she answers.
Satoru's eyebrow twitches. "Forget it. I knew this wasn't going to be a useful conversation. Just know we're just trying to help, so don't get mad."
"What are you planning?"
"Nothing," he says in sing-song. "Don't worry. We aren't gonna let ya die. Awful way to end first-year."
"Gojou-kun."
"Let's talk about something else."
"Gojou-kun," Yuna's tone finally takes an edge. "When Ieiri-san visited earlier, what did she do to me?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Other than she thinks that she's a good kisser." He grins. "Which means you must be good too."
"This isn't the time for jokes—"
"I'm thinking of telling my parents about Suguru and me," he interrupts.
Yuna pauses. Satoru looks as serious as he can be, and she realizes that this is the way he is—he's like Yuki, he treats her imprisonment as a minor hassle, one he can easily fix, while his relationship with Suguru takes precedence over all else. She has never been good at talking with Satoru one-on-one, not without Suguru or Shouko as buffers.
"Why?" Yuna asks, falling into Satoru's pace. "Because they're here?"
"Yeah, but also because…" He purses his lips, "I think they're trying to figure out a way to kill him."
Yuna's first reaction is that he's being dramatic, but then she remembers the Zen'in assassins and Shouko's observation that the Gojou parents are more preoccupied with Suguru than with Satoru's imprisoned teacher being a murderer.
"And you think telling them about your relationship will prevent them from doing so?"
"Yeah, like they'll know he's important to me, so they'll lay off."
"Have you talked to Getou-kun about this?"
"No, didn't think it'd reflect well on me that my parents are trying to off him."
Yuna lets out a breath. She's starving but the thought of any food makes her nauseous. Satoru hadn't even brought water. She draws her knees up to her chest and leans her head on them. Satoru's selfishness is nothing new, and to be honest, she'd rather talk about his problems than her own.
"Sensei? Sensei, I was still talking."
"I'm listening," she answers. "Getou-kun can protect himself. Your family could throw whatever assassins at him and he'd be quite fine on his own. What Getou-kun worries about more his being outed when he's not ready. We've talked about this, Gojou-kun. You need to do what Getou-kun is comfortable with. Are you sure telling your parents that he is an important friend to you isn't enough?"
"You didn't grow up in one of the Three Great Families. There is no such thing as friends."
"Then tell them you'll kill them if they hurt him."
"You were the one who told me threatening violence doesn't always work!" Satoru whines. "I'm following your advice, sensei, try a little harder, won't you?"
Yuna looks up at him wearily. "Then tell them you're taking over the role of the Gojou head. If they hurt him without your authorization, you'll abandon your role, leaving the clan to fend for itself. No further explanations."
Satoru's eyes light up, even more than they are normally, and Yuna winces at the sight of practical shooting stars crossing the landscape. "Brilliant! That's so good, sensei, they'd hate that!" He stands up and brushes off his hakama. "Thanks, sensei!"
"You're welcome," she says without any irony, despite being the only one feeling the weight of their complete conversational dissonance.
Satoru's hand suddenly lands in her greasy, gross hair, and Yuna startles so badly she bangs the back of her head on the pillar she's tied against.
"Don't touch me."
She doesn't add that she can barely look him in the eye, much less tolerate him touching her. Satoru is the Gojou heir, the clan's young master, clean and elegant and powerful; what is she doing, giving advice to him like she has anything to offer the Special Grade savior promised to the jujutsu world. She is just a speck who has survived by sheer luck and sin. The cord chokes Hiroto and Yuudai, their screams fade and their faces purple, the same color as the baby's, who stares at her with four eyes and two heads and says, "Mama"—
"Hey." Satoru kneels in front of her. He doesn't touch her. "Sensei."
"You should go," she whispers.
"We're going to get you out of here. You don't need to worry." He shuffles and sits back down in front of her. "We won't let you die."
If Satoru knew everything, would he say the same thing? If she had told Yaga the truth from the start, would he have taken her in?
Yuna does not want to die, but is not convinced she is worth life, either. In the end, though, the choice has never really been hers.
The trial of Morimoto Yuna takes place sixteen days after she is apprehended. Despite growing up in these settings, it is the first trial Satoru has participated in that he has mild investment in, though he knows better to let anyone else know.
It is held in Higher-Up headquarters, where most of the Higher-Ups hide behind their byoubu screens. Interspersed in front of the screens are the representatives from the Three Great Families. Zen'in Naoya smirks from behind his father, Zen'in Naobito, who does not even hide that his gourd is full of sake as he guzzles it down, sloshing the stench of alcohol all over him. The Kamo head is characteristically much more formal, dressed entirely in black and red. His bastard son sits quietly behind him, his eyes closed and head downcast. Naoya is eyeing the Kamo boy like a snake would a mouse—the Kamo boy better shape up soon, or Naoya will devour him, bones and all.
Satoru sits in front of his parents, the only heir to do so. He is dressed in deep blues and dark grays, his sunglasses tucked in the folds of his robes. Per his request, the lights of their atrium have been dimmed so his head pounds less than normal without his glasses. He would have left them on, if it weren't for the fact that he is much more intimidating when his Six Eyes are visible for anyone to see, a reminder that he could kill them with a mere snap of his fingers.
Suguru sits with Shouko and her parents, who are present as expert witnesses and the only non-Higher-Ups or Three Great Family members seated at the main circle. Suguru grins at him and Satoru gives a small smile back; it's Satoru's first time assuming the role as the Gojou head. He's not nervous, but it's reassuring to see Suguru all the same. Shouko is finally cleanly showered and her fingers are newly polished black (Suguru had texted Satoru throughout the trip, complaining that Shouko was going through a pack of cigarettes a day and was even meaner than normal). She hides her addiction well, still as pondwater, as her mother, a willowy woman whom Shouko takes strikingly after, glances through her notes again.
"Satoru."
Gojou Sayuri leans by Satoru's ear. Her silvery hair waves over his shoulder, and she smells like her favorite perfume, jasmine blossom with a touch of sage. She is the only wife of the Three Great Families to be present—the Zen'in wife's absence is no surprise, given how the main wife is always changing, but the lack of the Kamo wife is odd given her presence at the campus visit. Sayuri does not concern herself with the comings and goings of the other wives. Birthing Satoru means she, too, will never again know the taste of competition.
"Are you certain you don't want your father to do this? It's your teacher we're talking about after all. We understand if this is a sensitive matter for you."
"I'll do it," he says coolly. "Knowing you guys, you'd order her to be executed so you can replace her with a Gojou tutor."
"Satoru!"
"Relax. I'll assume the other head duties soon enough," he says. "That includes overseeing the assassins we deploy too."
"Satoru, we already explained we wouldn't do anything to your classmates—"
"Enough." Satoru glares at her, and Sayuri shrinks back. "I'll take care of this, and then you and Otou-san can return to the compound until I call for you."
"Mind how you speak to your mother, Satoru," murmurs Gojou Satoshi.
Satoru scoffs but says nothing else. Across the room, Suguru finds his gaze and raises his eyebrows.
Stop being belligerent, he telepathically transmits.
Satoru wants to stick his tongue out at him. I'm doing this for you, you dumbass. I was supposed to have another four years of just being the heir, not the stupid head, now I have to do paperwork.
Suguru, of course, knows none of this, but seems to understand that Satoru wants to flip him off, because he does it subtly instead. A vein pulses in Satoru's head—the little shit—
Shouko's glare intercepts their silent conversation, and they both back down.
The doors open. Yuna is escorted in by Yaga, arms still bound behind her, but at least they've let her shower because she looks much cleaner than when Satoru had seen her a few days ago, and no longer smells so foul. Her hair is braided loosely over her shoulder, and she is dressed in all white robes, as if the verdict has already been decided, and the audience is eager to see how prettily her clothes will stain with her blood.
The two of them sit down in the center of the circle. Naoya mutters something to Naobito, who guffaws.
"This meeting will be called to order," says Gakuganji Yoshinubi, the head of Kyoto's school who has been called to Tokyo specifically to mediate this meeting. "We begin the trial of Morimoto Yuna, accused of murdering Kamo Akiteru, on the third of March. The charge of unprovoked murder is punishable by death. The prosecutor will be the Kamo family, defendant will be Morimoto Yuna, represented by Yaga Masamichi."
"Actually," interrupts Satoru, "represented by the Gojou family."
Gakuganji turns slowly toward the Gojous. "I was not made aware of this."
"Last minute decision," chirps Satoru. "Yaga-sensei can do his own thing. I'll just chime in."
"That's not the way this works, Satoru," says Yaga.
"I don't think it really matters. Kamo-san!" He claps his hands together. "Wanna start?"
Kamo Ryuusuke stares at Satoshi, who merely blinks back. "Is this how you raise your heir, Satoshi?"
"Hey, that's rude." Satoru snaps his fingers, and all eyes are drawn uneasily to the movement, but no bodies combust. "I'm the Gojou head here. You should address me directly."
"You are not yet of age—"
"Doesn't matter," says Satoru coldly. "I'm the head. Let's begin."
Yuna's eyes meet his from behind Yaga's shoulders, and Satoru tries to give her a reassuring nod. She instead shakes her head. Satoru realizes that everyone is terrible at communicating without words and decides to ignore everyone, including the defendant.
"Very well." Kamo adjusts the sleeves of his robes. "After our visit to Tokyo Jujutsu Technical Institute, it was brought to my attention that the first-year teacher, Morimoto Yuna, possesses a Technique with similar properties to that of the Kamo Inherited Blood Technique. Our agents performed a background check and discovered the same information that was recently circulated among the Three Great Families and the two Institutes. We arranged for a meeting with our Window, Kamo Akiteru, and Morimoto-san to ask her to step down from her position, in light of this history of homicide. While we do not take any responsibility for the actions of Kamo Hiroto, whom our clan expelled many years ago, we offered Morimoto-san financial compensation. The meeting turned violent, and she killed Kamo Akiteru. By the laws established by our greater Jujutsu Society, Morimoto-san should be labeled a Curse User and consequently executed."
Gakuganji nods slowly. "Understandable. The defense?"
"The Kamo report, respectfully, is false," says Yaga. "Morimoto states that the Kamo Window's intention was to kill her. They placed a Black Market bounty on her head. She was acting in self-defense."
"Impossible, our Window did not have a Technique that could threaten a Grade Two sorcerer."
"There was a bounty hunter."
"Says who? There was no one else at the scene of the crime. We have offered generous rewards for anyone with more information about the event to step forward, and no one has. There is no proof for what she claims, Yaga-sensei. We have only the body of a Kamo representative and an unstable woman who does not even deny the accusation of multiple murders."
"She is not unstable—your family member tortured her as a child!"
"Who is to say even that is true? Both her husband and Kamo Hiroto are dead, while you have been allowing a woman accused of homicide to teach your students—"
Satoru clears his throat. "Who cares?"
"Excuse me?" Yaga growls.
"No offense, Yaga-sensei, but who cares?" Satoru leans his chin on his hand. "This is just he-said, she-said, and we all know how that will turn out with this lot. There's no footage surrounding that alleyway or weirdly enough, anything in the entire Akibahara neighborhood from that night. Someone wiped it out before we could get to it." His eyes flicker over to the Zen'ins. "So there's no proof on sensei's behalf. I'd like to change the terms of the trial."
"This is ridiculous," Kamo fumes. "Satoshi, get your boy in order!"
"Don't forget what I did to your guards, Kamo-san." The Six Eyes glow. "You should at least let me finish. I'd like Morimoto Yuna to be charged not as a Curse User, but as a Cursed Object."
"What?"
"Kamo Noritoshi's research resulted in nine Cursed Objects, the Cursed Wombs: Death Painting series. We know Kamo Hiroto was trying to replicate this work. The umbilical cord used to kill Kamo Hiroto and Morimoto Yuudai meant that Morimoto Yuna had been pregnant at the time of their deaths." Satoru avoids Yuna's face firmly. Even he is not proud of what he will say next. "We retrieved the fetal objects from Ogawa and compared it and Morimoto-sensei's blood to a sample of one of the Death Paintings."
"You did what?" Yaga gapes. "Satoru, this breaches a thousand ethical violations—"
Satoru holds up a hand. "Ieiri-san?"
"I ordained the analysis and performed it myself," says Ieiri, her dark eyes flitting over her notes. "This case was brought to my attention by my daughter, who is a student at this school. I am the lead researcher responsible for Curse Grade, Weapon, and Cursed Object classification. The fetus was eight months old, contained Residuals of but no active Cursed Energy in its remains, which means it was not a Cursed Womb. Morimoto-sensei's blood, on the other hand, matched the Residuals left in the fetus and has partial overlap with that of a Cursed Womb. She therefore meets criteria to be classified as a Cursed Object."
"What do you mean by this?" snarls Kamo. "How would this change anything?"
"Because," Satoru says slowly, "like Curses, Cursed Objects are not objects of free will, but rather can be tamed and owned."
Satoru's an asshole, has always been an asshole, but this has to go in his list of Top Ten Worst Things Ever Said. Shouko and Suguru's endorsement of this plan makes him feel slightly better, but he still can't bring himself to look at Yuna.
"The Gojou clan claims ownership over Cursed Object Morimoto Yuna and will pay the appropriate fine of a casualty involving a Cursed Object. She will be retroactively listed as discovered and claimed by the Gojou clan and will hereby be listed in the Gojou inventory."
"This is preposterous," laughs Naobito, who clearly no longer has any stakes in this trial. Satoru would pay good money to know what was on the footage the Zen'ins destroyed and to find who exactly they're protecting. "What's the use of owning this kind of Cursed Object? Cursed for more reasons than one—the Death Paintings should be exorcised, boy! This one should be too."
"Satoshi," says Kamo, "you have always let your household run wild, but this child is clearly mad."
Satoru would love to go mad, would love to show Kamo Ryuusuke what would really happen if the Gojou heir was truly as unhinged as he wants to be. He hates this entire fucking thing, from the dimly lit room and the shadows flickering behind the byoubu screens down to his stupid polished zori. He didn't actually want to be head until he was of age, wanted to see what it was like to just be a dumb kid in a dumb school for just a little longer, and some part of him resents Yuna, actually, for putting him in this position where he's forced to face the shittiness of adulthood before he really wanted to.
Behind him, Satoshi clears his throat. His eyes are not as bright blue as his son's, as he does not bear the Six Eyes. "Satoru. Why don't you show them what you told us about this Object's Maximum Technique?"
Is it bad that he thinks of killing his parents not infrequently?
Sayuri puts his hand on his shoulder. "We agreed to this because of the Technique, Satoru. You must show the other clan heads the protection you have obtained."
"Fine." Satoru gets to his feet and withdraws a scroll from his bag. He unravels it, showing three talismans printed with the same character in bright red ink.
"You're fucking kidding, Satoru," says Yaga.
"Sorry, sensei." He doesn't know which teacher he's apologizing to. He pins the talisman to his chest and releases his Limitless. "Maybe you can untie Morimoto-sensei, eh? So we can give a proper show?"
"This is—"
"Yaga-sensei." It's the first time Yuna has spoken since her own trial began. "Please untie me."
"Yuna—"
"I do not think this trial will end in any other way," she says quietly. She meets Satoru's eyes at last, and her gaze is burning.
Let her be angry, thinks Satoru. I'm fucking pissed too. It's your fault you're so weak.
Gakuganji steps in. "Untie her, Yaga. The trial of a Cursed Object depends on its worth."
Yaga undoes the bindings slowly. Satoru waits patiently for Yuna to warm up her wrists, returning circulation to her arms, before she lets out a long, shaky breath and lets her eyes fall closed. She is ready.
"All right," Satoru waltzes over to the Kamo head. "My Limitless is deactivated. Here, see?" He pats him on the cheek. The Kamo head swings out at him, but Satoru blocks. "Whoa, man, just proving a point. You're gonna like this next part, though. I want you to send a Blood Arrow straight through my head." He points right between his eyebrows. "Kill me instantly."
"Have you truly gone mad? There are easier ways to incite a war!"
"I mean, duh, but I'm asking you to kill me," says Satoru brightly. "Look, if you kill me, who even is going to retaliate? My parents? Yeah, right. I'm just trying to prove a point."
Kamo seethes, but makes no move to activate his Technique. Satoru stands up, annoyed. He wanders over to the Zen'ins.
"How about you guys, huh?" He points to his forehead. "You get one shot. Promise, no retaliation."
Naoya straightens up eagerly, but Naobito cuffs him over the head. "Don't be an idiot. It's a trick."
"It's not," whines Satoru. "If I ask my parents to do it, no one will believe it's real! Ieiri-san?"
"Don't bring my mom into this," snaps Shouko, standing up. "Here, I'll do it. I got a gun."
"Huh?" Suguru starts. "From where?"
Shouko doesn't answer, instead cocks it expertly and points it at Satoru. "Test shot?"
"Ugh, sure, fine, but you're healing me later."
Shouko squints and fires. The bullet lodges in his shoulder with a bang; Satoru reels, cursing wildly under his breath as pain sears up down his arm and up his neck.
"Satoru!" gasps Sayuri.
"I'm fine," he winces. "Just proving it's a real gun. Hurry up, Shouko."
"Shut up." She squints again. "Sorry about this, sensei."
She pulls the trigger, and just as the bullet is a hair's breadth away from Satoru's face, the Barrier erupts, immediately shattering into a thousand gold translucent shards as the bullet makes contact. The talisman burns into ashes. Yuna doubles over, coughing up blood, and her Cursed Energy drains to nothing.
"Ow, ow, ow! Heal me, Shouko!" Satoru steps over Yuna to find Shouko, who rolls her eyes and heals his arm with a quick surge of Positive Cursed Energy. Yaga checks in on Yuna, who brushes him off as she straightens up and wipes the blood off her chin, staining the sleeve of her robe.
"A useful Object," admits Kamo at last.
"The protection of the wearer from a life-threatening event," observes Gakuganji. "It will need to be formally appraised as a Cursed Object, but we will set the fine for the casualty at five hundred million yen, paid to the order of the Kamo clan."
"Seems reasonable," shrugs Satoru.
"She should be owned by the Kamo family," intones Kamo. "Her Technique is based on ours, she was created—"
"By a man you expelled," says Yaga coldly. "Unless you want to take ownership of his crimes, too."
Kamo purses his lips. "Very well."
Satoru claps his hands together. "Success! No execution! Meeting adjourned!"
His eyes meet Yuna's, and he is met with that same feeling he'd had when he realized she'd killed her husband. Yuna's Cursed Energy is stained indigo-black, and it pulses and writhes like a snake crawling out of its skin. She does not thank him. He does not feel gracious.
Nothing fucking matters. The weak are so weak, he thinks. They should be thankful for what they get.
"As much as I loathe Satoru-kun," says Naoya as he and his father stroll through the jujutsu courtyard, "you have to admit things are rarely boring when he's involved."
Naobito chuckles. "I'd pay to have Kamo's expression framed in our main hallway."
Fresh petals waft down and pad the stone path. Crushed under their footsteps, they release a lovely floral aroma into the air. Jujutsu High pales in comparison to the beauty of the Zen'in compound, especially the inner gardens Naoya prefers.
"Good thing everything with Toji didn't come up, eh?" he remarks.
"Quick thinkin' on your part," grunts Naobito. "Getting the footage."
"Just had a feeling," preens Naoya. "Didn't seem like the kind of job Toji would take, but you know how he loves surprises."
"That piece of shit," grumbles the Zen'in head. "Never willing to do our dirty work, but will pull this kind of shit for Kamo? The moment we get our hands on that son of his…"
"Toji will be worthless to us," agrees Naoya. "Megumi-kun, isn't it? Do you think it's true, Otou-san? That he has the Ten Shadows Technique?"
"Yeah. Toji sent me a video."
Naoya's jealousy flares, but he hides it. "Lucky Megumi-kun. Talk about divine retribution. Trash like Toji yielding a Technique like that."
Naobito drinks from his flask. "Indeed. An outcast yielding the Family Head."
Naoya stops in his tracks. "What?"
His father arches an eyebrow at him. "You serious? You think someone with the Ten Shadows wouldn't be anything but the Head? Grow up, Naoya."
Naoya seethes. "Of course, Otou-san."
He falls into step beside his father. Just as Naoya exits the College, he glimpses a billowing white sleeve, stained with blood, but it has no Cursed Energy and disappears so quickly, he blames it on a trick of the moonlight.
Yuna sits in a park. It's a cool spring morning, the air is damp and the sky is gray, the clouds promise afternoon rain. On the playground, only a few scattered toddlers idle about, their young parents occupied on their phones, looking up intermittently to berate their child who is climbing too high up the jungle gym or is screaming too loudly. Yuna peels the plastic off her pack of cigarettes, unwrapping it delicately and sliding one stick out. She has never been much of a smoker, but she and Yuki had experimented a few times over their second-year summer break, and she finds it relaxing once in a while, if not for the nagging threat of lung cancer.
She clicks her lighter. She has asked Yaga for a week long break, which the principal was eager to grant while he substitutes in for the first-years. She has refused to see any of her students. They think she is being petty. Yuna, for intents and purposes, does not give a shit.
A shadow passes over her.
"Hummingbird."
For a man of his stature, Fushiguro Toji moves with the quiet agility of a shadow panther, his presence made known first by the slice of his claws. He sits lazily down beside her, arms spread over the back of the park bench, and crosses his left ankle over his right knee. He takes up space the way arrogant, self-entitled men who have always borne very little consideration for others do. His fingers hover centimeters above her shoulder. She knows he is posturing, a puffed-up rooster making up for a wounded ego, but also knows that he could make do on his threat with one easy snap of his wrist, and so she takes a long drag of her cigarette, blows out the smoke (politely, away from him), and says,
"I should forewarn you that if any harm comes to me or I do not return home by evening, the location of your son, Fushiguro Megumi, will be transmitted directly to the Zen'in Clan."
The hand at her shoulder stiffens. She continues.
"You will, of course, receive none of the ten billion yen that the Zen'in clan promised you. The price will be paid instead to the Gojou family, because apparently," her lips twitch, "they own me now."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"It doesn't suit you to play dumb, Fushiguro-san. I found your son. My Technique allows me to track where he is," she says, "no matter where he moves. Which means at any moment, I can tell the Zen'in family where he is, they will pick him up, and you will be out ten billion yen."
Toji scowls. "How did you find out about this?"
"I overheard Zen'in Naoya and Naobito talking about you and your son. Seems like they're looking for him, and once they have him, they'll off you too. It took some time, but I tracked down all the children named Fushiguro in Saitama. Only a few have stepsisters."
The mention of Megumi's sister convinces Toji that she is not bluffing. After a pause, Toji withdraws his hand. "I didn't even say anything, hummingbird. Coming out here with all your threats."
"I just wanted to be upfront," she says, taking another drag, still looking away from him. "I'm not in shape to be running like I was at the end of our last meeting. How are you otherwise, Fushiguro-san?"
He rubs his chest, the black fabric under which there is certainly a scar. "Don't I look pretty good for a man stabbed in the heart not too long ago?"
Yuna examines his tan, robust complexion, the muscles bulging out of his T-shirt, the scar cutting through his lips that curl in a smirk. She, as always, is honest. "Yes."
He grins. "You don't look too bad yourself, after what I heard the Higher-Ups put you through."
"I suppose I should thank you for that. It was quite petty of you to send the police report to the schools."
"Hey, I was mad. You left me to die."
"You sliced my face open."
"Wouldn't have killed you." He leans close, forcing himself into her line of vision. "Not one to scar, eh?"
"I have the fortune of having access to a Reverse Cursed Technique User."
"Ah, what a privilege." He glances at her eye. "Blind, though?"
She stares at the scar at the corner of his mouth. "Half."
He chuckles and leans away. "Can't say I'm sorry, not after the way you left me in that alley."
"I don't think I need to justify what I did."
"Wasn't askin' you to, but you can't expect me to be happy about it. You left me unable to breathe and with a knife stuck in my heart. How dumb are you to call me here?"
A stranger listening in would think that the two of them had just suffered a horrific break-up. It almost makes Yuna laugh.
"I took your lesson to heart and did my research properly this time. I'm now worth…" She racks her brain for the most recent value, "two billion dead, five alive, last I checked. Paid by the order of a whole host of powerful people."
"That's a lotta money."
"Only a fraction of your son," she reminds him, "so best not get too excited and forget your investment."
Toji snorts, but he does not radiate impending death the way he had at their first meeting. "Fine, not gonna kill you. What do you want?"
"I want to make a deal with you."
"Huh?"
"I imagine many bounty hunters are interested in me. I don't want to spend every mission looking over my shoulder, worried a Curse User is lurking in the shadows. You know the Black Market well and how to track down hunters who may be interested. I want your protection."
"Why the fuck would I do that?"
"Don't you want to be paid for your son?"
"I could just hand him over now, just be done with it if he's going to be a weakness like this for me."
"You could," she admits. "Something tells me you won't. Not quite yet."
She has a feeling that Megumi is worth something beyond ten billion yen, and that Toji may be one of the world's worst fathers, but he is still a father.
"Fushiguro-san, there is no love lost between me and the Three Great Families," she says, turning her body so that she is fully facing him. "I am not going out of my way to ruin Megumi-kun's childhood by handing him over to Zen'in dogs. I, like you, am merely trying to survive."
"Don't try and compare us," he snarls. "We are not the same."
She has tripped a live wire. Yuna feels it too, the weight of their ironies: a nobody who has become a Cursed Object suddenly coveted by the Great Families, and a man who, despite being the strongest member born into the Zen'in clan in decades, cast away for technicalities. She understands, too, the offense he feels by their comparison, when he could kill her without breaking a sweat. The values the jujutsu world has bestowed upon them seem so arbitrary.
"I want to make a deal. As long as you protect me from the Bounty Hunters, I will hide your son from the Zen'in clan until you are ready. I can prevent your son and his sister from being found by other jujutsu sorcerers."
"How?"
"I'm responsible for many of the barriers surrounding Jujutsu High. I'm a decent spellcaster, all things considered."
"And if I refuse?"
She blinks slowly. "I'll tell Zen'in Naoya where Megumi-kun is, and he will probably kill Megumi-kun before he reaches middle school."
Yuna doesn't miss the flash of fury that lights Toji's eyes—that's not the light of someone who doesn't care a modicum about his son's wellbeing. She'd guessed correctly.
"I dunno why I'm surprised. Your face really doesn't match your personality, hummingbird."
"I'm sorry to disappoint."
Toji thinks in silence, and she lets him. She lights another cigarette, remembers her manners half way through and offers him a stick, to which he shakes his head. Despite that their conversation would be considered coercive, she doesn't feel the hostility that she'd expected. Perhaps stabbing him in the heart had earned her some degree of respect. The thought is laughable.
"What would be the terms of the deal?" he finally asks.
"You will not harm me or engage in any plans to harm me. You will actively protect me from Curse Users and Bounty Hunters," she says. "I will actively hide and protect your son from the Zen'in clan and any other jujutsu sorcerers you don't want to find him. As long as I live, your son will be safe."
"And if you die? Through no fault of my own?"
She blinks. "Sorry about Megumi-kun, then."
"Has anyone told you how much of a bitch you are?"
"Yes."
Toji barks a laugh. His arm extends back out behind her shoulders, and Yuna tenses.
"Relax," he says coolly. "I told you, I'm not gonna kill you today. You made sure of that."
She nods.
"Can you make your heart stop hammerin' like that? It's exhausting listening to it."
"I apologize. It's beyond my control."
Toji lets out a breath. "Fine. We're doin' a binding vow?"
She glances at him. "I wasn't sure if it would work with you, given your Heavenly Restriction. I don't know if another binding vow on top of it would last."
"No idea. Let's try." He brings his wrist up to his mouth and bites, hard.
"Fushiguro-san!"
He winces and draws his mouth away. Blood smears his teeth and trickles out of the marks he's left on his own wrist. He looks more animal than man, the way he moves, the way he acts. Without thinking, Yuna grabs a handkerchief from her purse and presses it tightly to his wrist, where the blood soaks through the peony pattern.
"I was just going to trust your word, Fushiguro-san."
"That's what dumbasses do. Lesson two for the jujutsu underworld. Trust nothing except in writing and blood, hummingbird."
"You don't even know if this is going to work."
He grins, and Yuna is reminded of a feral wolf in sight of fresh flesh. "Maybe not for me. Best case scenario is you cast a binding vow on your own, and I get out scot-free. Your turn."
Yuna purses her lips together but pulls a small dagger out of her bag. Much less dramatically, she cuts along the crease of her palm and pushes her hand against Toji's wound. His blood flows at an alarming rate. Yuna clamps down tightly, trying to clot it off.
"I, Fushiguro Toji, swear this binding vow that I will not harm…" He squints at her, waiting for something, and when Yuna realizes what it is, she wants to slap him.
"Morimoto Yuna," she offers, tone betraying none of her irritation.
"Morimoto Yuna, and will not engage in any plans to harm her without her consent. I will protect her from Curse Users and Bounty Hunters in the jujutsu underworld who pursue her life for her bounty."
Yuna's palm sears with a burn so severe she almost withdraws, but Toji grabs her wrist with his other hand and forces her in place as whatever this is—it's not Cursed Energy, it's something hollower than that—licks under every cell, exactly like her Miracle burning. It takes every bit of willpower to not scream, because that would be a waste of precious breath. Her vision spins and she feels her own Cursed Energy flailing inside her, fighting against what is a semblance of Toji's Heavenly Restriction negating all that it touches.
"Your turn," she hears him murmur, "hummingbird."
"I, Morimoto Yuna," she manages to gasp, "swear this binding vow that I will hide Fushiguro Megumi from the Zen'in clan for as long as Fushiguro Toji maintains his vow." The pain is so severe she thinks her hand will burn off, or she will faint. Toji brings a large hand to the small of her back to steady her. "Witnessed by our gods."
"Bound by our words and our blood," he finishes.
The fire fades slowly, and Yuna blinks tears from her eyes. She is gulping for air, her vision has temporarily gone white, and she only realizes she's shaking violently when Toji puts both hands on her waist to hold her still. His hands are large, warm, grounding when Yuna's mind has ascended somewhere else, reminding her of the body she should return to. When her vision returns, she finds Toji looking at her with an expression of mixed boredom and displeasure.
"Bad for you, huh?"
"Did you not," her words come out stuttered, "feel anything?"
"A nudge of something orange, if that doesn't sound insane. Felt like you."
"Is this what you feel like constantly?" She brushes aside her tears but they don't stop flowing, even though the pain is slowly subsiding.
"Like what?"
She shakes her head, overwhelmed by something terrible and empty that erupts inside her, a gnawing ache and sorrow she has never experienced before. Her forehead lands on Toji's chest as she struggles to regain her composure, but she cannot stop crying. It's as if something has found the edges of her soul and ripped it in two, and her body cannot stand trying to stitch together the halves when there is no salve to mend the wound. She does not know, does not understand, is just consumed with the constancy of rejection, negativity in Infinite, but it cannot manifest as Cursed Energy because Toji has none, and so it instead burrows deeply into her soul, nails to a cross, sealed.
"You really got the short end of the stick, huh." He pats her awkwardly on the head. "You done yet?"
She's not, but she has to be. Yuna straightens up, dabs her eyes with her sleeves carefully, dismayed when her sleeves stain with the black of her mascara. She scoots out of Toji's reach and sits forward, her hands clenched in her lap, her eyes closed as she regains control of herself, her breath, her body. The hollowness recedes, or perhaps it evolves into something more familiar, a heavy stone that sits at the base of her belly, a ceaseless weight that can be ignored but never forgotten.
"I apologize," she says when she finds her voice again. "That was unexpected."
"Sure seems like it." His gaze lingers. "Maybe you shouldn't make binding vows so casually."
"I do not treat any interaction with you as casual, Fushiguro-san."
"Should I be honored? Is this something serious?"
She can't believe he has the ability to joke, but she lets out a wobbly laugh. Her hand is clenched into a fist, stopping the blood from weeping out of the cut. Toji's wrist, on the other hand, is still trickling freely; she wonders if he actually tore a blood vessel, and why he doesn't care. She reaches for his arm, he allows it, and she wraps her handkerchief around the wrist, tying the ends tightly in a neat bow.
"You should get this checked out," she says, voice low, fingers pressed against his wound where she can feel the warmth of his blood stain her hand. "It's bleeding too much. You could get infected."
"I can take care of myself. Can't say you inspire confidence, hummingbird. You make it too easy for someone to kill you when you're cryin' like that."
"Fushiguro-san, I haven't cried since I was ten," she's almost defensive. "What happened just now…"
Her voice trails off. I think that was you.
He shrugs. "Whatever the reason, I just swore a binding vow that's contingent on your survival. It sucks you're so weak."
"I almost killed you."
Toji waves the hand Yuna isn't holding. "Only because I wasn't trying to kill you. And because of your stupid Domain. I underestimated that."
"Most people do."
"It ain't enough. You gotta get stronger."
"You could teach me how," she says, mind still fuzzy and disinhibited.
He arches an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"No," she backtracks. "It was a slip of tongue."
He thinks for a bit, then gestures for her to give him something. "Your phone."
"What?"
"I'll give you my number. I'm not doing it for free. You're gonna pay me. And those seals around my kid better be better than the seals you put around your shitty school."
"You must be joking, Fushiguro-san."
He reaches over with his free hand and rudely fishes her phone out of her purse. He flips it open and dials in his number. "This is the second time you've arranged to meet with me. It'll be easier than you sending me some cryptic message over some underworld website."
Toji hands her phone back to her, and Yuna stares at her phone dumbly. He saved his name as, "Reason You're Blind" and had texted himself with one word: "Hummingbird."
"I'm only half blind," she says, but doesn't correct it in her phone.
"You're lucky I didn't get both. We done here? Longest meeting I've ever had that didn't end in sex or cash."
"We're done," she agrees. She checks his wound, where the blood flow has slowed down, and re-ties the handkerchief over it. She stands up and extends out a hand. He smirks but takes it, and they shake. Yuna's gaze lingers on his mouth, caked in dry blood. The scar that cuts through his lips has a pearly sheen in the gray light. It is an obvious defect amidst a flawless canvas, but it suits him. She wonders where he got it from, and when, if it was made by human hands, a sibling or cousin who got the best of him.
Without thinking, she reaches for the scar, and Toji grabs her wrist, stopping her before her fingertips touch him.
He arches an eyebrow. "Hummingbird, I'm married."
She flushes. "No, that's not what I—"
"Just kidding," he smirks. "Divorced, really. You're still a little young for me, but I'm flattered."
"No, I wasn't," she swallows down her embarrassment, folds her hands behind her, punishing them for acting without her permission, and bows. "I apologize." She scrambles to find another topic. "I was merely thinking…should something happen, and the terms of our deals are invalidated, I will send Megumi-kun to the Zen'in head directly. I won't let Zen'in Naoya be involved."
"That wasn't what you said before. Why?"
She takes a long time to answer, and, given what she has done, feels hypocritical when the words fall from her lips. "I don't think children should be killed for sins of their fathers. Or for things that aren't sins at all."
"You just won't kill kids. Or send them to their deaths."
"You would?"
"Jujutsu underworld lesson three. There's no room for morals. You start drawing lines, you'll never stop, and soon you won't have any place you can move without crossing your lines. Meanwhile, other people will trample all over your lines to kill you."
"You'd…" She doesn't know why she feels so stunned. "You'd kill children?"
He shrugs. "Would cost more, but yeah."
"Fushiguro-san."
"Don't do that, hummingbird." He straightens up and towers over her, his face twisted in a grin, leering with a sadistic pleasure knowing that he has defied her expectations. "You'll only disappoint yourself. You're the one who just made a binding vow with a monkey."
"Of course." She schools her expression back to normal. "And monkeys don't know mercy."
"Fast learner."
"Goodbye, Fushiguro-san."
He salutes her mockingly. The peonies are soaked through with his blood. "Bye, hummingbird."
Months later, Fushiguro Toji dies after murdering an innocent girl. He dies at the hand of a child, a monster gone mad, a god at the cusp of nirvana.
The world moves on as it always does, rotating on its cold axis, and Yuna does not allow herself to think, just for a moment, how differently things would have turned—for Suguru, for Satoru, for the rest of the jujutsu world—if it had extended just the slightest bit of mercy to Toji. Yuna tells no one of the vow she swore with a monkey that could not learn what it had never been taught.