chapter 5: what we all don't know

in which suguru plans and kento and yuna are most compatible
(but that is not enough)

cw: a whole lot of toxic relationships, unresolved trauma, mild sexual content with uncomfortable consent/power dynamics

The Time Vessel Association is many things: fraudulent, cultish, dangerous, but above all, incredibly wealthy. It had been a divine kind of retribution for Suguru to take over the organization that had commissioned the monkey Zen'in Toji to kill Amanai Riko; he'd executed the leaders and forced the others into submission, chained at his feet where they belonged. Under his guidance, the Association had blossomed into a respectable institution: a profitable scam of monkeys, but an easy way for Suguru to build his repertoire of curses, while being the headquarters to the most talented Curse Users from across the globe.

One such Curse User wakes Suguru up from his mid-day nap with the cool tap of a spiral notepad on his forehead.

"Getou-sama."

Suguru groans, even though Manami's voice is soothing as cool water in fever. His bedroom, housed on the topmost floor of the Time Vessel's main temple, is austere but serene, with a king-sized mattress on a bamboo frame set low to the ground and unassuming peace lilies nestled against the high windows. He has no decorations save for scrolls of landscapes and very old jujutsu incantations hanging on the walls that serve as Curtain anchors on their own. Incense wafts through the temple, but Suguru surprisingly hates the smell and combats it in his room with a lavender electric plug-in diffuser that the twins had bought him online.

Despite the lavender, Suguru had slept poorly for the last several nights. He needs to remind himself that even though Satoru still remains a high-functioning insomniac, Suguru really does need eight hours a night to function properly. The alarm set off at Jujutsu High the day prior had worried Suguru that the Higher-Ups would decide to exorcise Orimoto Rika after all, but he should have known better. The only people who can truly exorcise Rika are Satoru and himself, and Satoru will not touch Rika. He loves disruption too much, loves anything and anyone that upsets the traditionalists. The Ten Shadows boy, not named Zen'in. Each of his students, hand-picked. Even Yuna, so many years later, still rankles the Higher-Ups—a Curse Object with free will, allowed to roam the world as she sees fit. It is why, even though he hates it so much, Satoru does not push for Yuna to return.

(This is not counting that one episode five years ago, when Satoru had unilaterally declared her to be his betrothed, throwing his family and all the Higher-Ups in a tizzy at the prospect of the once-in-a-millennia Gojou heir marrying a Cursed Object who, prior to her Object status, had also been charged with multiple counts of homicide.)

This new Special Grade, Okkotsu Yuuta, is unremarkable save for the stellar curse he harbors against his own will. Suguru cannot wait to relieve him of the burden; after Orimoto Rika is under his control, he will no longer have to rely on monkeys for their pathetic Low-Grade Curses. Until then, though…

"The next monkey couple is in the lobby."

If Suguru were interested in women, he imagines Suda Manami would be his type. Tall, calm, with dainty features but a sharp nose and soft eyes that feel false in the face of her ferocity, Manami had found her way to Suguru's family shortly after Suguru had defected from Jujutsu High. She comes from a family of rudimentary self-taught shamans in Hokkaido but is quite tight-lipped about what exactly had caused her to turn Curse User—Suguru surmises there was some bloody deal with yakuza that had gone awry. Since joining him, she has been Suguru's right-hand lieutenant and the twins' surrogate older sister. The financial success of the Time Vessel Association is largely credited to Manami's clerical business acumen.

"Don't want to." Suguru rolls over in his mattress and buries his head in the pillows.

"Were you up all night texting again?" Manami's voice is bland. Only she and the twins know about Satoru, or at least the extent to which they communicate. "You really want to keep that up when we're going to war in December?"

"You don't need to lecture me," he groans. "I know already. But I had purpose yesterday! I needed to make sure he wasn't going to exorcise Rika."

She sighs. "Getou-sama. I'm only saying it to protect you. This…whatever has been going on all these years, December is going to change all that. You're going to get hurt."

He doesn't answer immediately, pouting and feeling like Satoru when he does.

"What do you even talk about all night," says Manami acidly. "Threats and declarations of war can't last hours."

"We talk about other stuff too," he grumbles. "I always wanna know what that Ten Shadows kid is up to. What Satoru is doing to fuck up the Three Great Families. It's not all jujutsu shit. I give him restaurant recommendations."

"Charming," she says, obviously uncharmed.

Suguru sits up. The sour taste of stomach acid floods his mouth. He'd ingested too many curses the day before, and they don't sit well with him, miniature teeth that gnaw on his stomach lining. Knowingly, Manami passes him a thermos of tea and a plate with differently shaped cookies, slightly burnt at the base.

"The twins made cookies," she explains, even though Suguru had guessed. There's no way that Manami herself would ever make something less than perfect.

"Thanks." He unscrews the thermos and drinks carefully. "I'm being careful with Satoru, don't worry."

She arches an eyebrow. "Then will you finally block him?"

Suguru chews the inside of his cheek. "I can get good information—"

"Getou-sama."

"I'll think about it," he relents. Who knows if Satoru will even keep texting him at this rate. Manami has long said there are lines that surely Gojou Satoru will not tolerate crossed. Suguru has still not found them yet, though not for lack of trying. "Did you tell Miguel to figure out that stuff with the luggage in Los Angeles?"

Manami nods. "He said he'll check with his cousin. Seems like a lot to do for an old teacher, Getou-sama."

"Ah, yeah, well, it doesn't hurt to be in her good graces," he remarks, as if Yuna had not made her fondness for monkeys clear when she'd pushed Satoru to accept the Zen'in monkey under his wing. "Tell Miguel thanks for me. This is the Ogawa couple I asked you to look into, right?"

Manami passes him a folder and Suguru flips through its contents, familiarizing himself with the request. He usually does not do this for each monkey—there's not much finesse typically required in standard meetings, but he had sought this couple out himself.

"Yes. Hiromo Sana and his wife, Hiromo Youko. Washi makers." Manami looks at him curiously. "I wasn't aware washi making was a lucrative field. Will they be able to afford your services?"

"Think of it as a charity case." He climbs out of bed and slips into his house shoes. "If this is the right couple, it will be much more profitable for me than all the money in their bank accounts."

"How? If they're not here to give you a curse or money, what use do these monkeys have?"

"That's the trick, my dear Manami," Suguru smiles. "There's a good chance they might not be normal monkeys after all."

"How would you know?"

"Because," he slides on his kasaya and fixes his hair, "their daughter isn't."

It is even colder the next day, cloudy, with a wind armed with knives. The sun retreats and the sky is drab and overcast. Even if she had not lost her luggage, Yuna would not have clothing appropriately warm for fieldwork. Despite knowing this, she makes little fuss about being assigned to scope out Shinjuku. Her Barriers are most effective when she has time to plan and prepare beforehand. Yuna has already lost a day in this planning, having found it reasonable to take the prior day off to recover from jet lag and also from a severe injury by a Special Grade Curse. When she and Satoru had finally made it to dinner later in the evening, timed to meet up with Megumi, Yuuta had found them in the cafeteria and apologized with a full kowtow. It had tickled Satoru and deeply confused Megumi, whom Yuna had wanted to avoid telling the Rika Incident, but it was a secret difficult to hide when Yuuta was banging his forehead on the floor so hard he nearly drew blood. It had taken Yuna several minutes to convince him to stand back up, reassuring him that she was as good as new, and convincing herself that indeed, he would have been her favorite Special Grade.

Satoru does not ask to stay with her that night, and Yuna does not offer. She sleeps fitfully, dreams permeated by a room only a few tatami mats wide, blood splattering the shoji, shadows dancing like demons in candlelight. When her alarm rings, she feels as if she had not slept at all. She nonetheless climbs out of bed and dresses in the dark, having already planned to go with Megumi on a gentle jog around the campus, followed by a light breakfast before he goes to school. Most of their time is silent, as Megumi has only grown more withdrawn over the years, and Yuna has never been particularly skilled at small talk. Moments are uncomfortable, and she worries that asking to join Megumi on his run is forcing him to spend time with her that he does not want to spend.

Running has never been her forte. The air is sharp with each inhalation. The gravel crunches beneath each step of the too-small tennis shoes she'd borrowed from Shouko. Despite that they have been running for nearly half an hour, Yuna still is not warm; admittedly, Shouko's running gear is years old and terribly thin because "Physical exertion is not part of my contract anymore, Yuna-san." Her mind wanders as she tries to focus on something other than the cold and the silence; she imagines the map of Shinjuku in her mind, the route that she and Kento will take today to trace out optimal Curtain anchors, reminds herself to keep an eye out for CCTV cameras so Suguru's contacts in the police cannot alert him, then wonders if Ichiji or Yaga has contacts to preemptively avoid Suguru's spies.

She wonders why Suguru, who knows that Yuna's Technique works best when she is given time to prepare, would willingly announce the day of his intended genocide over a month in advance. She wonders if giving her this advantage is purposeful, as if to help her prove her worth to the Jujutsu Higher-Ups, then realizes she should not think of Suguru so kindly when he had tried to prevent her from coming back in the first place. She wonders if Shouko is wrong, and Suguru actually knows the truth about her child after all, and he is just waiting until the right moment to reveal it.

"Yuna-san."

Yuna startles out of her thoughts, realizing that she has run past Megumi, who is stopped several meters behind her. The barest concern traces his features as she jogs back toward him with a quick apology. They head back to the cafeteria together. Sunlight barely breaks through the clouds, cool glimpses of lightening blue, and the scent of freshly steamed rice intensifies as they get closer.

"Is everything okay?" Megumi asks. "You—is it your head?"

"I am fine. I was just thinking."

Megumi nods. "I can skip school today. I can come with you and Nanami-san for the anchor and Curtain work."

"No." The word comes out quicker and sharper than she means for it to be. "You need to go to school."

He scowls. "Why? So I can concentrate on calculus while Getou Suguru plans on killing everyone in Shinjuku?"

"The adults will handle it, Megumi-kun. All the students are to continue with their days as normal."

"That's not true. The announcement from the Higher-Ups said all sorcerers Grade Two and above will be deployed. Inumaki-senpai and Panda-senpai were told to be on standby."

"I've asked Gojou-kun to push for an exemption. Students should be excluded from that rule."

Megumi snorts. "Gojou believes in 'hands-on learning experiences.' No way will he exempt them."

"This is not a casual mission." They enter the cafeteria, the first ones to arrive for breakfast, as the Jujutsu High students typically train in the morning first before their lessons. "The Great Families will offer their own retainers to fight. I would like to avoid student involvement as much as possible."

Megumi is quiet as they get their food: a bowl of miso, steaming rice, sliced pickles, salted salmon. It is Yuna's favorite type of breakfast. She waits as Megumi says his blessings before they both dig in.

"I'm gonna be promoted soon, I think." He chews thoughtfully. "Gojou thinks I'll be Grade Two before I start next year. If Inumaki-senpai and Panda-senpai are fighting—"

"No," Yuna says sharply into her pickles. "On December twenty-third, you will go to the safehouse in Edogawa and stay there until the coast is clear."

"Yuna-san."

"I said no."

Megumi is visibly irritated. "I'm not a child anymore, Yuna-san. You don't need to hide me away like before."

"You are in middle school, you are most definitely still a child. The rest of the jujutsu world is not so pathetic that we should rely on fourteen-year-olds to fight."

"I'll be fifteen next month."

"I said no, Megumi-kun. We do not know what Getou-kun's ultimate goal is—if he is after you in the end, then we cannot risk you on the battlefield."

"That would make no sense—he knows I'd never fight for him."

"I said no."

"Yuna-san," says Megumi through gritted teeth, "you aren't a teacher here. You're not even my guardian anymore. This isn't your choice."

The pickle is too sour, the salmon too salty. Megumi's eyes are cold, the polished depths of the deep sea, when she meets them. She forgets how fast time passes, how Megumi has gone from surly child to surly teenager in a blink of an eye—or, it was not a simple blink, but rather Yuna had chosen to close her eyes and look away entirely.

She swallows down her rice, grains of steel cutting down her throat. "I see."

Megumi looks nearly apologetic suddenly, and his arm spasms as if he will reach out to comfort her, but doesn't. "I…I didn't mean anything specific by it. I just want to be helpful."

"Ask Gojou-kun then," she says, finishing the rest of her miso soup in one gulp and standing up with her tray. "You'll need his permission."

"Yuna-san—"

"Have a good day at school, Megumi-kun." She turns away. "I'll see you when I get back."

She returns to her tray to the kitchens, bows to the cooks, and leaves.

If there is one thing Kento misses in the non-sorcerer finance world, it is the universal respect for time. Time is money, and money is all, and so the most egregious thing one can do to a fellow human being—save for rob them blind—is to waste their time.

Unfortunately, no one in the jujutsu world holds similar respect for time. It's too common for last-minute exorcisms to occur on the way to an appointment, and admittedly the pressures of jujutsu sorcery and the life-or-death circumstances shamans face daily force punctuality lower in their priorities. Still, Kento deeply hates wasting time and has adopted the bad habit of smoking to compensate for idleness.

It is therefore to his great surprise when Yuna approaches him at the Seibu-Shinjuku Station just as he lights his first cigarette. In retrospect, Kento should have known better; the times they met abroad, Yuna has always been punctual.

"Sorry, Yuna-san," he bows quickly and makes a movement to stamp out the cigarette, but she shakes her head.

"Please, I don't mind it." She eyes the glowing stick wistfully. "I miss it, sometimes."

"Ah, you used to…"

"I stopped several years ago." She hums. "Gojou-kun doesn't like the smell."

Satoru disliking something has never discouraged Kento to pursue said activity, but he doesn't say this aloud. He also does not comment that Satoru does not see Yuna for months at a time and therefore should have very little bearing on Yuna's daily activities, but long has he decided that this inconsistency is a headache not worth pursuing.

"It is probably best for your health," settles Kento diplomatically. "Shouko-san has also stopped. I am trying my best."

"I'm sure you will be able to soon, Nanami-kun. You are the most diligent of all of us." Yuna tucks her hands into her coat, a threadbare, gray puffer jacket that is asymmetrically deflated at the sleeves. Goose feathers bleed out the seams. "Yaga-sensei says Mei-san is scoping out the west side near the government offices and the university, and Kusakabe-kun will take the residential areas. I believe you were assigned to Kabukichou because you are the most diligent."

"That is kind of you, Yuna-san, but I was assigned here likely because I am familiar with the area," he says distastefully. "Many nights of a salaryman are spent here, searching for ways to empty our pockets and fill our souls."

"That is both equally poetic and gloomy," Yuna says. "You do not enjoy the entertainment district then?"

He fixes her with a look, and Yuna laughs quietly.

"You would make someone a happy wife, Nanami-kun. No one else is so convincingly displeased with the prospect of alcohol and lovely women."

"That sounds terribly tiresome." He does not point out that admittedly, Gojou Satoru would also be displeased with said prospect, and no one sane would say that he could make any woman a happy wife.

Kento finishes his cigarette and they head out toward the red gate marking the entrance to Kabukichou. It is still crowded during the day, with hassled shoppers and idling restauranters, though Kento knows it hosts only a fraction of its nighttime visitors. He parts the way for Yuna, his height and apparent foreignness lending themselves to slightly more space than normal, and she follows closely and easily, as if she is used to being in someone else's shadow.

"We expect Getou's attack to be worst here," remarks Nanami. "He said it will be at nighttime, and it will be hard to clear this area out when activity is at its highest."

"Yes." Yuna peers around and draws her bag closer to her torso. Even in the overcast daytime, the lights and neon signs are bright and blaring, but Yuna moves through the noise comfortably. She must be used to it now, having lived in different metropolitan areas across the world where the chatter of city life requires no translation. "It is why Yaga-sensei asked me to come here first. I will need to start laying down preliminary Barriers today so they can be reinforced over the next few weeks."

"It is a lot of work for you."

She shakes her head. "I am not as useful during the fight itself, and Getou-kun knows my style. I worry he will be able to pick apart the Barriers right as I set them down."

"If that draws away his fighting power and time from his preparation, that is still useful."

"That is very kind of you." She sniffles and brushes her nose. The temperature is chilly today, and Kento does not think Yuna's coat, which looks far too old to still be in use, is enough. He shrugs off his scarf and wraps it around Yuna's neck as they wait at a stoplight after Yuna surreptitiously sticks a piece of washi underneath a pedestrian sign.

"Ah, that's not necessary—"

"I'm very warm. I insist."

In truth, Kento finds Yuna's green hair alarming and quite unsuited to her face, especially when she softens and smiles and says sincere things like,

"You seriously will make someone a very happy wife one day, Nanami-kun. Thank you."

Kento just grunts, and it makes Yuna smile wider. If Kento did not wholeheartedly believe in Yuna's goodness, he would think she derived joy from teasing him. It feels dangerous to discuss the matters of marriage and commitment with Yuna, the levity of flirting displaced by the baggage that is Gojou Satoru associated with her. It is neither's fault—years later, Kento now understands the extenuating circumstances leading to Yuna's Object status—but he (and really all other sorcerers except for Tsukumo Yuki) know to steer clear of the border Satoru has marked around Yuna, like a wolf pissing to sign its territory.

"I meant to tell you. Gojou-kun did try to take us to an Italian restaurant you recommended. We didn't end up going because Megumi-kun found the atmosphere awkward, but if that is where you take your dates, Nanami-kun, they are very lucky."

"An Italian place?"

"Yes. In Kagurazaka, I believe."

Kento frowns. "It must not have come from me. It is not my favorite cuisine. I rarely go."

"Ah." Yuna's smile fades as she thinks. "My mistake. It's Gojou-kun's favorite type of food."

"I see. I wasn't aware."

Yuna is quiet for a moment. "He must've gotten the recommendation from someone else, then."

"Yes, likely. Maybe from a food blog or something. He's always yammering on about things he reads on the Internet."

Yuna hums, but her expression has lost its joviality, as if she has realized something Kento has not.

"Is everything all right, Yuna-san?"

"Yes." She thinks. "No. Getou-kun has declared war, after all."

"I think he did that ten years ago, sensei. Not much has fundamentally changed."

"No." For a moment, in the gray light, Kento thinks he glimpses anger on her face, but he blinks and her expression is smooth and her eyes are large and sad. "This time I think it's different."

From: Dickhead

[17:44] You ever go to Ogawa?

[18:13] Wrong person, jackass.

[18:14] No, it's not, asshole. I'm asking you.

[18:18] Why would I ever go there.

[18:20] Sensei's from there.

[18:22] OK? Your point?

[18:23] Damn, you are so hostile.
[18:24] What, she didn't like the restaurant I recommended?

[18:24] We didn't even go
[18:24] what's your point, dickhead.

[18:25] Really? You would've liked it.
[18:26] I don't have a point. Was just following up on our convo yesterday
[18:26] Was meeting this couple from Ogawa, remember?

[18:28] What are you getting at?
[18:28] What are we even doing
[18:28] You want to blow up two major cities in 3 weeks Suguru
[18:29] Why are we still talking like this

[18:30] I dunno. There's no one else to talk to.

[18:35] I think Kamo Noritoshi might've been onto something

[18:35] The FUCK

[18:36] Or the wannabe. Kamo Hiroto.

[18:36] What the fuck are you talking about

[18:36] Monkey parents.
[18:36] Monkey daughter
[18:37] except not anymore.

[18:40] What are you talking about Suguru

[18:47] I found sensei's parents.
[18:47] You think she'll wanna meet them?

Barrier work takes longer than either Yuna or Kento anticipate, despite Kento being ruthlessly efficient. As night falls early, the red-light district gets busier with patrons and employees alike, making it even harder for Yuna to secretly deploy talismans. Kento's Cursed Energy flares like a campfire doused in gasoline, unbound by its contract of overtime, but he is a master sorcerer and leaves very few Residuals behind. He keeps watch as Yuna skirts off into deserted alleyways or down an unmarked basement, leaving traces of her blood and Cursed Energy littered through the district in a circular pattern that she will hopefully be able to activate from one point at the circle's epicenter. The work is slow and arduous, and though many talismans are prepared beforehand, the deposition of each one feels like siphoning off a pinprick of blood each time. By the time her bag is empty of loose washi, Yuna's head is throbbing and her Cursed Energy drained.

Kento checks his watch. "Do you want to get dinner, Yuna-san? Or head back to the School to rest?"

Yuna is admittedly hungry but does not think she can stand to be vigilant in a densely crowded area for a second longer. "The School would be best, I think."

Kento nods in understanding. "Would you like me to pick up a snack to eat on the way back?"

"No. I'll be okay. Thank you."

They turn around to head toward the station, peeling through the crowds of heavily made-up women, drunk men, the blares of some old-school ballad crooning from the entrance of a love hotel. Kento determinedly steers Yuna away from the establishment, his arm resting on her lower back, giving the hotel's advertisers even more ammunition to animatedly recruit them toward their services.

Yuna feels very lucky. Midway through the day, Kento had stopped by a luxury clothing store and bought Yuna a heavy, beautiful light gray wool coat, citing that he could not tolerate watching her lips turn blue right in front of him for much longer. Despite her protests, he had paid for the coat, and had politely shut down the option of her repaying him with the gentle but not condescending reminder that his Grade One salary was substantially higher than hers.

It has always the same each time she and Kento have met over the years. He would pay for dinner at whatever Michelin-star restaurant they dined at without ever making Yuna feel like she owed him something in return. ("You got me into college, sensei," he'd say dryly, even though nothing of the sort is true.)

Yuna does not know how Kento feels so much older than Satoru, but he does. It is probably why he commands so much respect from the students and why, after his return to jujutsu society three years ago, Megumi and Tsumiki had switched their second emergency contact from Yuna to Kento. (It should have been Shouko, but her erratic hours and habit of alcohol consumption during all times of day did not well predict her ability to show up to parent-teacher conferences.) It is not something Yuna begrudges Kento for—it makes sense, especially since Barcelona, she has returned to Japan less and less—but there are times Yuna misses things she does not even want or knows she is not owed, and Megumi's trust is one of them.

From: Fushiguro Megumi

[19:22] I'll be at Tsumiki's late today but can you text me when you're back on campus?
[19:23] I'm sorry for what I said this morning.

Yuna hovers over the keys to reply, but doesn't know what to say. There's nothing to be sorry for.

Fixed on her phone, she runs into Kento's back when he stops abruptly to let a horde of drunk, howling college boys pass.

"Sorry." She stows her phone away.

"Everything all right?"

"Yes." She bites her tongue. She is learning to be more honest, though it is easier with Kento than it is with someone else. "No. Megumi-kun wants to fight in the parade. I do not want him to. But I do not have the right to tell him no."

Kento scoffs. "Of course you do."

"He said," the words sound petty and whiny, "that I am not a teacher and no longer his guardian—"

"He is a fourteen-year-old and you are an adult," cuts in Kento. "All adults bear responsibility over children's safety. I am not his teacher and no one is that boy's guardian except for Gojou, yet I feel comfortable saying that."

"You make it sound very simple."

"That's because it is." Kento adjusts his glasses, glinting green in the overcast neon. "You taught me that."

Yuna laughs shortly. "What?"

"When we were students, you made that very clear." They cross the street, Kento's gloved hand encircling hers. "Gojou is an unorthodox and arguably a terrible teacher, but it is one lesson he learned from you. He pushes the students, but he does not allow the Higher-Ups to take away their childhood."

Yuna is quiet until they arrive at the subway station, thinking of all the ways she had let so many childhoods be ripped away during her short tenure. She thinks that makes sense, with what she did to her own child, or how she let Megumi and Tsumiki flounder for years before Satoru forced her to take them in.

"I do not think I did that for you."

"You tried."

"I do not think that was enough."

Her throat is tight. Suguru had been the best of them, and look at him now. Haibara has been dead for a decade now. Megumi is now nearly the same age. She thinks about her students, one a mass murderer, the other always teetering on the brink. Shouko would be in liver failure four times over, if it weren't for her Technique.

When, five years ago, Kento had visited Yuna in Barcelona and told her he was thinking of returning to jujutsu sorcery, she'd told him not to.

Choose something else. You have enough savings, you can be unemployed for a while. Travel. Live in Barcelona, Bali, like you've always wanted.

He had not listened, because Kento had lost his childhood too, and the jujutsu world is a drug injected to them without their knowledge or consent, the false promise of heroism exchanged for their heroes.

Kento is not affectionate or comforting. He merely squeezes her hand and lets go as they approach the station. Yuna digs in her bag for her wallet and subway card when right behind her, she feels pressure build in her ears and she feels Satoru's Cursed Energy before she even turns around.

"Gojou," says Kento, surprised.

"We're in a crowd, Gojou-kun," says Yuna, scanning the citizens to make sure no one noticed Satoru appear out of thin air. "You can't just—"

"Did you see Suguru today?" he interrupts.

He is dressed in that awful uniform again, a giant, miscast stagehand when everyone knows he should be the lead. She realizes that his blindfold is off and his Six Eyes are on full display, blazing and unsmiling. His Cursed Energy is a finely-honed razor, pointed and prepared to pierce skin.

"No. We didn't see even a suspicious Residual." She turns to Kento to confirm, who shakes his head in agreement. "Is something going on? Aren't you supposed to be in Kyoto with Utahime-san?"

Satoru turns something over in his head, clearly thinking, before he reaches out and loops an arm around Yuna's shoulder, pulling her away from Kento. "You can head back to the School or your place, Nanami. I'll take Yuna from here."

"Gojou, if something's going on—"

"Nothing's going on," Satoru cuts in. He sounds different, cold and irritated. "I'm just making sure of something."

Kento is unconvinced, but Yuna knows that dealing with Satoru when he is like this is easier when it is just them two alone. She pats Kento on the arm and bows her head at him.

"It's all right, Nanami-kun. Thank you for all your hard work today. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yes." He bows back. "Good work today, Yuna-san. Gojou, get her something to eat."

"Yeah, yeah," he waves his hand, relaxing now that he knows Yuna will not protest. "Thanks, Nanami."

Satoru does not even wait until Kento answers before his hold around Yuna tightens and she feels as if she is being folded like origami before it all unravels. She blinks, and the lights of the subway station and the noise of Shinjuku disappear, swallowed by silence and darkness, save for the twinkling lights of a crystal-clear Tokyo skyline outside floor-to-ceiling windows. The smell of cigarette smoke is replaced by just the faint whiff of Satoru's cologne and old takeout.

When her eyes adjust, she realizes she is in a modern, high-rise apartment, likely the penthouse, given the view and open floor plan. A large, beige sectional frames where she and Satoru stand, right behind an asymmetric coffee table. The walls are bare and the in-built shelves sparse, but at the opposite end of the room is a large flat-screen TV in front of a smaller sofa, bean-bag, and several video game consoles with their wires crossed like landlines. A door to her right is slightly ajar, yielding a glimpse of a bedroom with an unmade bed, and to her left is a kitchen with scattered bento boxes and unwashed dishes over the marble counter. Opposing the kitchen, on the other side of the wall the television is mounted on, is a four-person glass dining table where one can eat and enjoy the view.

She knew Satoru had a place in the city. (Shouko had mentioned it before, when she'd first referred to Satoru as a "fuckboy" and, after ten minutes of confusion, Yuna had stupidly texted back, "What is a fuckboy?") She has never been here. Yuna thinks this is the place Satoru goes to be something other than the Gojou heir, the Strongest Sorcerer, and whenever Yuna is back in Japan, Satoru is not afforded that luxury and therefore has never brought her here. It is much cleaner than she would have expected, much more normal, too, and she feels oddly happy seeing this space, as if she's been let into an exclusive lounge, even though Satoru has invaded her homes abroad so many times.

"Welcome," he murmurs, and only then does Yuna realize that his arms are now both around her waist and shoulders.

"Do you have Barriers around?" she asks. "This place is Hidden?"

"By the best of Gojou spellcasters," he laughs, a puff of wind above her head. "Nothing as good as your Barriers, but I don't need them to be." One hand wraps into the end of her scarf, pale blue, patterned, pristine. "This Nanami's?"

She looks down and realizes belatedly. "Oh, I forgot to return it." The label reads Hermes. "I'll give it back to him tomorrow."

Satoru unwinds it and tosses it on the table. "Or I can just burn it."

"It looks very expensive."

"I can afford it." He turns her around and pulls at the lapels of her coat. "He buy this for you too?"

"Gojou-kun—"

He leans down and kisses her as he tugs the coat off her shoulders. She nearly jolts—Satoru is freezing, which shouldn't be the case if he has had Infinity on all day. The coat shrugs to the ground and he pushes her on to the couch, sprawled sideways so he can crouch over her as he deepens the kiss. His touch slips underneath her sweater and tugs it above her navel. Yuna opens her mouth to protest but he simply slips his tongue in, cherry-cola. Satoru is touchy, crowding, borderline intrusive, but rarely does he feel like this: out-of-control and aggressive. He moves deftly, one hand sliding over her bare back to undo her bra while the other pulls her thigh out so he can settle comfortably between her legs, a practiced move, as if he's done it many times before.

Yuna knows better to pretend that this is unfamiliar territory for them. They do this sometimes, though usually it's after Yuna has alcohol in her system, and Satoru is eager but sweet and gentle. She always stops him early when he behaves otherwise, like this, kissing like he has a point to prove. He thinks it is because of the binding vow, that she will shy away from aggression like a startled deer.

Yuna knows herself better than that, because one does not love Fushiguro Toji and startle away from aggression. She knows Satoru better than that, too, because he acts like this—needy and angry and hungry—only when he is wounded.

She kisses him back but at the same time tries to slow him down, pushing at his arm. He stiffens at her response but ignores her otherwise, lips sliding down to her neck where he licks at the hummingbird fluttering right over her pulse. His hand slides to her front and cups her breast underneath her bra, and Yuna lets out a quiet, unwilling noise that only encourages Satoru more.

"What are you doing?" she whispers, knowing her voice will surely crack if she tries to speak louder.

"I'm jealous." He bites at her neck, not enough to be painful but just enough to surprise. Yuna's back arches off the sofa and she gasps. "You and Nanami have a good date today?"

She hits him in the center of his back. "Stop being cruel, Satoru."

"I'm trying to get you off, how is that being cruel?"

"This isn't the first day anymore."

"You're back forever now, there aren't gonna be anymore 'first days' so the rule doesn't apply."

She hits him again. "Stop."

"C'mon, Yuna, you like it—"

"Getou-kun told you about that Italian restaurant, didn't he?"

Satoru freezes, his breath hot against her collarbone, his palm still spread underneath her sweater. He can certainly feel her heartbeat racing at two points, but Yuna remains as still as a statue, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Satoru has warmed up now, and she wants to wrap herself in his heat, but when he looks at her, his eyes are icy and his jaw set.

"You're not jealous about Nanami-kun." She scoots upward, withdrawing from him and trying to sit up at the same time. "You're only like this when Getou-kun is involved. When he doesn't give you what you want."

"He hasn't given me what I wanted for a fucking decade," says Satoru coolly. "Kinda used to it."

"Yes," she says, struggling to fix her bra and look Satoru in the eye at the same time, "and you've let it out on me for a fucking decade."

"Sure," he scoffs, "as if you haven't just let this happen, as if you don't want it too."

"What I want doesn't matter when I know you do not want me. I am not here for you just because you are sad or angry or lonely."

"Want—" The word is nearly spat. "I've wanted you for so fucking long, I've told you that over and over and you never believe me."

"Okay," she says, cool, collected, because this is an argument that they have had over and over again, one that Yuna has never lost because she knows who Satoru is at his worst but he cannot say the same for her. "Then tell me Getou-kun and you haven't been talking today. That he didn't say something that confirmed to you that he isn't coming back to you. That you're not mad that Getou-kun asked me to go with him but not you."

Satoru is not a child anymore, but in his apartment, where the only light that streams in is from the moon and stars and skyline, he looks suddenly out of place—a space not meant for him, too normal, too trivial. This argument they're having, about ex-boyfriends and jealousy and wanting but not having, feels the same way. It runs deeper than Yuna presents, she knows it, but Satoru doesn't, and this feeble argument has never made sense to him because Satoru could offer her the world and Yuna would reject it because she could not offer herself back.

He stares at her, and because he is not a child anymore, he yields.

"You're never gonna tell me what you want from me, will you?" says Satoru quietly.

"I don't…" She swallows. "I don't think I know."

He leans forward, arm slipping underneath her sweater, touch clinical.

"I'll fix it," he mutters, clipping her bra back in place before he pulls her top neatly back down.

Satoru leans back, shifting away from her, and rests one arm over his eyes.

"What happened?" Yuna pulls off her shoes and curls her knees onto the cushion next to him.

"Nothing." But Satoru is learning to be more honest, too. "Something. With you."

Yuna looks to him sharply, heart racing, thinking about the secret Suguru may know. "What about me?"

"He might make a move for you."

"Why?"

"I dunno. Don't worry about it. I won't let 'im. He doesn't get to have you too." Satoru takes a deep breath and lets it out. He stretches out his other arm, beckoning. She shuffles closer, and he holds her to him, his heartbeat thudding against her back.

They sit like this, in silence, and Yuna is so tired she might fall asleep. When Satoru speaks again, his voice rumbles right by her ear, so quiet she might miss it if she dozed off.

"If he goes through with all this, I'm really going to have to kill him, won't I?"

She doesn't reply. Her fingers interlace his, and she watches the starlight shifting, and neither of them sleep.