chapter 6: what happened in spain

in which we find out what happened in spain and a lot of other things

cw: the relationships are unhealthy, for the millionth time, and all characters are flawed. you may love individual actions or conversations but no one or any relationship should be emulated.

mentions of infanticide, murder, unwilling marriage.

Barcelona, Spain. April 2013.

Satoru arrives in Barcelona, Spain, having not slept in two days. When his phone turns off airplane mode, it pauses for a minute as it reconnects with foreign cell towers, yielding sixty seconds of false hope. Maybe the flight deleted his number from everyone else's phones. Maybe while Satoru had been on the flight, Suguru had mounted a coup that murdered all of the Jujutsu Higher-Ups and there was no one left alive to bother him. Maybe over the duration of the flight, Yaga, his parents, and the Jujutsu Higher-Ups have ultimately changed their minds that Satoru's declaration—that he is engaged to Morimoto Yuna—is a reasonable one after all.

When the signal finally registers, the notifications cause his phone to spasm so violently, it flops like a fish out of water out of his hand.

He catches it midfall as he walks down the aisle. A nearby passenger laughs and gives him a, "Nice catch." Satoru flicks him off and ignores the offense he incurs, because his patience is razor-thin and he is eager for an excuse for violence. Instead, he strides off the airplane, an aluminum suitcase dragging behind him, as he scrolls through his phone. He glances over the texts from his parents and deletes their whole chat history. Yaga's texts range from disbelief ("This must be a joke") to cautionary ("Don't do anything stupid, Satoru") to outraged ("This is irresponsible, you're going get her killed!").

Shouko, finishing her last semester of medical school and far too busy to be dealing with Satoru's bullshit, sends him a single text: "You better have a plan."

He does. The moment he steps outside of the airport, the unexpected sunlight causes his vision to fracture into a million individual beams of different colors. Satoru curses and resists the urge to step back into airport to give himself time to adjust—as his Six Eyes have grown sharper, his sunglasses have become less and less effective, and on bright days, only a full blindfold can blunt the noise enough for Satoru to focus. Instead, without caring who's watching, he teleports up into the clear sky so he can get a better view of this city and sift for a spot of familiar marigold Cursed Energy amidst a sea of foreign.

When he was a child, Satoru did not have much interest in going abroad. Japan hosts the majority of curses and Cursed Energy in the world, and what use are gods to those who don't worship them? Other countries have their own sorcerers, though every sorcerer around the world knows the name Gojou Satoru and is appropriately terrified; Satoru has never felt the need to expand his already unwanted congregation.

Now, while hovering over the masses, he finds Barcelona surprisingly beautiful as the golden sunlight falls over a city of neat organization, red brick and slanted roofs, neighborhood squares cleanly bisected by shrubbery. There are blips of Cursed Energy all over, relatively few compared to the curses that roam through the city, though even the number of curses is less than he'd expect for a city of this size. They're concentrated mostly around the basilica scattered through the city, amorphous shadows clinging to the spirals, ugly malice visible only to the blessed.

Satoru ignores the curses and spins his suitcase aimlessly in empty air until he finds what he's looking for. Faint, like the shadow of a buttercup flower held to skin, marigold Cursed Energy branded in his retina as loudly as a siren. It doesn't matter that Tsukumo Yuki's Cursed Energy is a horrid neon tangerine or that there is another unfamiliar signature, a translucent robin's egg, next to Yuna's. Satoru inhales and teleports right where he needs to be, on a rooftop restaurant with a clear view of the sun setting behind the largest cathedral in the city.

It has been five years since Yuna left Japan, but they see each other several times a year. Yuna comes back annually to refresh the School's Barriers and to see the Fushiguro children, and Satoru has developed a taste for travel since chasing her down has felt like a game that Yuna does not try too hard to win. This is the first time he has appeared out of literal thin air, though, without a single text message to forewarn her of his arrival.

Yuna freezes when she sees him, her soup spoon paused half way up to her lips. She looks different, hair pulled back in a sleek bun, pearls dangling on her ears, in a black dress with one shoulder fully bare. Her tattoos trail up both arms, out and open and bold in a way Yuna has never been.

Next to her, Tsukumo Yuki laughs at the sight of him, lips painted as dark as the wine she drinks. Men at a nearby table openly leer at her, and no matter that Satoru would rather kill Yuki than fuck her, he gets it: she is stunning, especially when she actually cares about what she wears. She is in a black jumpsuit and red heels that look more weapon than shoe, and Satoru does not doubt for a moment that Yuna had been the one to dress her.

The third member of their party is as tall as Yuki, a dark, heavyset man with warm eyes and loops of gold pierced through his lobes. His suit threatens to burst at the seams when he shifts toward Satoru. His Cursed Energy does not match his appearance in the slightest, shallow and clear as a brook, but Satoru knows better than to let down his guard.

"Gojou-kun." Yuna sets down her spoon. At his name, the foreigner reaches into his pocket for something that radiates a separate Cursed Energy, a thin rope of black, but Satoru points at him.

"Ah, careful," he grins, glasses sliding down his nose bridge in perfect dramatic fashion as the Six Eyes glare at the stranger, and the stranger stiffens. Interesting, he understands Japanese. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Relax, Samuel," says Yuki as she polishes off her wine glass. "You're fine."

"Gojou-kun, Samuel-san is a friend we met here who comes from a clan of sorcerers in Kenya that specializes in neutralizing curses. We are all doing research together," says Yuna, her face re-set to a blank canvas. "Samuel-san, this is Gojou Satoru, heir to the Gojou Clan, one of the Three Great Families in Japan."

"Pleased to meet you," says the man named Samuel with a very small bow of his head. His Japanese is accented but fluid, his voice a deep baritone. He looks older, perhaps in his mid-thirties. "What brings the owner of the great Six Eyes and Limitless to Barcelona?"

"Missed Yuna!" says Satoru cheerily.

Samuel stares at him, then stares at Yuna, clearly trying to decide if Satoru is joking, but Yuna gestures to an empty seat across from her. "Would you like to sit, Gojou-kun? We have only started on the first course, so if you're hungry you can order something."

"Sure, I'll have whatever you're having." He pulls back the seat and obnoxiously moves it around so that he sits between Yuna and Yuki. Yuki audibly snorts but doesn't fight it. Yuna for once does not chide him and instead scoots so that Satoru has more space next to her, their knees knocking under the white tablecloth.

She peers at him, the flecks of gold on her eyelids glittering in the sunlight. "Is everything all right?"

"Sure."

She looks uncertain. "You don't…are you sure?"

"Nope."

Yuna's expression becomes alarmed. "Are the kids okay? Or is it Shouko-san? Is there something going on at the School, is Yaga-sensei all right?"

Satoru snorts as he picks up a piece of bread and dips it in olive oil. "For how much you worry about people back in Japan, you'd think you'd just stay there." He chews the bread and realizes that he's actually hungry, and he is being a dick for no reason, especially when he is here to ask Yuna a favor. "Just kidding. Everyone is fine. I'm here to talk to you about something, but it can wait until after you're finished eating."

Yuna pauses before replying. "If it's important, we can talk about it now."

"Nah," he lies. "No biggie."

"What's with the secrecy, Satoru-kun?" Yuki spits out a clean olive pit. "We're all friends here."

Satoru arches his eyebrows at Samuel. "Stranger danger, here."

Samuel chuckles. "I believe we all know who is the real threat here."

"Gojou-kun is not a threat, please do not worry," says Yuna.

Underneath the table, Satoru feels her hand land on his knee and resists the urge to react. He knows Yuna is doing it because she thinks something is wrong and wants to comfort him, but Satoru is hypersensitive after being awake for so long and the merest touch, even through his jeans, is enough to send him careening. He wants to pull her away from all this, away from all the others into some dark alley, wants to taste that bare shoulder of hers. When Yuna, completely oblivious, rubs his thigh gently, Satoru coughs and downs the closest drink.

"Careful, that's a—"

It is purely because he is in the presence of a stranger and Tsukumo Yuki that Satoru forces himself not to spit out what is clearly alcohol and not water. It leaves his throat aflame, and whether it's from immediate effect or placebo, Satoru's head spins.

"Gin and tonic," says Yuna mildly, quietly after she watches Satoru swallow the entire drink.

"Great," he coughs. At least he has another reason beyond Yuna's innocent hand on his thigh to be blushing like a teenager. "Just what I wanted."

"I hear you're a lightweight," says Yuki brightly.

"Yeah," he says, unabashed. "I don't usually drink."

"Fuck up your Six Eyes?"

"Yeah, my excellent control becomes less precise," says Satoru, looking straight at Yuki, "so I may level an entire city when I'm just trying to level you."

"Please don't do that," says Samuel seriously. "This is a historic city."

"Can't promise that." He reaches for another piece of bread. "Let's see how well you keep me entertained, Samuel-san. How'd you guys all meet, eh?"

Samuel looks at Yuna, who smiles at him encouragingly. It annoys Satoru, and his vision pulses with the emotion.

"Yuna-san and Yuki-san were chasing a curse near the Sagrada Familia," says Samuel, pointing to the giant basilica in the distance. "My family has been working on trying to prevent the formation of curses at specific sites that are common origins, such as hospitals or churches. I saw Yuna-san lying down some remarkable Barrier work and we ended up talking. We have exchanged some excellent Barrier and Curtain techniques."

"It's slow work," sighs Yuki. "It's fine trying to prevent future curse formation, but it doesn't do jack to fix the problem of how many there are now."

"We've had good progress," says Yuna. "We've managed to reduce new curse formation since we've been here at the Sagrada Familia by thirty percent."

"That's a single tourist site among hundreds in a single city." Yuki taps impatiently against the table, which the servers arriving with the main course mistake as a signal for them to quickly distribute the plates of braised meats, sauced vegetables, and steaming paella and scatter. "It's barely nothing."

"All progress is progress, however minuscule, Yuki-san," says Samuel reassuringly, though his words are directed to Yuna, who drinks up his reassurance with an encouraging smile of her own. Satoru wonders if tall, huge, older men are somehow Yuna's type. "It will take time. My family has been working on this for generations."

"I don't want to wait that long," says Yuki, and for once, her tone is serious as she gazes off into the sunset. Yuna, meanwhile, reaches for what looks like a dish of grilled octopus and shares a piece with Satoru. "There's gotta be a faster option."

"Faster options tend to be unethical, as we've discussed."

She grins. "What, you mean the cult your cousin has gotten himself wrapped up in?"

The alcohol is hitting Satoru, along with his hours of insomnia. He feels simultaneously giddy and despondent, ravenous and nauseous, and the sunset splits into laser beams of ultraviolet. Yuna rubs his thigh, her touch scorching, and when he turns to her, her Cursed Energy is brighter than the sun itself.

"Have some food, Gojou-kun."

He takes the fork from her and shovels the small assortment of colors and textures into his mouth as Samuel and Yuki's conversations filter in and out of his senses like a shitty radio signal.

"He assures me it is not a cult."

"Having chatted with who is in charge of that cult, I assure you it definitely is. Not that I have anything against the plan! I told him it wasn't a bad idea. You wanna talk about quick results…"

"The indiscriminate murder of non-sorcerers is hardly a reasonable option—"

"Hang on," says Satoru, head jerking up, half-chewing.

"Yes," says Yuna quietly, "they are referring to Getou-kun. Just eat, Gojou-kun, I worry you're going to throw up after that drink."

"You told him it wasn't a bad idea?" Satoru says, and Yuna's grip on his knee tightens.

"Oh, yeah." Yuki has the decency to look a bit abashed. "It was just a casual conversation a long time ago, but we were talking about it—"

"Are you insane?" His vision pulses with his heartbeat, and the borders of Yuki's Cursed Energy have become tinged with blood. "He talked with you about this and you just told him it was a good idea?"

"I said not bad, not good—jeez, you sound like Yuna—"

Satoru turns to Yuna. "You knew she gave him the idea?"

"I didn't give him the idea," argues Yuki. "We were exchanging ideas, and—"

"This bitch gave Suguru the idea to commit monkey genocide, and you left with her instead of staying with me?" Every molecule of his Cursed Energy vibrates so finely that the silverware clatters. "Are you stupid?"

"You're drunk and tired, Gojou-kun," says Yuna quietly. Her touch had disappeared the moment he'd said "monkey." "Please don't say anything you'll regret."

"You're not stupid, but this is the way you handle all your problems, huh?" he laughs. "Run, hide, let me fix what's left behind? Well, thanks for making this easy for me, now I don't have to feel bad about it at all. I'm here to bring you back, Yuna. We're getting married."

In the waning sunlight, Yuna's blind pupil glitters like a fading star at twilight. "What?"

"Yep. Surprise! I'll get you a ring later. We're getting on the earliest flight back tomorrow."

"Whoa, there, Satoru-kun," Yuki says, eyes crescent, fangs bared, "we're all family here. I thought we could just have a nice dinner and let bygones be bygones."

"Suguru isn't a fucking bygone," snarls Satoru, Six Eyes blazing with the force of multiple universes behind them, and for once, Yuki recognizes the full weight of his threat. Her Cursed Energy thrums and her fingers slide over the steak knife, imbued with a peel of tangerine. "Come on, Yuna."

He grabs her hand, fingers interlaced in the shadows of pristine starched cloth, and takes his suitcase in the other. The world spins, disappears, reforms, and his Cursed Energy ripples once. The rooftop restaurant evaporates, and they're in an empty alleyway, Satoru's net cast at random to just obey the command of, "Away." The alley is filthy, the stench of rotten eggs pungent, the buzz of flies over spoiled meat incessant and inescapable, but at least they are alone.

Yuna's hand is in his, and he brings her wrist up to his lips unconsciously, tracing the scent of her perfume dotted over her pulse point. Something floral, light, sweet. She smells and looks out of place here, finely dressed and pristine and—

Angry.

"I am not marrying you," she says, cold, the clearest truth she has ever uttered.

Satoru opens his mouth to argue back.

We'll see.

You don't have a choice.

Please.

Instead, the world spins, pressure spills in every fold of his brain and out every pore of his skin, the dark splits into colors and Satoru shoves Yuna to the side, bends forward, and vomits all over his Jordans.

Tokyo, Japan. November 13th, 2017.

Even in the late night, the ancient temple of Sensou-ji is lit up, the rich red underbelly of the pagoda muted and glowing in warm candlelight. The statues of Fuujin and Raijin cast long shadows as they reign over nothingness, immortalized in immobility, empty gods guarding the gates that true gods bypass entirely. With a Starbucks right outside the main gate and a shopping district across the street, one would think that the holiness of temple would ring false, but even Satoru, the closest thing to a god in the modern age, feels the resonance of his ancestors when he steps past the threshold.

It had been Suguru's idea to meet here originally, at Tokyo's oldest temple, because "it's the only place monkeys remember their place and worship old sorcerers." While not all old Shinto gods had been sorcerers, many of them were, and Suguru had proposed meeting here, where his hatred for monkeys is blunted by their supplications, to convince Satoru that he will be less bloodthirsty. Conversely, the high traffic of the non-sorcerers is a safeguard, as Suguru is well aware that while Satoru does not feel particularly remorseful when non-sorcerers die, he will not do the deed himself.

They are both lying to each other. Suguru has killed plenty of non-sorcerers on their bent knees. Satoru is not a mass murderer, a barbed counterpoint to his old classmate, but he has sworn a binding vow to never hurt only one person who is a sorcerer and even that may have been a mistake.

Nonetheless, they have a silent pact that this is neutral ground when they meet here. Sometimes, it's not silent—Suguru often swears binding vows to get Satoru to show up. The vows are always carefully worded, with time limits and explicit contingencies, but he promises that while they meet, no sorcerers or non-sorcerers will be harmed by his hand or the hands of his family. He never asks Satoru to do the same, which either means Suguru stupidly trusts him or he thinks Satoru stupidly trusts him, and Satoru has yet to decide which is the right answer.

"You're late, as always." Suguru perches on the topmost roof of the tiered pagoda next to the temple, looking like a runaway priest. Satoru almost expects him to have a cigarette, because this is the kind of place high-school Suguru would've bummed a smoke in, sacrilegious in a juvenile way, but Suguru had given up monkey-vices years ago. "You know you of all people don't have an excuse, right? Teleportation and all?"

"Wasn't gonna come." Satoru steps in front of Suguru, his feet hovering above the lacquered tiles.

"I even swore you a vow on the phone," grins Suguru, teeth sharp in the moonlight, face cast in odd shadows. "That wasn't enough?"

"What the fuck do you want, Suguru?"

"Language," mocks Suguru. "We're on holy ground."

"Get to the point or I'm leaving."

"You're so impatient," he sighs. "I told you to bring sensei, didn't I?"

"So you can shove her not-dead parents in her face? Pass, thanks. I don't care what you're doing with them. Leave her out of it."

"So protective," Suguru muses. "Did you tell her?"

Satoru doesn't answer, and Suguru's grin widens, hackles bared.

"Of course not. You just hid her and put her under house arrest, huh? I've been waiting for her to activate the Barriers she put around Shinjuku, but she never showed back up."

"You don't even need her."

"Nah, not really." Backlit by crimson, Suguru looks like he's bathed in blood. "I got what I need from her parents. Was gonna kill them. Wanted to see if she'd do the honors."

Satoru stares. "Why?"

"I mean…" Suguru gestures aimlessly, the embodiment of duh, "they sold her?"

"Don't think it matters much, in the larger scheme of things."

Suguru arches an eye. "Wow. Ten years later, and you still have no tact."

"How am I the one with no tact when you literally want her to kill her parents."

"You don't think she thinks about it all the time? What would have happened if she hadn't been sold? If she hadn't been married? Forced to have a kid?"

"Why would you care," retorts Satoru. "She'd still be a monkey, right? Wouldn't you just kill her anyway?"

Suguru pauses, as if he hadn't considered this. "I guess that's true. Maybe it'd be a mercy, compared to everything else she's gone through."

"Spoken like a true god-complex."

"Whoa," Suguru grins. "Nice to meet you, kettle. I'm Pot."

"Fuck you." It comes out miserable. "You're really gonna do this, Suguru? This is insane. Even for you, you know this. This is…"

He can't bring himself to say it. This is the end. This is the point of no return, as if Suguru hadn't embarked on this path ten years ago, as if murdering an entire village hadn't been exactly that point. Satoru doesn't know what he was waiting for or hoping for otherwise, all these years of furtive meetings and coded texts, as if the Suguru who'd told him the strong protect the weak all throughout high school was somehow the same as the one who leaves a trail of non-sorcerer blood behind his every step.

Suguru's expression shifts. "Yeah, Satoru. I am. This is what I've told you from the start. I haven't hidden otherwise."

"I'm gonna…" Satoru pauses. "I'm gonna have to kill you."

Suguru stands up slowly, brushes off his robes. His hair is so much longer now, all shades ebony, while Satoru knows he himself practically gleams in moonlight.

"Yes," his tone as if he is commenting on the weather, "I imagine you'll have to try."

They look at each other. After that whole fiasco in Barcelona, Satoru has learned his lesson and has not touched Suguru since, but right now he is torn between grabbing him and hugging him or putting him in a headlock. He does neither, but instead flexes his fingers.

Suguru notices. "Careful, Satoru. I should probably tell you that I know about a little place in Edogawa."

Satoru freezes, and Suguru smiles. "Ten years of keeping that place Hidden, huh? I always did wonder where you hid the Zen'in kids. I confess this was all a distraction. I figured you were keeping guard and needed you away so my family could collect sensei."

The Six Eyes burn. "Suguru. You better fucking watch yourself."

"Don't worry," Suguru soothes. "I swore a vow, didn't I? No harm will be done to her or the Zen'in kid."

Satoru doesn't wait to worry. He warps away without another word, to a bright, secluded home along the Edogawa River steps away from where Fushiguro Toji's ashes reside.

Behind in the temple, the Bodhisattva of compassion is stone, still, silent, as she always is on all matters, jujutsu or otherwise.

Barcelona, Spain. April 2013.

He can tell Yuna is livid by the deathly silence with which she leads him to her home, but in typical Yuna fashion, being angry does not stop her from taking care of him. She hails them a taxi, apologizes to the driver in stilted English for the distinct scent of vomit emanating from them, and essentially hauls Satoru up several flights of stairs to the top floor of an old building a short drive away from where Satoru had teleported them. He barely registers the flat—clean, lilies in a ceramic pitcher on the kitchen table, open windows and a little balcony terrace, smells like lemons and Jujutsu High—before Yuna pushes him into the tiny bathroom. She gives him a spare set of fluffy beige towels and rolls his suitcase into the corner so that he can change before leaving him without another word.

The shower helps. The thing about being a lightweight means that Satoru suffers the hangover and being drunk at the same time, but Reverse Cursed Technique means he feels back to normal by the time the shower is done and the steam has receded from the mirror's edges. It is enough time for the regret Yuna had warned him of to settle in. This was supposed to be a favor, not a demand. Satoru has grown, matured. He is better than this.

But old habits die hard, and to hear Suguru's name come out of Tsukumo Yuki's mouth, of all people, had set him off more than he'd have expected.

Satoru rinses out his mouth and brushes his teeth before changing into a T-shirt and sweats. He finds Yuna out on the terrace, sitting in a rickety straw chair next to a chipped patio table that supports a plain ceramic ash tray and a vase with baby's breath and indigo carnations. She is still wearing that dress but has removed her heels. Her hair curls messily around her shoulders, and her ink glistens like it's freshly painted in the moonlight. A cigarette glows at her lips as she taps on her phone, likely texting Yuki.

"You look like something out of a movie," he says honestly.

She glances up at him but says nothing as he settles in the seat next to her.

"I mean it as a compliment," he tries again. "You look nice. I should've probably said that first."

"Yes, typically compliments are part of the courting process, which precedes marriage."

He half-laughs. "Yeah. That. Good one, right? Don't see you for half a year, and the first thing I tell you is we're getting married."

Yuna hums. "You didn't even ask."

"I meant to. Really. As a favor."

"Why?"

Satoru leans back in his chair and props his legs up against the railing of the balcony. "Don't be alarmed. Suguru and I talk. Sometimes—rarely, I promise—we meet up."

Yuna blows out a breath of haze. "I am aware."

He scoffs. "What, Shouko tell you?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, well," he grimaces, "it's fucking dumb. I know. But a Kamo spy found out. A Gojou spy killed the Kamo spy before they could report to the Kamos, but word got back to my parents."

Yuna taps off her cigarette in the ash tray, the peak of a small mound of gray. "I see."

"My parents didn't know about me and Suguru's relationship in high school," he says, voice thick. "Not that way, anyway. But now there are rumors. And…"

"They're worried you're in relations with a Special Grade Curse User."

"And a guy," adds Satoru.

"So you need to convince them otherwise. Why me then?"

"Because they won't believe me getting engaged with a random woman, not after what happened with Himari. You're the appropriate amount of scandalous."

"Because I'm an Object."

"And previous teacher," he offers. "It's an easy story to spin. I've been infatuated with you since my high school years, enough to become Gojou head for you and take you under Gojou protection, all so I can marry you in the end."

The proposal is flat and toneless. Even Satoru knows he sounds like a jackass, but he thinks Yuna responds to business proposals better than emotional ones. It is better that he doesn't linger on feelings, because Yuna has always known how to shut those confessions down before he can really process them.

"Why don't you marry Shouko-san?"

"I've proposed to her before. She said she'd rather die."

Yuna gives a quiet laugh. "Good for her."

"Hey," he jokes, even though he doesn't find anything funny about the situation.

"I will not marry you, Gojou-kun."

"It's not for real, Yuna, we just go through the ceremony and then you can move back abroad and do whatever the fuck you're doing for Tsukumo Yuki—"

"I'm doing this with Yuki-san," she interrupts, "because if we can find a way to rid the world of curses, Getou-kun will have no reason to be a Curse User anymore."

Satoru stares at her. Yuna stamps out her cigarette and lights another one.

"Samuel-san and I have been doing good work," she says. "If we can scale up our preliminary work, we could concentrate high curse areas in Tokyo and dramatically reduce curse volume. If it's enough, maybe Getou-kun will see it as a viable alternative, and he'll change his mind."

"Yuna. That's…"

Stupid. Pointless.

"It's not gonna work."

"Why?"

"You're not powerful enough to do something of that scale."

"I know. That's why there's Yuki-san, right?"

"She says it won't work, too. You can't put a spell like that on an entire country, and there are too many individual hospitals, graveyards, churches, sites for you to handle. And even if you could target individual sites, it doesn't get rid of all curses—there's just too much misery in this goddamn world."

"So what?" she says, eyes wide, bright, and it takes him a bit by surprise to see her as something fierce. "Is this what you want me to do, Satoru? Come back, be your bride? Your wife? Is that my worth—a distraction for your parents, the lesser of two sins?"

"No, that's not…that's not the only reason I'm asking you."

"You did not ask."

"Right. I didn't." Because I don't have to. He lets out a breath. "Yuna. Will you—"

"No."

He lets out a frustrated noise. "You don't get it."

"I told you before, Satoru. I can't ever. Marry you. Ask someone who can."

"I don't want anyone else."

"You don't want me to, either."

"I trust you to. Besides Shouko, you're the only one I trust to. You will never do anything to cross me. And I've…already sworn a vow to you to do the same already. That's more important than marriage already—the rest of this, this is all ceremonial, nothing big."

"It is not ceremonial," she says sharply. "It won't be for your bride. They will want your wife to be at home. They will want an heir. Every woman who marries you understands that."

"We can divorce before it gets there—"

"There is no such thing as divorce for your wife. There is marriage with the promise of an heir, or there is death. I've done this before. I've…" she gestures with her cigarette, "I've paid my dues. I will not birth another child, nor will I die. So please find yourself another way."

The words register slowly, as if Satoru's brain is still diluted with alcohol.

Dumbly, he asks, even though it is none of his business, "Does that mean you can't…?"

She looks at him, eyes alight and determined. "It means I won't."

"Oh. Okay." He swallows. He's hot, all of a sudden. All this talk of heirs and brides and he can't stop staring at Yuna's bare shoulder. "Not that it matters. I wasn't askin' you for a kid, Yuna. I don't even want one. And I won't let them touch you. You know that."

She nods once and her expression softens. "That will not be necessary as long as I stay out of the way. And marrying you, whether real or not, would put be unnecessarily but very much in the way. Use the announcement however you want. Maybe it will be enough of a distraction. But I will not marry you, Satoru."

"Right." He heaves out a sigh. Every muscle fiber in his body relaxes in concert. He had known this was a dumb idea. That it wasn't going to work. But he had tried, and there is a relief in Yuna's 'No," because it had been her choice and not his. "Okay."

She stamps out her cigarette. "You can stay in Barcelona for a while, if you need a bit of a break."

"Yeah, Yuki will love that."

"We don't live together. She and Samuel-san are going to Kenya for a few days. I think you scared away Samuel-san."

He peeks at her, trying to see if she's disappointed about her dark, mysterious man leaving. "Oh? Are you inviting me to stay the night then? Are you swooning over my proposal and propositioning me instead, Morimoto-san?"

Yuna laughs at him, and he would be offended if he didn't notice her ears turn red. "I just saw you vomit all over yourself, Gojou-kun."

"I call it Reverse Cursed Technique: Expulsion."

She laughs again as she stands up. "I'll be sure to frame it as such when I tell Shouko-san."

"Hey, I just got off a fourteen-hour flight and you practically drugged me—"

"You have no one to blame but yourself."

"I feel like I should get a pass or something! For like, the first twenty-four hours after I see you, nothing counts! Vomit, stupid stuff, proposals…"

Yuna gestures for him to stand up. "Like a first-day rule?"

"Yeah, exactly. Nothing counts." He stands up and crowds her back against the balcony railing. The spring night is warm and pleasant. He rests one arm around her waist and another brushes aside her hair so that her shoulder is unadorned. He leans down and presses his lips to it. "This doesn't count." Kisses her neck. "This doesn't either." Hand in her hair. The other resting at her hip. The moonlight soft, lemons and lilies, a city of neat organization. Where Gojou Satoru must be introduced. Where Yuna sits on a balcony in a black dress with a bare shoulder and looks like a movie star who tells him no and has a dream that seems unattainable.

He kisses her cheek and moves to her mouth. Yuna stops him.

"Did you brush your teeth?"

He exhales in her face in response and she wrinkles her nose. "Gojou-kun."

"Payback for rejecting me. For breaking my heart."

She gives a small laugh. "Doesn't count, right? First-day rule?"

He kisses her fully. "Doesn't count. One day, I'll ask you again."

For years after her departure, Yuna has returned to a small, shitty apartment in Edogawa leased out by a Fushiguro Mitsuko. Toji-san's ex-wife, whose financial appetite rivals Mei Mei's, had tried to tear the apartments down three years back for "foundational renovations." Yuna, incredibly peeved, had threatened to tell Fushiguro Tsumiki exactly where her good-for-nothing-mother was if Mitsuko attempted such a thing, and instead had consented to at have the apartments be renovated. It likely cost more than demolishing the whole thing, but what Mitsuko did not understand was that Cursed Energy and Barrier work built on itself—ironically, the residuals left behind by Yuna's "Hidden" ofuda became only progressively more Hidden with time, making the shitty apartment in Edogawa the premiere safehouse in all of Tokyo.

The people who knew about this apartment were few and far in between. The Fushiguro children, Shouko, Yaga, and briefly, Zen'in Maki when she'd left the clan and needed a temporary residence while Satoru finagled her transition to the School. For all her complicated feelings about Fushiguro Toji, Yuna feels parts guilt, parts relief knowing that she has made the greatest sin and secret of her existence her best kept one.

For the last week, Satoru has secluded her to the safehouse. He made Megumi keep guard, which Yuna finds ridiculous because Megumi needs to go to school, but Megumi is only more than happy to skip class and feel like he is contributing to jujutsu society instead, even though playing guard to Yuna's house arrest is unnecessary. Satoru teleports directly into the apartment several times a day with food, updates, and other supplies, but for the most part it's just Yuna and Megumi. Both are quiet, unexciting people by nature, so the first several days are pleasant, nearly relaxing. Megumi sleeps on the couch (new, larger, a pull-out bed), insisting that Yuna take the bedroom. His Divine Dogs guard the door and window, and during the daytime, Yuna teaches him spell-work and they compile stacks of ofuda imbued with their Cursed Energy, ready to be distributed around the School or city.

During the night, Yuna makes Megumi do his regular school work while she prepares dinner from the groceries Satoru brings by. She finds it funny that Satoru knows how to grocery shop, but imagines he remembers what she likes from the times she's made him accompany her to the grocery store when he's appeared in her life abroad. Megumi, who has always relied on Tsumiki for a home-cooked meal, has lost weight in the last year, so Yuna makes his favorites and they eat around the kotatsu, sometimes with Satoru, most of the time without. The left side of the table—Tsumiki's preferred spot—always remains empty.

"Do you think we'll ever find out how to reverse it?" Megumi asks one night when Yuna remarks that being stuck under house arrest means they don't get to visit Tsumiki. "Her curse?"

Yuna frowns into her soup. "Yes. Eventually."

"When?"

"I don't know. These kinds of curses are tricky. They're powerful in their dormancy—Tsumiki is not hurt, she is healthy, alive. She is cursed but not being actively cursed, if that makes sense. It makes it difficult to track where the Cursed Technique is coming from. It will need to activate at some point, but it will need a trigger."

"Like the massacre of all of Shinjuku?" says Megumi dryly.

Yuna shakes her head. "I do not think this is Getou-kun's doing. He would've just killed her. This kind of long-game…I do not think is his style."

"Do you think she was targeted?" Megumi says, aimlessly picking at a radish. Yuna dips a gyoza into vinegar and puts it on his plate. "Because of me?"

"No." Yuna pauses. She has been told many times now that she needs to elaborate once in a while, so she tries. "I do not think so."

Megumi doesn't look convinced, but before he can say so, the Divine Dogs both start barking. Yuna straightens up, grabbing her staff, and Megumi withdraws a katana stowed beneath the sofa. They stand back-to-back, Megumi facing the window, Yuna the door. The dogs flank their open sides.

There are voices in the hallway, reverberating through, nondescript. Yuna can't sense any new Cursed Energy signatures in the building, and by the confused look on Megumi's face, he can't either. After several minutes, nothing happens.

"It's Hidden," mutters Megumi. "They can't see our Cursed Energy, our Residuals, they can't even see the Barrier. You put ofuda over the entire building—technically, the building must be masked."

"I know." It doesn't make her any less uneasy. "But the dogs…"

Then, she feels it—like the outermost part of an onion layer being peeled back, the Hidden Barrier surrounding the whole building suddenly disappears.

"They know we're here," she says quickly. "I don't know how, but they just dismantled the building's Barrier. You need to get to the roof, use Nue to escape. Here." She pricks her finger on a kitchen knife and presses it to a small "Hidden" character on her right wrist. It glows gold and she pushes the Energy to Megumi in a solitary pulse, his Cursed Energy disappearing to sense.

"I'm not leaving you here," he says indignantly.

"I can't use Hidden on myself," she says, rummaging through her scrolls and finding a Miracle. "If I go with you, they'll track my signature and we'll both be caught. This is Getou-kun, I do not think he will hurt me, but he may certainly hurt you."

"We can call Gojou—"

"That may be exactly what Getou-kun wants," she says sharply. "He knows the biggest threat to the Night Parade is Gojou-kun—if he can neutralize Gojou-kun, then all is lost. We can absolutely not afford that. Get to the roof, escape, then call Gojou-kun. You'll be able to find me, you can track my phone."

"Yuna-san—"

"We do not have time, Megumi-kun." She plasters a Miracle to his chest and pushes him out the door. "Roof, now. I'll escape through the alleyway."

"Yuna-san."

"I can take care of myself, Megumi-kun," she says. She pats his shoulder. "I am a sorcerer, too. Now go."

Megumi nods curtly and does not argue further. He sets out the front, heading up the staircase to the rooftop, his dogs at his heels. Yuna goes to the bedroom, where she double-checks on an old, gray shoebox with a weathered photo, an old VCR tape, and a Cursed Weapon named Nightmare's Whim. She hides them deep in the closet behind a false wall, before she climbs out the bedroom window onto the fire escape. Outside, the night is deep but the sky cloudless, yielding a strong moon and adequate lighting. Yuna flings a seal with the word "Blast" three apartment doors down, silently apologizing for using them as a distraction, but the Cursed Energy that flares from the seal is hopefully enough to peel attention away from her long enough so that she can slip away.

The moment her feet touch the ground floor, though, she is frozen. It is not her own "Freeze"—she can still breathe, blink, but her feet are rooted to the ground. Awkwardly, she turns only her torso around, and two twins enter her vision, familiar: one brunette, one raven-haired, in school uniforms. She remembers these two: the ones who'd killed Megumi's elementary school teacher, the ones who'd wanted crepes while Suguru had declared war. One has her cellphone out, radiating Cursed Energy, as she addresses a tall foreigner Yuna does not recognize.

"Miguel-san was right," the brunette says, delighted.

The man named Miguel is nearly twice the height of the twins, with long gold earrings and sunglasses despite the night. He has a high nose, full lips, dark skin, and has a faintly familiar Cursed Energy signature.

"Good job, Nanako," he says in perfect Japanese.

"How did you find this place?" says Yuna, stunned. "It's been Hidden with years of work."

"I have my cousin to thank," Miguel answers. "It's nice to finally meet you, Morimoto Yuna-san. I believe I have your luggage." He gestures beside him, where her beat-up, old travel bag looks pathetic next to him. "My apologies for the delay. Samuel shipped it back to me at my request, though I must take responsibility for your travel plans being derailed in the first place."

She swallows. "Samuel-san said you weren't in touch."

"We are not close," he corrects, "but family is family, especially when one has a close run in with Gojou Satoru."

Yuna understands. "He told you about my Barrier Technique. He gave you samples of my talismans to track."

"It was not too far beyond what Getou-sama already knows, if that makes you feel better. It was a matter of learning how to track your Hidden Residuals, which is quite challenging I must admit, but you may remember," he raises his arm, where a thick cord of rope is twisted around his forearm, its ends smoldering, "that my family's Black Rope negates Techniques once I've gotten the hang of them."

Yuna's mouth has gone dry. She had always quite liked Samuel. "I see."

"Getou-sama says not to hurt you," Nanako says, "but he'd like you to come with us for a bit."

"Why?"

"It may be easier to show you than explain." Nanako's phone emits a bright flash, and before Yuna can respond, she's transported.

It's quiet—eerily so, soundproofed the way Jujutsu High is. Yuna's eyes adjust to the dark. The room is an open, traditional one, tatami mats and shoji screens, lit only by flickering lamplight. She doesn't know where she is, but she imagines this is Suguru's hideout, the one even Satoru couldn't find. There's no other Cursed Energy in the room, just her own.

She thinks.

"Kaa-san."

Yuna whirls around, her heart dropping. She knows that voice. She hears it in her nightmares and each time Nightmare's Whim sank into her waist. It lives in her marrow, in the deepest recesses of her heart and soul, buried with the memory of Toji, lingering like a shark ready to strike at the faintest scent of her weakness.

"Kaa-san," it says again.

Out of the shadows, it steps into light. Two heads, four eyes, pulling itself off two still bodies she can barely make out behind a pillar.

"Kaa-san," its mouths say, just like in her hallucinations, but it can sit up now, with a bulbous body but a body nonetheless.

Two feet, four arms. Grown. Outstretched. Cursed Energy like hers, ugly, writhing, indigo-black.

"I'm yours."

Hers.

free talk

sorry as always for the wait. nothing quite like finally catching the big rona to kick you into gear Y-Y

jumping back and forth times is quite difficult. i hope characteristically it does feel different when it's a satoru or yuna of past or present. originally, i'd planned to write everything in the time skip chronologically but ended up not doing it because i was worried it'd limit the scenes i could write, but now i'm stuck with the challenge of flitting back and forth. i hope this chapter explains some of yuna's resistance to satoru (even ten years later) a bit clearer, because i know it's been frustrating, but also she's supposed to be frustrating haha.

i was really curious what country miguel was from (since his name is spanish, not a tonnn of spanish-colonized countries in africa and so i'd guessed north moroccan. i'd long planned for yuna to be in spain with a relative of miguel's for this reason, but then the movie vol 0 seems to suggest miguel's from kenya, which is...what i went with and therefore chose an english/christian name that could also be spanish). thinking too hard about minor plot points...

thanks for sticking around and hope you enjoyed. as always, would love to hear from you :) for folks who have access but haven't gotten their vaccines, please go get them! stay masked and stay safe. xoxo