the eyes and the teeth

A/N: For ultimate sadness, I suggest playing Hikaru Utada's "First Love" and Aimer's "Deep Down" at some point while reading this.

Karajishi Botan - "guardian lion with peony" - a tattoo of a lion with peonies, which represent strength, beauty, and healing

Akuin Akka - "cause evil, create evil"

Nawatsuki - "prisoner in bonds"

Sumikeshi – blotting out characters with ink

Nagasu – "to drain, spill, wash away, exile"

Munewari - "split chest" - a style of tattooing that covers the arms, chest, and back, leaving a strip of bare skin running down the front torso

Uchitomeru - "to hammer into place, to end (a performance), to kill"

Mawatadekubi wo Shimeru – "to drag things out, to strangle slowly with a silk cord"

Yaku wo Otosu – "to exorcise, to escape evil"

Kireaji - "sharpness, cutting ability"

Susugu – to rinse, to wash out, to have one's revenge, to wipe out a disgrace

Aburidashi – invisible ink writing revealed by applying heat; writing done in invisible ink

"In jujutsu fights, it's always a matter of who's the bigger monster."

A curse is exorcized and a domain is made. Between that, a funeral is held and a promise is broken.

"Tatsuya."

You choke and cry; those are the first things you do when faced with the illusory image of Tatsuya in this domain of thick fog and autumn leaves. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for letting your guard down so easily. You've fallen for this trap and you might as well be gutted and sliced where you stand. This is an embarrassment of the highest form, humiliation of the finest caliber. You ought to have whatever god there is to strike you and smite you from existence.

You turn away from the image before you can see it for what it truly is. This is not Tatsuya any more than it is his ghost. This is a fragment of him left here, created by the Jorogumo's domain, and there should be much more here, many more fragments of the people its devoured. This is not Tatsuya and you know it.

"Stop."

You say it, not knowing whether it's to stop you or the image. You hear nothing from behind you but the whisper of the leaves and the sigh of the fog. If any other situation, you would think this is a dream. A nice dream about a nice person is a nice place, but this isn't a dream. So do not cry. Because this is a fight. And you must fight.

When you turn back, he is no longer there.

Of course he isn't. He never was, because he's dead.

You still need to remind yourself of this, not to fall for any soft-looking and sweet-smelling promises conjured by this yokai. You can let yourself mourn and cry and regret, but you shouldn't fall for any of it. You look towards the replica of Matsumae Castle, knowing there couldn't be any other place the Jorogumo could be. There's no reason to delay this any longer. So you let you tears stream, you let your heaving resonate, but you run towards the castle all the same.

In this kind of story, you're the daring samurai rushing towards the bandits' hideout, prepared to retrieve what they have stolen.

But as you approach the castle, there is no unsettling feeling of the slightest spark of cursed energy. Perhaps the Jorogumo had concealed itself extremely well. Perhaps it's just biding its time just like a trapdoor spider. These kind of yokai play the long game after all, and their patience can be likened to that of the boddhisattvas. You're prepared, but you won't show it. You're ready to fight, to summon whatever, but you won't show it. The winning hand is the hand that is revealed last, some uncle had said. The winning hand is the hand that is shown first, he had later retracted. But this is no even playing field. Here, you are the mouse thinking it's the cat.

Where could you be?

You cross the gate and think the castle is going to swallow you whole. The stone path is pristine, untouched except for the autumn leaves brush the path. The breeze here is cold and almost unwelcoming, and you think something's going to appear and attack–

Do you want me to be afraid of you?

You taunt the Jorogumo as you approach the castle doors. You've always been patient, as your grandmother has taught you, but it's running thin. It's always been running thin, you think. You've always been on edge, always been pulled back and forth, passed around and between everyone else. Because your grandmother no longer wants to deal with you, she's thrown you to the almighty but similarly infuriating Satoru Gojo.

What? Senpai, infuriating?

Since when have you thought of him that way? Since he's started lugging you around and testing you without your knowledge, since he's started endangering your life on purpose? But you weren't really in danger, were you? And he wasn't really lugging you around where you didn't want to go–

Satoru Gojo is the epitome of everything wrong with the jujutsu community.

Wait– What?

These aren't your thoughts, these are…

"Karajishi Botan."

You don't hesitate anymore, and the image lifts from your hand and pounces on the floor, snarling. And though techniques like these are single use and not as strong, it's your bluff. This is the first move, a fake one. If the Jorogumo attacks now, you have a window to–

The castle doors swing open and you are greeted by strings of lanterns bursting forth. Was this an attack? You aren't sure, but you and the lion evade all the same. Following the lanterns that have attached themselves to the outer walls and the pillars, come… flowers.

Why flowers?

This Jorogumo has a flair for the theatric, you think. But you evade all the same, ready for a wide attack to disperse the flowers before they could conjure whatever illusion or spit out poison… You twist, and the lion twists with you, morphing into a ring, ready to cut all that comes into contact with it.

"Akuin Akka."

The moment the flowers stop, you twist again, and the ink ring spins outward, slicing the flowers and splattering over the walls. If the Jorogumo attacks now, you can chain this attack with the next and bind it before–

But what appears is still not the Jorogumo, but Tatsuya.

It will always be you, won't it?

You frown inwardly as Tatsuya appears just past the castle doors, dressed in his uniform and smiling at you like there's absolutely nothing wrong. Like nothing has ever happened between you and nothing will ever keep you apart. Like he's still alive and this is real and he is still alive– The Jorogumo must think so lowly of you to send you this illusion.

"It's you."

The illusion bears his face and voice, but you know better. Conversing with his ghost was enough, but the Jorogumo doesn't know that.

"I knew you'd come back."

The illusion takes a step forward, and you don't move.

"I'm glad to see you safe."

It takes another step forward, and you still don't move.

Why? Why can't I–

No, you understand why. This wasn't just an illusion, this was a trap. A quite literal one, because it wasn't Tatsuya keeping you from moving, it was the next course of action. You going to fight him. You're going to attack him. You're going to kill him. In this dream-like domain of the Jorogumo, you're going to kill this image of your beloved in a grand and tragic play for its entertainment. But you're ready for that, aren't you?

"Forgive me, Tatsuya."

You apologize to his image for the second time, and prepare for the next move.

"Nawatsuki."

The ink that's spilled morphs into the rope and binds the illusion tightly.

"Wait!"

It falls to the ground, helpless, but you don't kill it. Instead, you run past it.

"Don't leave me!"

You don't turn around. You don't look back. You run past it. You won't give the Jorogumo the satisfaction.

"Don't leave me!"

You enter the castle without another glance, and prepare for the next wave of attacks. Castles are built different from pagodas, so the Jorogumo could be anywhere. The Jorogumo could be everywhere–

"Shirokaki: Sumikeshi."

This technique is new to you, where you let the tattoos on your arms flow over your skin, ready to be manipulated into whatever shape or form the situation requires. You won't show the Jorogumo everything yet, you won't even dare show how confident you've become when handling the inky blade you now consider your favorite.

Where could you be?

You search for it by going everywhere, by opening all the doors and all the cabinets. Matsumae Castle's interior has always been off-limits and it was always to your younger imagination, but not like this. You move from room to room, opening door after door, almost desperate to find it and kill it. In a place like this, the yokai's location is hard to determine, and the obvious location is not always the correct one. Maybe the Jorogumo is on the top floor, maybe it's even outside, maybe it's been following the entire time, just hovering above you like a fly…

When you turn around, you are greeted by the grinning face of a zashiki warashi, which… You aren't surprised spirits like these have flocked to the Jorogumo. You are, however, surprised that the zashiki warashi has done nothing up to this point. It stares at you and you stare back at it. You aren't so unnerved by its still-grinning face, but you are unnerved at its presence here. You haven't heard of yokai having other spirits within its domain, so this is new. Either that, or… this is an illusion too.

You stare up at the zashiki warashi and silently dare it to do something to prove it's real.

But you give up right after, huffing, "No, you aren't real. Nothing– None of this place is real."

You don't need to remind yourself that, but the zashiki warashi breaks into a giggle.

"I must be the source of entertainment today."

You didn't think you'd make conversation like this, but you're getting tired, you're getting bored. If the Jorogumo thinks it can play you like this forever… Oh, now you're starting to think of a reason why the Jorogumo was able to hide itself for so long. It's going to wear you down, wear you out, and that's when it'll strike. The Jorogumo won't attack you now or anytime soon, it'll attack when you least expect it. When you're run out of ink and energy and the will to enact your revenge–

"Is that what I am?" You ask the zashiki warashi, "Is your master so bored that it would rather prolong this than get what it wants?"

But what does the Jorogumo want? Does it want to kill you? If not, then why even manifest its domain in the first place?

"Not any master," the zashiki warashi replies, "but home."

You don't even try to decipher what it's saying, but the fact that it's talking to you and not anything else is a small comfort, you think. If your grandmother could see you now, conversing with an enemy… what would she think? Of course, your grandmother would think you unworthy of forming a pact with any deity and cross you out of the family tree completely. This isn't how things are done.

This are never how things are done!

She would hiss at you and call you a failure of your line. And then she'd talk about how you've wasted all those years of training and you're better off–

No. No!

Because a Domain Crush wouldn't be enough. Effective, but not enough. You'd prevent this autumn illusion from ever appearing and then what? You'd come to the Jorogumo directly and kill it where it lies, ending everything in what could be a split second. But that wouldn't be enough. That wouldn't even be close to enough.

"Why here, onmyoji?" The zashiki warashi asks, "Why hesitate?"

"My peace," you start explaining, "to make my heart be at peace."

Because the only way it will be at peace is through the eradication of this Jorogumo and all its kind, yes?

All its kind? All the yokai?

"Do you?" The zashiki warishi asks, "Do you?"

You feel like you've been put on the spot now. Thinking of it now, how can anyone be at peace from the death of some… living… thing? How can you be at peace knowing that you're going to kill– No. Why are you thinking this, anyway? You don't kill. You exorcise. You purify. You don't–

"Kill!" The zashiki warashi yells, screeches, "Kill!"

And suddenly something surges forth from under you, the kind of energy that–

"Onmyoji!"

You jump and twist, placing your hands forward to meet whatever will spring forth… You just didn't expect– No, you only half-expected it to be the Jorogumo itself, with its uncanny beauty and grotesque grace. The Jorogumo is nothing different from its mythical ancestors, the half-woman, half-spider creature. The smell of lilacs don't escape you either, and you regret not bringing a mask with you.

You land backwards, stumbling in front of a ledge and regretting not claculating the distance enough. One swipe of its web and you'll–

"Onmyoji…"

The Jorogumo hisses, baring fangs and claws, its lips dripping poison. The hunger is present in its many, many eyes. The interest is present in its many, many eyes. It wants to feed.

"You've finally revealed yourself," you eye the azure color of its shell, "the Jorogumo of Yokohama."

You don't think it has a title like that, it's no urban legend or city-bred myth. This Jorogumo is ancient, that much you can tell from the scratches on its shell, the bandages wrapped around its limbs. The way it carries itself has an air of grace, an air of experience. This Jorogumo must have eaten hundreds in the course of its life.

"Why?" The Jorogumo speaks through its teeth, "Why?"

You don't think to answer its question. What was it asking anyway? Why you're here? Didn't it call you in the first place? Didn't it bait you to come here?

"Why kill," it continues, "your peace?"

Of course. It probably doesn't understand the concept of revenge.

"This home," you think it's starting to beg, "this home…"

That compassionate part of you is starting to thrum, but you won't let it flow. This is the Jorogumo, this is a yokai, this is a cursed spirit… and it is begging you to leave it alone. You don't know what's worse, that this creature has the audacity to beg, or that you're almost thinking of forgiving it. After all, it was just trying to feed. It was just looking out for itself, just like anybody– No. No!

Because of all the people, of all the other people… why did it have to be Tatsuya?

"No," you raise your hands toward it, "this isn't your home."

It's ironic to say it, because you're the trespasser here, still the mouse that thinks it's a cat.

"But this can be your grave."

The threat is thin, flimsy, and more theatrical than you think is normal, but it's a promise. You steady your hands and ready the ink, ready the attack. You're going to end this in one quick movement and finish this once and for all.

"Nagasu…"

This the improved version, the stronger version, the faster version. The ink spills from your arms and forms a single lance. Ink-black and solid, nothing is spilled and nothing is wasted. With this single movement, you will end the Jorogumo once and for all. Never mind making it suffer and beg, the sight of it already so helpless before you is enough.

"…Munewari."

Right?

It's a quick motion, a thrust and kick, a throw, and punch. You bring all your strength into this one movement, aiming the ink-black lance toward it. Anger. Fury. Vengeance. The lance appears to be burning with black flames. This movement should be enough. This one attack should be enough.

You are no torturer, you're a deliverer.

"Uchitomeru."

You throw the lance, screaming.

The lance flies, taking the Jorogumo with it, crashing through walls and floors. And the light the comes through the gaping hole it's made is misty, hazy. This isn't over yet…

You follow after it, jumping out quick and numb, but almost impressed when you see the sizeable crater it's made in what should be the Matsumae Castle garden. The Jorogumo struggles weakly, its hands and legs clawing at the lance. It's almost a pity such a beautiful place would be marred like this, by this, by you–

You look at the Jorogumo struggle and think whether to cut it down or strangle it. But instead, you ask it the single question that's bothered you all this time.

"Why Tatsuya?"

Because you at least deserve to know why, right?

But the Jorogumo looks at you tiredly, not knowing what to answer.

"The florist," you begin describing him, "you knew he was supposed to be protected."

You recall the charm you'd given him, the tattoo you'd given him.

"He was supposed to be safe."

You grit your teeth and the Jorogumo stares at you.

"Earlier, you showed–"

"No reason," it answers, "just hungry."

And that answer is enough to make you rage and summon another lance to stab through its neck–

"Kindness is more filling," it continues, "haven't eaten since."

Yes, you ought to summon another lance–

"Sorry."

Wha– What? After all– After everything, the Jorogumo thinks to apologize? You can't take that. You absolutely can't!

"Mawatadekubi wo Shimeru."

The lance melts into a rope, binding and constricting the Jorogumo tightly. You hear it hiss. You see it cry. You didn't think yokai like this would ever show such an emotion. You didn't think yokai like this would ever beg and plead and apologize– How human. How human-like, you correct yourself, because these spirits are only once human. They aren't human now, much like how you aren't human now either.

"In jujutsu fights, it's always a matter of who's the bigger monster."

As the ink tightens around the Jorogumo, you recall what your mother has told you all those years before.

You asked her then, "What about onmyodo?"

She asked you back, "What do you think?"

Your answer to her was, "It's all about preparation."

And she told you, "It's all about perception."

Back then, you didn't understand what she meant. What does perception mean? Sight? Vision? Whoever sees through the attacks first? Whoever sees it to through the end? But now, as the Jorogumo gasps and struggles, and claws at empty air, you're starting to realize what she meant. It's all a matter of perception, how you see yourself and how the enemy sees you. How you see the enemy and how the enemy sees itself. Such is the way of the gods after all. And in this moment, you are no monster. You aren't. You are a wronged woman, spiteful like a ghost, but no monster. You don't kill so indiscriminately like these creatures.

You are an onmyoji simply performing an execu– an exorcism. And this is the yokai that needs to be eradica– purified. No matter how much is begs, pleads, apologizes… it needs to disappe– leave. So in the final movement, you lift the Jorogumo and let the ink cover it completely. This is its chrysalis. This is its coffin.

"Yaku wo Otsu."

You use all your strength and thrust it to the ground, crush it under its own weight, bury it in black ink… The sound of it is nothing memorable. The gasp. The heave. The crush. The crush. The spill. You're thankful the ink is covering it. You can feel its energy dissipating, and soon its domain will follow.

The Jorogumo is dead and its doman will disappear, and you will be free.

You will be done.

You will finally be at peace.

So you wait.

You watch the leaves and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And–

Something's wrong.

The domain is still in place, so this wasn't the Jorogumo's. And if it wasn't the Jorogumo, then…

You hear the crunch of leaves, almost familiar now, and tear up the second time. The same image of Tatsuya stands before you, smiling, and you aren't sure what to think of him now except for this.

"Tatsuya," you call it by his name, "what's happening?"

The Jorogumo's body is decaying behind you and Tatsuya stares at it. This is first time you see frown like this.

"You made me," it says, "and I made this."

What the–

"Our world," it continues, "our dream."

I didn't–

"I made it for you, because of you."

I didn't!

You feel like a traitor, but more than that, you feel… evil. You didn't make him this way, did you? You didn't turn him into this. This is probably the Jorogumo casting a final illusion before it– You spin behind you, but the Jorogumo's body is still decaying. Unless there was another–

"No other," Tatsuya's image says, "just us now, like you wanted."

It grins, "Like you've always wanted."

This feels like a horror story.

"So stay," it says with the same expression Tatsuya had whenever he'd say that, "please stay."

You know better than to follow.

"You came back, like you promised," it pouts this time, "don't you remember?"

You don't remember making promises to false images.

"And I you have your peace, like you wanted."

You should end this now too.

"Isn't this enough?"

No, because you aren't Tatsuya–

"No more obligations or responsibilities, or anything else, just like you wanted."

You think it's baiting you on purpose, turning whatever memory into something twisted and vile. You've never wanted a world like this where it's just you– You don't notice how it has suddenly come so close, close enough to touch–

"This is real for us," it reaches out and touches your hair, and you steel yourself, stiffen where it touches you, because it feels so real–

"This is real for us," it repeats and presses further.

Stop!

It recoils then, an apologetic look on its face, the same kind of look Tatsuya would give you–

Stop!

And now it's the look Tatsuya would give when he's about to apologize.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you like that, I just missed you."

I just missed you.

If this was a different scene, Tatsuya would embrace you from behind and kiss your shoulder and tell you he–

"I love you."

This is just too cruel.

I wanted you to haunt me, to tell me you're still here.

You're definitely regretting ever thinking that.

"Get lost," you spit out, "leave me alone."

You need to create distance, so you shrug him it and shove.

"Huh?"

Its voice has morphed, and its face too.

"I know what you aren't," you say simply, gritting your teeth, "and I know you're something I need to kill."

The language is crude, but you'd rather face its true form that this memory.

"Something I need to eradicate."

You watch its face and body morph.

"Something I need to destroy."

You ready yourself for the motions, but then it stops morphing. It stops moving. It stops and turns to you with an expression almost unbefitting Tatsuya's gentle face.

"Am I?" It asks, arrogant and smirking, "Remember, you made me."

It takes a step forward.

"You wanted me to haunt you."

Another step forward.

"Wanted me to stay."

Another step.

"Wanted me to live."

And another.

"And you're regretting it now?"

Another…

"How cruel your love is!"

You see it for what it is, for what it tries to be. Tatsuya is still as beautiful as the day you met him, even as a monster.

Nagasu: Kieraji.

At this point, you don't even have to say it out loud. The ink that spills from your body knows what shape to make, the crude edge is now refined into a sharp line. This will end the only way you can end it. The only way it should end.

You imagine, briefly, what your grandmother would say after this.

"How pitiful your story, granddaughter."

You imagine, briefly, what you could have done to prevent this.

"I'm what's called an onmyoji, Tatsuya."

You imagine, briefly, what Tatsuya would say to you if he were still alive.

"You don't deserve this."

You strike fast and steady, plunging the ink-black blade where Tatsuya's heart would be. But it doesn't speak, it doesn't say anything else, it doesn't even reach for the blade to remove it, it simply… stares at you.

And you know this kind of stare. You've seen it enough times, and yet it manages to make you hesitate the slightest bit and your eyes tear up, but there is no escape now.

"Susugu: Aburidashi."

This is the fastest technique for this kind of exorcism, and this technique calls for fire. A kind of cremation that happens from the inside. The image of Tatsuya is split by black-ink lines, before bursting into black-ink flames, yet it makes no sound, it makes to cry, it simply… smiles. And seeing Tatsuya's smile inside the flames makes you think you're killing him a second time, and aren't you?

"You didn't deserve this."

It's last words to you are… You don't want to think about it now, but you watch quietly, weepingly, as the flames turn to ashes, as its domain is burned along with it. The fog fades away. The autumn leaves turn to ash. Matsuame Castle is turned to rubble, to dust, to nothingness. Everything fades away into the barren, dilapidated building. This warm dream-like world fades away into the cold reality, and you feel like screaming.

"I don't deserve any of this," you tell yourself, casting aside the inky blade and letting pool at your feet.

"None of this," you choke, "none of this…"

You lie on the cold, cold ground and weep.

It's days, several days, later when Satoru approaches you.

"How are you, kouhai?"

In your Tokyo apartment, you've decided to thrown away the dead plants and replant the dying ones. It was a struggle to make them come alive again, but you're managing it. Slowly. Carefully. Just like how Tatsuya would.

"Just here, senpai."

You don't know how to answer his question. Surely he's heard all about what you've done? Then again, there wasn't really any report or anything mentioned about it.

"The Jorogumo's gone?"

Oh, maybe he hasn't heard of it.

"The Jorogumo's gone," you echo, "it's finally done."

You don't think to tell him about the actual creator of the domain. Maybe in the future. Eventually. You still need to come to terms with it, with the fact that–

"I'm happy for you," he smiles, so you decided to tell him anyway.

"Tatsuya was turned into a yurei," you explain plainly, "he was able to manifest a domain…"

You think he's going to ask more, but Satoru shrugs instead and says, "You don't have to if you don't want to."

You feel weak at his sympathy.

"I know someone who's gone through the same thing."

"So it's common then," you try making a joke, "about loved ones coming back as… ghosts."

Because of course it is, there wouldn't be the slightest idea of yurei if there wasn't.

"Love is the greatest curse of all, y'know."

You don't know how he could say that so casually.

"But it doesn't always start that way, senpai," you try to reason, "there's such a thing a pure love, after all."

He laughs, "Do you really believe that?"

You flush, "Well– As kids–"

"Like I said," he cuts you off, "you don't have it if you don't want to."

This strange form of kindness is almost enough to make you cry.

"Senpai…"

So you do– cry. Loudly.

"Aww," he offers you his shoulder, "what's gotten my kouhai bawling her eyes out?"

You appreciate the sentiment, but you don't take it. Instead, you let your tears fall freely. Satoru turns away and let you, and appreciate his presence more than his compassion. Because you don't need a shoulder to cry on or a handkerchief to wipe your tears, you just need to cry. To allow yourself his sadness. This pain. This hurt.

"I'm sure he's proud of you."

You never expected this kind of kindness from the Satori Gojo, but you take it with both hands. And when your eyes have grown tired and you remember the plants need watering today, you tell Satoru you're fine now and that you're going to sleep.

"At seven in the morning?" He jokes.

"I pulled an all-crier last night," you joke back.

And he makes his way to your door.

"When you're done, you should consider that offer," he says on his way out, "Jujutsu Tech's always open for teaching applications."

"Does it offer part-time positions?" You ask, "Because with the shop…"

"Again," he tuts, "you don't have to if you don't want to."

He gives one final wave of goodbye and you think Tatsuya would agree with that statement.

"This life is for you to decide."

You look at the space where Tatsuya used to be and feel lighter.

Months later, you've got both shops under your name and in full swing. You're taking in tattoo customers most days, taking flower orders every other day, and going wherever else you're needed. You've made this part of Tokyo your kind of domain because no one else is here. Harajuku is fairly popular among human and supernatural entities alike, but you've managed to create a thin, thin layer of protection around this location. You work nights as the patrolling onmyoji and you work days in either research or refining your art. Each tattoo is imbued with a blessing. Each customer is gifted a small totem of their choosing. You aren't so popular, at least not yet, but what you offer those who are willing to take it is enough.

And you're supposed to be meeting Satoru today for lunch!

So when he struts past the door, too many hours too late, you didn't expect he'd bring someone else. Someone you didn't know.

"Senpai!" You greet him, but keep your frustration in check, "I thought you said after lunch?"

He laughs, "Well, it's still after lunch, isn't it?"

You sigh, "It's six-thirty in the afternoon."

He tuts, "Still after lunch."

You almost feel embarrassed for this other person, who looks out of place and uninterested in whatever antics your senior is up to. Sure, Satoru had mentioned you should make more friends in the jujutsu community, but was this really necessary? Bringing this other person along something the two of you are already used to doing by yourselves?

You think of what Tatsuya would say to you, and smile.

A/N: And with that, this is done!

Thanks so much to everyone for supporting this, and I hope I see you in the other stories in this universe. As always, let me know your thoughts and feelings!