the eyes and the teeth

A/N: Maybe I didn't fully think things through when I started this...

"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.

The moment you set foot in Tokyo, you almost want to pinch your nose at the smell of it. It reeks, you think, of so much energy and so many people that you want to board a plane back to Hokkaido and prove your grandmother right.

"I told you the cities stink."

But you're here, and you're far away from all the rules, the rituals, and the walls. You're far away from all the "don't do this" and "do it like that." You're now here in Tokyo, the polar opposite of your quiet life in Date, and you're in control now. In control. Control.

"Concentrate."

You remember hearing that word, again and again, in your family's training grounds at night. Over and over. It's become ingrained into you, carved into your bones. Concentrate. You have to make up for what you lack. But first, you have to know what you lack. Concentrate. What do you lack, anyway?

"Welcome to Tokyo."

Tatsuya's face is always a welcome sight, no matter where you are. He's a native of city life, and he's always fit in just about anywhere. It doesn't matter if he's in Date, in Sapporo, or even in this big-bursting city of Tokyo. It's like he is malleable clay, to borrow your mother's words, like he is soft enough to mold into different shapes and forms.

"And such is the soul, my dear daughter. Human souls are like clay, but ours are stronger."

You remember she told you that a jujutsu sorcerer's soul becomes hardened in time. It becomes like stoneware pots, hard to break and even harder to make. This is why sorcerers are rare. This is why sorcerers are difficult.

"It takes a village to raise a child, it takes a country to raise a sorcerer."

But weren't a difficult child. You did as you were told, and you've never made enemies of your cousins and relatives. If there was anything to be said about your disobedience, you were just the same as any other child your age, any other sorcerer your age. You just wanted to live, have fun, be happy.

And so you're in Tokyo, twenty years old and feeling like a runaway bride.

"I'm so glad you came with me."

Tatsuya smiles and kisses your cheek; maybe you are a runaway bride, like one of those old folktales from when you were younger. You feel flustered in his warm, understanding gaze, and you wonder if there is anything better than this life of your own choosing.

"Hey."

You meet Ieiri Shoko in the basement of Jujutsu Tech and think she smells more of disinfectant than cursed energy. She is one of the very few–extremely few, you think–sorcerers who could reverse the effects of cursed energy. She is prized, you think, and she's one of your senior's closest friends, but she doesn't look or act like him.

She offers a piece of candy, dangles it in front of you like a child.

"That's for being a good patient."

She drops it on the palm of your hand and moves to tend to another body.

A dead body. One of the students, you think.

But you don't look at the other table, you don't even dare to peer past her shoulder. Instead, you sit still where you are, quietly marveling at how she could mend broken flesh and bone like it's something easy. You came in with your fingers broken and elbow twisted. The only thing holding your limb together was the Cursed Script itself, the ink wrapped around your arm.

This is the last time you believe your senior when he says, "It's just a Grade 2 Curse!"

You didn't even believe that the Nando Baba from earlier was a Grade 3. If anything, it was Semi-Grade 2. It wouldn't have that much speed or have the ability to summon its domain. Was a low-ranked spirit even capable of Domain Expansion?

The Umi Nyobo you exorcised today is, you think, at least a Semi-Grade 1. It wouldn't be that difficult to exorcise otherwise. You wouldn't have had to utilize every bit of Cursed Script drawn on your body. You wouldn't have had to run out of Cursed Energy and resort to attempting to summon the guardian deity itself.

Amida Butsu.

What would your grandmother say if she found out you attempted to summon a guardian deity who does not yet recognize you?

"I could have died, Grandmother."

"Then you should have."

You smile wryly. Maybe you were lucky that your only punishment was a broken, bleeding arm. You think the deity might appreciate this, if not Amida Butsu, any one of the deities your family worshipped in the sacred land. Many a sorcerer's blood is used to fend off curses, but not yours, not so often of your line. Perhaps Lord Enma appreciates this indirect offering. Perhaps you might aim to summon Enma instead of Amida Butsu, the King of Hell rather than the Grand Savior.

"...and I shall become the gavel, the sword, and the prison."

"...and I shall become the water, the earth, the shield."

It's strange, you think, how you're made to worship deities that are polar opposites, whose domains are literally as far and as opposed as heaven and hell. Would this be useful in the future? Would there be a time, no, was there a time when an ancestor of yours managed to manifest both deities? How grand would that be?

"Shoko-senpai."

You speak, finally shaken of our your silence by the sight of the manifested technique. You never imagined Reverse Techniques to appear that way. She is like a puppeteer, you think, freely controlling the strings that appeared in the air. It's so precise and so elegant, you think, she looks like she's playing a harp, strumming the strings as the technique does its work.

"Yeah?" She turns to you, letting the soundless strings resonate. "You wanted another flavor?"

"No, I..." You can't help but be mesmerized at the sight. "I never imagined the Reverse Curse Technique could look like that."

She glances at the strings. "Yeah, well... I guess I'm special."

You smile. She shrugs. You think she could be a formidable sorcerer if she wanted to.

"Have you ever thought of becoming a sorcerer?"

She chuckles. "I already am one, aren't I?"

"No, I mean..." There's no actual term for it, is there? "Have you ever thought of exorcising curses with... cursed energy? If your technique looks like that, then..."

"I'm not one to risk my life." She replies easily, like she's used to the question, "And I'm one of the very few."

She turns back to the patient on the table, and strums the strings like one would a harp or guitar. And the sound it makes... You want to imagine how terrifying that sound would be in a battle against a curse.

"Don't tell me how terrifying the sound would be in a battle." She continues, as if she's read your mind, "Satoru bothers me about it every other day."

Still, you think, the potential in it...

"I know all about the potential too." She scoffs, chuckles, "So no use."

You like this atmosphere, this... friendly and jovial thing between you too. You could always use more friends in the jujutsu world.

So you laugh a little, "Shoko-senpai, can you read minds?"

And she grins this time, "Well, I had free access to your brain earlier..."

You feel your face go pale.

"Be happy I decided against it."

You laugh, and she laughs with you.

She wouldn't have, would she?

But if she did, and you shudder to think, what could she have seen?

One of the things you discover about Tatsuya, when you move into a small apartment together, is his real love of flowers. He has plants everywhere, in every possible place. On the shelves, on the tables, even in the small space reserved to hang laundry. Now, he's placing a pot of violets on the counter near the sink.

"For honesty." He says.

He looks around the room and smiles at the sight of it all. It's a garden, you think, carefully constructed and yet a kind of untamed growth that you can only marvel at. Tatsuya is a firm believer in the language of flowers, and how plants have the evocative power to heal and make any dull place bright. He smiles at you and you smile back; sometimes you want to tell him that it's him who has that power, not the plants. He looks so genuine and so sincere, that you sometimes wonder why he chose you.

"For honesty." You echo.

It is more like a wish for you than a promise. How you could only wish to be completely honest with him, that you're not a tattoo artist or digital painter, but a jujutsu sorcerer sworn to protect people like him from supernatural and otherworldly entities. But the truth is always elusive, it's supposed to be for people like him, because they wouldn't understand. To them, the world of spirits is nothing more than a world of myth and fantasy; it's all folktales and fairytales.

"The Akkorokamui is real!"

You remember how he sounded when you were younger, how absolutely elated he was when his grandmother was cured of her illness. And you wonder about that now, if he still believes that an ocean deity cured his ailing relative, and not the many medicines she took.

"I love you."

He says it so easily and so honestly that you think the blush coming to your face is out of embarrassment. How could anyone say it like that? Like it was a magic phrase to make everything right in the world? I love you. You can see it in his eyes on cold mornings. I love you. You can feel it in his arms on warm nights. I love you. You can taste it on his lips in the hazy afternoons. I love you, I love you. You can hear it in the way he cooks, you can smell it in the flowers he plants.

"I love you."

You say it back, and every time you do, it feels like the first time. So when Tatsuya kisses you, in the mid-morning glow among all the plants and all the things in this space that make it yours and his, you feel like crying. He is too honest and too open with his feelings that you feel you're being selfish. You're being selfish in the way sorcerers aren't supposed to be, in the way only normal people should.

You're supposed to care about people, yes, but not love them.

If a jujutsu falls in love with a normal person, you can imagine your grandmother saying, they're bound to fail.

But you're young and in love, and isn't everyone supposed to feel this at least once?

"I love you."

On the TV behind you, a dying woman confesses to a man she's loved half her life. It's a noontime drama, an old soap being replayed. It's one of the classics, you've heard. It's one of those shows that people come back to when you want a good cry. But you're not familiar with it, not at all. Four years in Tokyo and you still don't think you've grown accustomed to this place and its people yet.

You look at the plants in this space, this home, and think you're like them. You've been uprooted and placed somewhere else. You're like a weed that grows where the wind carried them; and Tatsuya is the plant you've attached yourself to. Weeds can grow anywhere else, but they grow better when they're around flowering plants. They're decidedly pests, and they ought to be removed. You look at the plants and imagine what it'd be like if they became cursed.

Curses are like weeds in a garden, they will always exist, and you sorcerers are the ones responsible for pulling them out.

You look at the plants, and wonder how Tatsuya made them bloom. The violets near the sink have fewer and fewer blossoms with each season. The chrysanthemums have become dull. The carnations have begun to wilt. The morning glory doesn't bloom anymore. And the anemone refuses to grow any taller. You think it's because he's always had a talent for life, for growth, and with him gone, it's... It's like they've refused to blossom altogether.

You look at the plants and think they've become stagnant and stubborn, just like you.

It's been six days since you've begun actively searching for the Jorogumo, spending night after night in the many clubs and bars of Yokohama. You wait for hours and hours, scouring many different places for any sign of it. But it's a difficult task, and the Jorogumo that haunts Yokohama might be a Grade 1, which is obviously out of your skill range. You've come across many a cursed spirit since you came here, and you've exorcised a fair amount of them, but they just keep coming.

"Curses are like babies. People just keep popping them out, don't they?"

You remember Satoru telling you that, two days earlier.

You're both standing on the rooftop of a tall building. The city skyline of Yokohama is pretty at night, with the lights of the buildings twinkle in the dark water. You just came out of a club then, and it was still early, and you two crossed paths. Him, with many bags of food items and souvenirs. You, with a buzzing feeling in your head and a steadily growing frustration.

"You should sober up first, kouhai."

He called you his junior because you are, and it doesn't matter that you're twenty-four and he's twenty-five and you've met outside the school setting. In the jujutsu world, you think everyone can be regarded his junior. Everyone else is below him, anyway.

"Don't puke on me, you hear?"

The next thing you know, you're both out of the streets and on top of a quiet building.

"Senpai–"

And before you realized he had the absolute game-changing ability to teleport, you vomit all over the floor. It's a sickening feeling, all hot and sour and dirty. Maybe you should have not participated in a drinking game. Maybe you should have just kept to yourself and waited for a sign of the Jorogumo. Maybe you should have started to look somewhere else. Maybe you should have forgotten about your pride and ego, and asked for his help earlier.

Now you're trying to spit out that hot, sour taste in your mouth, and thinking he might find you disgusting then. You've never puked before, not after a night of drinks, so why did this happen? Why now and not when Tatsuya was still alive? You don't think Tatsuya would judge you for it, he's too caring and too loving, but and guilt you'd feel in your sour stomach would be very different.

You look at Satoru's covered eyes and think he's going to laugh at you.

"Sheesh, that's going to be a pain to clean up."

But he doesn't. If anything, you think he's trying to make you laugh.

What a great senior, huh?

You pant and heave, but the sour taste won't leave your mouth. You want to brush your teeth. You want to go home and brush your teeth, clean out the taste of bile and the embarrassment you feel.

He offers a can of soda right in front of your bowed head and says, "Just to get the taste off."

You don't think he'd care about you this way, but he is your senior and he is looking out for you.

"What senior would I be if I didn't care the least bit about my juniors?"

That's what he said.

So you take the can and drink. It's strawberry soda. It's still cold. It's sweet and tart, and it works.

"Thank you, senpai."

He shrugs.

"Buy me another when you're better."

Eventually, you turn away from the vomit and towards the city. Your head starts to clear, and you're starting to feel tired. You wonder if he'd teleport you to the place you're staying, if you asked. You haven't even asked about that ability, if it was just one of the quirks of having Limitless. And maybe you should ask him now, as he eats a slice of cake from a pastry box.

You think he has some appetite for eating such a sweet thing after seeing you puke.

"Senpai–"

You want to ask that question that's been bugging you, but he beats you to it with the answer.

"Curses are like babies. People just keep popping them out, don't they?"

It's as if Limitless has granted him the ability to read minds, or perhaps this was the Six Eyes? Still, you wonder how he could think that way. It's vulgar, by any standard, but it's hilarious and candid, and you appreciate how he's different from everyone else.

"It's not people's fault, senpai. They don't know."

"And that's the problem, isn't it?"

You disagree with him. You don't think it's a problem per se, because people just can't help it. They can't help but feel, and because they can't, they can't help but feel negative emotions either. Sadness and anger are just reactions, all emotions are, and no one is sad or angry or frustrated just because.

"Is that what the traditionalists in Hokkaido think? That curses exist because people can't help it?"

You don't like how he sounds so arrogant, how he questions you like a child. But he is the strongest; is this how you're supposed to learn from him?

"People feel emotions, senpai."

And he hums then, like it was sudden realization about some truth or wisdom about the world.

"So if jujutsu sorcerers aren't supposed to feel, what does that make them?"

You don't like how he considers himself apart from that, from you. But there's a truth in what he says, a kind of platitude about how and why jujutsu sorcerers are the stalwart protectors of all humankind. They are protectors first, people second; sorcerers first, human beings second. You've read a folktale about this once, about a deity sworn to protect humanity from evil, but later on falls in love with a human woman, and eventually sacrifices himself in battle to save her. And to make things worse, the human woman transforms into a monster, corrupted by the feelings of love, remorse, and vengeance.

That's how yokai are made, after all.

So when Satoru asked that question, sounding like a curious child, this is the first answer that came to mind:

"Monsters."

You remember your grandmother reading you that story to teach you how love with a mortal corrupts and curses; the woman wouldn't have turned into a monster if she hadn't loved, and the deity wouldn't have fallen in battle if he didn't either. Humans are meant to be with humans, and sorcerers and meant to be with sorcerers, and that is the way, the truth, and the will of the world.

"What's the difference between monsters and gods, then?"

His next question startles you. You don't know how he came to that idea, but you have an answer for him. However strange and convoluted and potentially hilarious the answer might sound. It's an answer you have, an answer you believe in, and an answer you want to know how he'd react to.

"Love."

You learned from Tatsuya that it was the simplest and easiest thing in the world. At least for him. But for you? You and all the sorcerers out here?

When Satoru Gojo laughs, you think he laughs like a god.

Budai, the Laughing Buddha; incarnated, personified, venerated.

"Bingo."

You wonder then, if he, the strongest of all sorcerers, had ever loved before.

A/N: I love how I've characterized the honored one? But let me know your thoughts on this.

Some notes:

In Hanakotoba, the Japanese language of flowers, these flowers bear these meanings:

Violet (Sumire) - honesty

(White) Chrysanthemum (Shiragiku) - truth

Carnation - fascination, distinction, love

Morning Glory (Asagao) - willful promises

(White) Anemone - sincere/sincerity

Umi Nyobo - literally "sea wife", a kind of yokai that resemble human women, who prey on human beings

Budai - commonly known as the Laughing Buddha or Fat Buddha, is a figure in Chan Buddhism (Buddhism in China?) who is often depicted as jolly, humorous, and eccentric