Chapter 2: Meetings and Mishaps
Four months ago…
"I won't take no for an answer, child," Lord Thames said coldly, stroking his beard between two jeweled fingers, a gold signet of a siren visible on his left pinkie.
It was unlike the Earl of Graivmor to dabble in frivolities. Looking more patrician than an Edwardian portrait, his streaky black hair and coarse beard contrasted with the red damask walls and ormolu furnishings of the drawing room. In his youth, he had been quite handsome, but years of heavy drinking and cigar smoke had altered his appearance drastically. The earl now had a protruding belly, a thick neck, and tobacco stained teeth to his aging visage. More concerning were his steely cold eyes, which were attempting to drill holes through the back of Hannah's skull
On the eve of her twentieth birthday, Hannah had the misfortune of being invited to dine at Wasserton House, the official Thames estate. Her uncle, Lord Thames, seemed cordial enough during dinner, but Hannah suspected that the hospitality had been forced and, to her dismay, she'd been right. She was now trying to process some very troubling news.
Had she understood him correctly? She was to marry the Gojo family's prodigy and heir? Her? How absurd. There must be a mistake?
No, of course not, she thought disbelievingly. This is nothing more than a cruel, twisted joke.
But the presence of Cardinal Xavier Wrath, who had been sitting adjacent from her, donned in his usual red cassock, proved Hannah otherwise. His Eminence would only have been invited if it was of the utmost importance. His bones creaked from old age, as he adjusted himself to speak.
"From what I understand, a union like this has never been tried before," he said calmly, finding a comfortable position to better look at Hannah, the pectoral cross glinting around his neck. "Your uncle has gone through great pains to procure this arrangement. Jujutsu sorcerers are not easily swayed, you know."
Hannah opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, hesitating. The air thickened. The drawing room had turned into a sauna. The fresco of sirens hovering above her seemed to laugh. Her heart was pounding as the words left her throat.
"B-But what would the Gojo family want with a foreigner like me?" she stammered shakily. "I-I can't even manipulate Cursed Energy…Uncle, surely there is someone more qualified. More deserving. Cressida would be a better —?"
"Silence," Lord Thames hissed, bristling at the mention of his daughter.
Though he hadn't shouted, the hairs on the back of Hannah's neck stood on end. Her hazel eyes began to burn.
In the opinions of her family, if one had the gall to call them family, Hannah was essentially damaged goods. Born with auburn hair, instead of black, and hazel-green eyes, instead of blue, she bore the consequences for allowing non-sorcerer blood into the pedigree. As was the law, she was required to take the family name, but forbidden to become an exorcist, or train in the art of combat, doomed to the life of an anchorite.
Or so she'd thought.
His mood ever more dour, the earl gave an indignant huff and rose from his chair. Smoothing the front of his suit, he sauntered towards the liquor cabinet behind the many cushioned seats, opened its mahogany panels, and dished out an ornate looking decanter. Then, with an audible "shing," he removed the stopper from its opening and poured an amber liquid into a goblet. Bringing the glass to his lips, he turned to face his niece.
"Tell me, Hannah," he asked, his temper easing from the whiskey. "Are you still having dreams?"
Hannah swallowed what little moisture was left in her mouth.
"Y-yes," she replied softly.
"Are they vivid or obscure?"
Her stomach churned.
"I cannot tell, sir…Most times, I don't remember."
A lie.
"But you have dreamt of the future, yes?" probed Cardinal Wrath, joining in the interrogation. He looked pensive with his finger tips touching. "Six months ago, it was you who warned that a Cursed Womb would manifest outside the Louvre. We're lucky no civilians were hurt in the onslaught. Took six of our best sorcerers to subdue the wretched creature."
"That was one time!" Hannah sputtered, a panic in her voice.
"It only takes 'one time' to know you have The Sight," said her uncle darkly, taking another sip of his whiskey.
The girl couldn't bring herself to say anything.
Part of Hannah wished she'd never told The Association about the supposed vision, but the dream, or rather the nightmare, had been too real to keep secret. She could still remember the massacre as if it were last night.
Possessing no eyes, a white kabuki face reemerged from the marbled hallways, smiling evilly at her with thousands of needle-like teeth. Saliva dripped from its overextended mouth. The stench of rotting flesh mixed with ammonia, a commonality between cursed spirits, wafted from its breath. The Curse almost looked human, with its bipedal legs and two arms, but Hannah remembered the creature's thoughts picking away at the corners of her mind. They were the thoughts of a monster.
Must find…Must kill…Not one shall live. Not one!
It's only incentive had been to slaughter. To devour every last man, woman, and child, bones and all. She watched the predator tear their limbs apart. Their bodies, thrown about like playthings. Entrails covering the halls of the museum. Screams of horror. The deluge of blood. A maniacal laugh.
And those four vermilion eyes watching her from the shadows. A shiver ran down the length of her spine. It was always those blood red eyes. Every time.
"What about the Cursed Object they recovered from the scene?" inquired Lord Thames sharply, a cautious tone in his voice. He was oblivious to his niece's distress.
"Just as we feared," said Cardinal Wrath, his eyes growing dim. He raised one of his bony digits. "A single finger, hidden inside the corpse. Nearly gave the Japanese a heart attack when we told them what we found."
"Where's the finger now?" demanded the earl.
"We were unable to destroy it," answered the clergyman. "So we handed it over to the Japanese accordingly. It now resides at one of their sorcery schools…You know what this means, Jacob."
Lord Thames said no more, appearing to have understood the gravity of these words. He sank down in his chair. A heavy silence fell upon the drawing room. Hannah had only been half listening to the conversation, still ensconced in her nightmare. She hadn't sensed Cardinal Wrath walk over from his seat and grab hold of her shoulders. His grip firm.
"Please, Hannah. You are more valuable than you realize," implored the cardinal, the close proximity outlining his many wrinkles and beady eyes. "Time is of the essence. The jujutsu world is in dire need of you."
Hannah, feeling uneasy, looked to her uncle for what little assurance he could offer, but the earl was no longer focused on his niece. Whiskey now gone, he was brooding in his chair, deep in thought.
"We all are."
Four months later, Hannah Elizabeth Thames was wedded to the Gojo heir.
The nuptials had concluded for the evening and the newlywed bride was staring out the passenger window of a car, bound for Tokyo, her head resting on an outstretched palm. She attempted to stay awake, but the noise of the interstate was lulling her to sleep. It would be nightfall by the time they reached the school.
Mr. Ijichi, who had been driving the vehicle, adjusted his tie and glasses, prior to clearing his throat.
"Gojo-san would like to apologize for being unable to join you this evening," the man said meekly. He'd been sneaking glances at the woman from his rear-view mirror. She'd been eerily quiet. "He's been called away on a mission."
Though relieved by this news, Hannah couldn't resist rolling her eyes. She highly doubted that "Gojo-san" was sorry for leaving.
"When will he be back?" she asked.
"A few days, or so," replied the driver.
The car became quiet again.
Hannah sighed through her nose. It had been a taxing day.
The Shinto ceremony was so unlike its predecessor in every aspect. As a bridal gift, Hannah was adorned in the most beautiful uchikake, a luxurious wedding kimono made of omeshi brocade. It had purple wisteria blossoms embroidered on silvery vines, truly magnificent.
The shiny layers of fabric had been a welcomed distraction. Since that morning in the chapel, Hannah was trying her best not to avert her eyes from the floor, lest she caught traces of turquoise blue. At least, she'd been spared from having to endure the scrutiny of her "relatives" the second time.
Just when Hannah had extended the Sakaki branch for the offering, almost all The Association members vanished from the shrine, save for Cardinal Wrath. His Eminence stayed until the drinking celebration concluded, paid his respects to the Shinto priest who presided over the ceremony - apparently they knew each other - and gave one last fleeting smile to the bride before disappearing in a veil of light.
Yes Hannah thought. She was free.
But her elation was short-lived. At once, a sea of people queued up in front of her, eager to bestow their well wishes on the bride and groom. Hannah smiled nervously and bowed to each newcomer as they stepped forward, but by the twelfth person, she had already forgotten most of their names. Also, they spoke too fast. The English-speaking bride wasn't able to catch much besides "Omedetou" and awestruck gasps of "utsukushii."
Then, without warning, Hannah felt a pull on her sleeve and soon she'd was cajoled into an empty room, reminiscent of a sacristy, away from the eager crowd, but it wasn't just her. For whatever reason, both newlyweds were placed in the room. The sound of a large wooden door closed behind them.
They were alone now.
Just the two of them.
Time is of the essence, rang Cardinal Wrath's voice in her ears.
The butterflies in Hannah's stomach returned with a vengeance. If it wasn't obvious already, she had very little experience interacting with the opposite sex. She had no idea how to flirt, or what to say. Years confined to girls-only schools and convents were to thank for it. Instinctually, Hannah's eyes returned to the floor.
She waited for him to say something.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Three minutes?
Nothing.
More seconds passed.
Experiencing an extreme case of déjà-vu, Hannah slowly lifted her head to take a peek through her eyelashes, but regretted the decision instantly.
Handsome face be damned, Satoru looked as though he had bitten into a rotten lemon.
Soon as her hazel-green collided with turquoise blue, his eyes maneuvered like clockwork, studying the woman's every minute detail, his expression twisting from anger, to loathing, to boredom at breakneck speed.
Hannah's soul just about left her body when she noticed his pupils hovering a tad longer than necessary over her chest. A "tsk" of disappointment left his lips as he did so.
She was certain her face held no color. This was worse than embarrassment. In all her twenty years, the woman never felt so worthless.
The hazel eyed woman stared down at her hands, a band of polished gold glinted brightly, as if taunting her.
The pointlessness of it all.
It was a fool's gambit really, believing she'd be accepted by this man, by these people. Even her own kin treated her as a pariah, ensuring she remained half-in and half-out, but never wanted. All because her mother made the fatal mistake of falling in love with an American from overseas and gave birth to her.
This was never going to work, thought Hannah bitterly. I'm a naive, blundering fool for believing it ever would.
Hannah clenched her fists tightly. There was a dull ache in her jaw when she pressed her teeth together. The ashen hue on her cheeks now held a slight purple tinge. She could feel the tears ready to spill.
Why!? What have I done to deserve this?! she internally screamed.
Hannah was on the precipice of having a complete and total mental breakdown, but just before she could release the first mournful sob, a patch of callused skin seized her chin. Her head tilted upwards, moving her whole body forward from the contact.
Her breath hitched. In an instant, their faces had become so close. Strands of gossamer white hair brushed above her forehead. She couldn't think of an accurate description for how she felt, her eyes transfixed by his cerulean depths.
He was everything and nothing.
"So, you're the girl everybody's been talking about, eh?" His thumb was pressed on her lips, while his fingers cradled her chin, preventing her from turning away, their noses less than a millimeter apart. Hannah could make out her own reflection in his pupils. A tremor rolled down her back. Satoru clicked his tongue again. "Yup, I think those old geezers will be pushing up daisies any day now. You're not at all what I expected…Figures."
He pouted.
Hannah stood there completely dumbstruck, her eyes burning from withheld tears. She wasn't sure what startled her more; Satoru cradling her chin, his blatant disapproval of her, or the fact that he spoke in near flawless English, albeit with a slight accent that she dare not admit was attractive. (So, she'd been right about earlier).
He had yet to remove his thumb from her lips.
For a brief second, Hannah contemplated running her tongue against his skin to spite him, but feared retribution. So instead, she wisely raised her shaky fingers to pry the scar-ridden hand away. With little resistance, Satoru complied to her wordless request, straightening to his full height as he did so.
He's so bloody tall, Hannah thought warily.
The top of her head barely reached the middle of his sternum, and she could tell by the muscular outline of his clothing that Satoru wasn't only tall, but built solid underneath the fabric. She studied his broad shoulders, eyes following the length of his bicep towards his elbow, returning to the familiarity of his hands. The same star marked hands she first spotted in the chapel and cradled her chin mere seconds ago.
Like velcro brushing against silk, she could still feel the traces of static from where his fingers caressed her skin. Every hair on her body prickled with gooseflesh. Her heart sang in a strange, yet repressed delight. Though it hadn't been loving, no one had ever studied her so intimately before, especially a man. His presence both thrilled and terrified her, and not for the first time that day, she wondered if they'd be expected to share a bed.
Breathe.
"Well…Well, you're not what I had in mind either," she retorted lamely, now free from his restraint.
"So she speaks!" mocked Satoru, somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
"W-What?! You were the one preventing me from talking just now! I spoke just fine during the wedd — "
"Psch, please," Satoru interrupted, as if wanting to gag. There was a humorless glint in his eyes as he rolled them. He pointed an accusatory finger. "Spare me that crap. You would've turned into a human faucet had I not intervened just now. Really, you should — Woah, don't give me that look, Princess. You know it's true."
A devilish smirk graced his lips. He was enjoying this.
Princess?! She hadn't been prepared for this at all. She hated being teased. Her face was on fire, but the bride couldn't think of a suitable comeback. She could picture Sister Edith waging her finger about the virtue of prudence.
An awkward pause settled amongst the two.
"Look," Satoru inwardly sighed, running his fingers through his oddly colored hair in frustration. "I don't know what the higher-ups are playing at, but regardless of who you are, know that I don't give two shits about this."
He showed her his left hand, a replica of Hannah's gold ring on his finger.
She was deeply confused by this gesture. Why consent to marriage, if he had no intention to commit? It's not like they could divorce. The "old geezers" Satoru mentioned would make sure of that. It was more probable that a Grade-4 Curse would win the Nobel Peace Prize before they'd be granted an annulment.
"You could just take it off, if it bothers you so much," she shrugged.
"You could just take it off," mimicked Satoru, unbecoming of his age. "You mean, you haven't noticed? The damn thing is laced with some type of charm, so even I can't remove it. Not without losing a finger, anyway."
Wait, really? Hannah looked down at her left hand and tried sliding the ring off with her thumb. Sure enough, the gold wouldn't budge.
The woman looked back up at the sorcerer. Satoru gave her a bored look as if to say, "See? Told you."
"So what now?" She asked feebly, attempting to hide her dismay.
"What…now?" said Satoru distractedly. He'd begun digging through his pockets, searching for something misplaced, until realization struck him. Lifting the fabric of his haori, he retrieved a single pair of black sunglasses, pitch as black, from a hidden chest pocket. Satisfied with his prize, he directed his attention back to the little bride. His brow furrowed once more. "The way I see it, I just spent the whole day playing dress up. Those vows, or whatever they had me say back there, didn't mean diddly-squat. You're not my prisoner and I'm sure as hell not your babysitter. In fact, I don't care what you do, or where you go, so long as you do me a teensy little favor..."
He fastened the shades over his eyes and bent over her as if to scold a young child. Glacial ice peeked through the obsidian frames, and in a clipped voice he uttered.
"Stay away."
And faster than the woman could blink, the white-haired exorcist vanished from sight.
Splendid.
"What an absolute nutter," Hannah murmured under her breath, now alone for the first time in what felt like forever.
However, the silence quickly became unnerving, and soon, the bride made herself away towards the exit, her wedding kimono swishing behind her. She opened the heavy cypress doors and ventured outside to find the shrine completely deserted. The sky was blushing with hues of pink and gold. Everyone evidently returned home for the evening, except for one straggler.
Looking like a side character from Men in Black, a lanky fellow in a suit and tie was waiting in front of a sleek Lexus sedan. Introducing himself as Ijichi Kiyotaka, Assistant Director for the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, he politely explained to Hannah that he was to escort her to the jujutsu school, which would serve as her new home. And without so much as a roar from the engine and a "thump," of a closing passenger door, the two sped off.
Now weary from the day's events, Hannah wanted nothing more than to soak in a long hot bath and remove her tightly wrapped obi from her waist. The comfortable leather seats felt cool on her skin and her eyelids began to droop.
Despite her nerves, the weddings had gone off without a single mishap, but the evening with Satoru greatly troubled her. The bride couldn't help suspect that his rude behavior was somehow her fault.
"Don't give me that look, Princess," she remembered him saying, looking incredibly annoyed.
But now that I think about it, I wasn't all that polite either, she thought sleepily, remembering how she'd been too frightened to make eye contact. I'd be upset too, if someone was too afraid to look at me and nearly cried.
Headlights from oncoming traffic scattered her vision, and the heater enveloped the car in warmth. Hannah rolled onto her side and tucked her hands under head. Her eyes slowly closed, and before long, the little bride slipped into the void of sleep, knowing she'd have to face those swirling pools of blue again in a few days' time.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
For this chapter's notes, please visit AO3 (Same name).
Tumblr: lovedrunkheadcanons
The official GTAW Discord server is on my profile page. Come join us. We'd love to have ya. (Might have to copy/paste the URL from the website and not app).
:)