Chapter 17: Reconciled

The time read 1:09 AM on the dot. A feeling of grim solemness cloaked the deserted streets. The decimated opera theater was cordoned in a shroud of response vehicles, revolving lights twirling red and blue. Reporters first at the scene had canvassed the complex, attempting to interview people and take photographs as ambulances were frantically wheeling survivors to the nearest hospital, seconded only by mortuary vans. Vested dogs were set loose, their snouts glued to the ground, while rescue volunteers and medics searched through rubble like it was a minefield operation, ordering everyone to be quiet when they thought someone was yelling for help beneath the wreckage.

Satoru stayed out of their way. He was silently cheering them on, but had already scanned the area with the use of his Six Eyes. All the people buried underneath were dead and those that made it out alive beforehand would have their memories wiped clean, as was standard protocol. Probably not since the World War had the death toll been so staggering.

He found Nanami talking to two policemen next to a freight truck unloading an excavator. The salaryman's hair looked a little unkempt and his cleaver knife was dripping with blood, but Satoru didn't care. He stomped right over, fuming.

"Shit, Nanami, I've been looking everywhere. Where the hell have you been?"

"I appreciate your time, officers," Nanami deferred to the sergeants, keeping his tone professional. "That'll be all for now."

The two officers nodded and raced to assist their fellow service men and women. Nanami held his silence and fixed his eyes upon the rows of emergency vehicles lining the tapped-off street. Satoru followed his gaze and saw he was looking at Hannah, sitting out the back end of an ambulance, the Yamazaki siblings nestled on either side of her. Someone had given them blankets to stay warm. The three of them were quietly observing the rescue efforts. Her belongings were piled in her lap and her feet were still barefoot.

"How is she doing?"

Satoru's anger towards his comrade cooled to a low simmer. "Fine, I guess," he sighed. "Good but not great. You know how it is."

"Any injuries?"

"A few scrapes here and there, but overall nothing life threatening."

"Who're the kids?"

Satoru glanced back at the two children huddled in blankets next to his wife.

"Stowaways," he replied. "She found them when we got separated in the Domain."

Nanami turned around to issue him a condescending look. "You got separated?"

Satoru scowled and massaged his soar eyelids. "Hey, it's a long fucking story, alright? The Domain ended up being a trick room. I'll tell you about it later when I'm not dog-shit tired and properly caffeinated." He was gonna drink a whole pot of coffee when he got home. His head ached like the dickens.

Nanami let out a long sigh and loosened the bow tie around his neck. He brought his cleaver knife to inspect the damage. "Sorry I wasn't able to talk earlier. Got myself in a bit of an…altercation."

"Sheesh, no kidding." Satoru scrutinized the bloody knife. "What, some fanboys wanted your autograph or something?"

"Suppose you could say that," Nanami said with a shrug. The knife made a shing when he repositioned it in his grasp. "Though, I gave them a bit more than my autograph."

"You killed them?"

"No," Nanami huffed. "They'll be treated for their injuries and taken in for questioning. I have a feeling they're connected to the attack somehow."

"What, this?!" Satoru pointed to the destroyed theater. "You're shitting me."

"Two random goons assault me at an exclusive event, and a special-grade curse suddenly pops out of nowhere? That doesn't sound odd to you?"

Satoru shrugged. "No. Not really."

"Think, Satoru. What were we planning to discuss tonight?"

"The investigation regarding Hannah's attack two months ago."

Nanami gave a curt nod. "Precisely."

Satoru waited a beat, trying to think. "Um…okay, so what does that have to do with this again? I missed it."

Nanami heaved another exhausted sigh and wiped his glasses down his unwrinkled shirt. "As of now, nothing. But the two goons I took down began following me soon as I entered the theater. I thought nothing of them initially, thinking they were just a couple of waiters making their rounds, until I saw them communicating through earpieces. That's when I knew something was off."

Gojo cocked his head. "Why didn't you alert the others? Utahime and Shoko were already there."

"It's a party. You bump into the same people all the time. I had to be sure it was really me they were after. So I waded around a bit and after three full laps, I went upstairs to the gardens. As I thought, the two losers followed and that's when we," he nodded to the knife in his hand, "exchangedpleasantries."

Satoru raised his hands. "Hold up. I thought you said this was connected to the curse att — "

"Let me finish!" Nanami seethed, letting slip a few irritated grumbles before going back to his story. "While up on the roof, the goons stupidly revealed their motive. They were wanting to steal my phone."

"You're phone? Why would they want your crummy 'ole phone?"

Nanami's eyes flared heatedly. His phone was neither crummy nor old. "Do you realize how much personal information is stored in a cell phone nowadays, Satoru? All anyone would have to do is guess a few lucky numbers and immediately have access to all your messages, your credit card purchases, what websites you've visited, the whole gambit. There's a reason cell phones are sought after when apprehending a suspect. They're like evidential gold mines."

"Alright, alright, I get it," Satoru relented, batting the air as though it would dispel his faux pas. "You don't have to talk down to me. I'm caffeine deprived, not stupid."

"Someone wants information on Hannah, and is going through great lengths to obtain it," Nanami continued, gripping his chin between his fingers analytically. "They must've known I had been roped into her investigation a few weeks ago, and tried apprehending my phone at a time I'd least expect it, meaning there has to be a mole feeding them intel. The loss of human life doesn't seem to deter them either. They want to make as much noise as possible. Get our attention. Raise hell."

The Six Eyes wielder began picking his ear boredly as his comrade rambled. "I still don't see how this is all related..."

"Satoru," Nanami said sternly. "You and Hannah were the only ones trapped inside the curse's Domain."

"No, not true," Satoru quipped. "There were also the kids."

The salaryman exhaled. "Fair enough, but so far there have been no other living witnesses showing symptoms of Domain exposure. The dead will require autospies of course, but as of now it's just the four of you. It doesn't help that you admitted to getting separated either, and knowing the curse was one of Sukuna's finger bearers is also troubling. It could mean he…" Nanami paused. "No, forget it. We'll wait for more evidence before drawing more conclusions."

"Conclusions? What conclusions?" Satoru said this moronically as though the salaryman were speaking in riddles, but feared he already knew the answer. Not counting the kids, revealing he and Hannah had been the only two living escapees made the bolts tighten in his chest. He couldn't deny it any longer. Hannah was being repeatedly targeted by someone? Someone with the ability to transport special-grade level curses from one place to another, including the backstage of a fully packed theater without anyone knowing. There was really only one person who could accomplish such an undertaking. But still. What would his former best friend want with his wife? That logic made zero sense. The Sight was triggered from raw cursed energy floating in the atmosphere. The amount of cursed energy increased when curses were being spawned, or when cursed objects, especially powerful ones, were beginning to unravel. Japan was never in short supply of those, but if Suguru was searching for Sukuna's fingers, or a powerful cursed object, why use Hannah to find them. The curse from tonight was a finger bearer. What good was it to use somebody with The Sight when you had no trouble locating them yourself? Or was there something else at play?

Is this out of spite, Suguru? Satoru thought. Are you targeting her to get to me?

"Still have that finger on you?"

"Yeah." Satoru paused his reflections and dug out the Sukuna finger from his pocket, purple and withered, like it had been preserved in a case of formaldehyde. He saw the revulsion show on his comrade's face and laughed. "I know. Gross, isn't it?"

"Idiot, stop flailing it around. You're an adult. Act like one."

"Chill, man, chill," Satoru appeased. "I'll pay Kumari a visit and have her reseal the damn thing. Haven't seen her and Ichiro in a while — Yeah, yeah, then I'll hand it over to the Council like a good boy, so stop micromanaging already."

Nanami rolled his eyes and looked back at the rescue workers and flashing ambulances. "We'll have a better picture of what happened in the coming days. For now best keep an eye on Hannah and be on your guard. It seems whoever is behind this is hiring non-sorcerers to appear less conspicuous."

Satoru blinked at him. "Non-sorcerers? That's weird. What makes you think that?"

"The grunts used no cursed weapons or spells that I could think of. Plus, one of them was carrying 5,000 in his coat pocket." Nanami let out a detestable snort. "A sheer pittance, if you ask me. Who keeps hit money where someone else could easily steal it?"

Satoru felt like he'd been kicked in the groin. The memory of Hannah slipping 5,000 in a random waiter's breast pocket resurfaced in his mind. They had gotten a good look at her. And he had let them.

"Tell me everything you saw, Nanami."

…

Hannah sat anxiously in the cab of the ambulance, watching Satoru converse with a serious looking man with ash-blond hair, holding a bloodied cleaver knife. Unlike Satoru, however, he was still wearing his tails, and his bow-tie and shirt were clean as swan feathers, like he had stepped out of the party for a casual smoke and found the bloody butcher knife lying there by happenstance. They had been talking for over twenty minutes, her husband's facial expressions eclipsing from joking, to confused, to…worried?

The Yamazaki siblings were curled in a blanket on either side of her. Kenta regained consciousness long enough for a nurse to hook an IV in him, but had fallen asleep on Hannah's arm, peacefully sucking his thumb. Meanwhile Hiro hadn't touched the carton of juice and apple slices the nurses had given him. He lied awake, eagerly waiting for news of his parents who had yet to turn up. They had been watching first responders carry the loaded body bags to-and-fro, having lost count after the number reached thirty.

"Those are dead people, aren't they?" Hiro whispered. "In those bags?"

"Yes," Hannah said. Another body was being brought out from the wreckage. "They are."

"Do you think my Mama and Papa are in there?"

"I don't know, Hiro," she answered and reached for his hand and squeezed. "Let's hope not."

A woman wearing a long white coat over her gown was moving from ambulance to ambulance. Her satin gloves were replaced with yellow latex and her chocolate brown hair was kept from her face in a messy bun. The makeup couldn't hide the heavy dark circles under her eyes which looked more pronounced as she worked. It was Shoko. She was collecting vials of patients' blood and offering her sympathies to the victims. It had been a stressful six hours.

"Your turn," she said rather cheerily, her eyes emoting something like relief upon finding Hannah with the boys. She held up an unused syringe and rattled three empty vials.

"What is this for?" Hannah asked.

"Safety protocol," Shoko replied. "We collect everyone's blood and send it off for testing. Helps us know whether your body is experiencing any long lasting side effects from the cursed energy. It's standard procedure. No biggie."

Hiro squirmed and hugged himself closer to Hannah. "I don't like needles," he whined.

Hannah stretched out the crook of her elbow for Shoko to draw blood first and smiled. "Surely after all that you can't be afraid of a little needle."

This harmless ribbing seemed to work. The six year old pouted but eventually outstretched his arm once Shoko was finished with Hannah. It didn't hurt so bad. The doctor was careful where she stuck the needle and gave him a green colored band-aid when he voiced it was his favorite color. She quietly did the same with Kenta, who was still asleep on Hannah's arm, and removed the empty IV on him shortly afterwards. At some point Satoru approached the group.

"We good over here?"

Hannah looked up. Her husband's hair had returned to its normal, unruly self; the gel no longer keeping it parted to one side. His dress shirt was untucked and his sleeves were still rolled, making him give off a haggard appearance while still being handsome. She had to revert her eyes elsewhere when she felt blood rush to her face.

"Sugoi." Hiro whispered in admiration, craning his neck to peer up at the sorcerer like he did earlier, except he had a better view of him now. "How are you so tall?"

Satoru smirked. He couldn't say he was a huge fan of children, but they were almost always fans of him (except darling little Megumi-chan). He patted Hiro's head and slipped him a sly-eyed wink.

"Thanks for looking after Hannah for me, squirt. I owe ya."

Hiro couldn't believe a real life superhero was holding a conversation with him.

"That's nothing," he said modestly as any six year old would and looked back to the sorcerer's wife for reassurance. "You should've seen what shedid." He didn't notice the way the woman froze. "Hannah healed Kenta's leg."

Satoru's eyes narrowed. "Healed?"

"Yeah." Hiro nodded excitedly, using grand sweeping gestures. "She shot gold light from her hands, vroom, and made the bad, purpley stuff go away, and then Kenta woke up, but now he's sleeping again. You should've been there. It was so cool."

Brow raised, Satoru glanced over to Hannah for more context. She dismissively waved her hand.

"Children. They have quite the imagination. Really, Hiro, whatever gave you that idea? You must've hit your head."

"Huh?" The accusation of treachery on Hiro's face was heart shattering. "But you…"

Hannah shook her head. "Kenta's leg was never injured, remember? We just thought it was because his pants were torn."

He dropped his arms. "But…what about the gold light?"

"Gold light?" Hannah chuckled. "Silly goose, there was never any gold light. Maybe we should have Shoko check you for a concussion. I'm growing concerned."

The boy felt as though he had missed a step going down the stairs. Hannah, who he regarded as his friend, was lying. He knew very well he had not hit his head and was not con-cursed (or whatever she said), but also knew no one would believe him. Hannah was a grown up. He wasn't. Her word would be taken more seriously than his. She had swept him under the bus. How come?

"Hiro! Kenta!"

The group turned to see an exasperated man and woman push through the throngs of rescue personnel. Together, they shoved Shoko and Satoru aside like revolving doors and pulled Hiro into a bone-crushing hug. Hannah too evaded these newcomers. No question they were Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki. Hiro and Kenta's raven black hair was the same as their mother's, and their brown eyes must've come from their father. She also noted the scrapes and bruises marking the parents' faces, along with their hand bandages, but thankfully the two of them looked healthy.

"My babies!" Mrs Yamazaki sobbed while her husband stood watch, tears welling his eyes. It was apparent to everyone how relieved they both were for having found their children alive. Kenta had awoken from his slumber, confused as to what was going on, mumbling about how hungry he was when his mother hugged him; The two year old wouldn't remember a thing from tonight. Hiro was crying as well. His parents were okay. He and his brother would not be left orphans. They were a family again.

"Thank you!" both parents cried, kneeling before Hannah and Satoru, foreheads touching the ground to pay them homage. Hiro had relayed to them all that had happened. "Thank you for everything you've done. How can we ever repay you?"

Hannah was rendered speechless to the point it felt awkward. She had never been thanked to such a degree and was fumbling on how to respond. Satoru pulled through for her.

"No payment necessary. We're just glad you folks made it out in one piece. That right, Hannah?"

"Um, yes," Hannah coughed. "Please, there's no need to thank us. Really."

"Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki," Shoko politely interrupted. "My name is Dr. Ieiri. If you don't mind, will you come with me for a moment? I have some papers you'll need to sign before we can discharge you."

"Oh, yes, of course," they said in unison and shuffled behind the jujutsu doctor to another ambulance. Mrs. Yamazaki still had Kenta in her arms, leaving her eldest son with Hannah for a while longer. Satoru left to reconvene with Utahime who was newly accessorized in a workers helmet and construction gloves, busily helping volunteers lift debris and guide survivors to one of the nearby medical stations scattered throughout.

Alone with her once more, Hiro looked up at Hannah.

"Why did you lie back there?"

The woman gave him a sad smile. "I wish I could tell you, Hiro, I really do, but I'm afraid I can't. I'm sorry."

The six year old peered down at his dress shoes.

"Will I ever see you again?"

Hannah's smile waned. It had dawned on her in the ambulance that the boy was sensitive to cursed energy and would likely become a fine jujutsu sorcerer or window one day. But that day was not now, so instead she knelt in front of the child, leaned forward, and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

"Take care of your brother, Hiro." Goodbye, you brave boy.

Shortly afterwards, Hiro's parents returned with little Kenta who had yet again fallen asleep, thumb lodged in his mouth. United as a family, the Yamazaki's bowed one last time and waved farewell to Hannah as they departed with an officer who would escort them safely back home. Hannah watched until they had made it past the street corner and could be seen no more. She felt someone nudge her arm.

"You ready?"

She turned to see Satoru, fists stuffed in his pockets, his turquoise blue eyes shining amidst all the rotating emergency lights. He too had been watching the Yamazaki's leave. Now feeling a tad bittersweet at their parting, Hannah nodded and followed her husband to the Rolls Royce parked on the side of the road. Mr. Ichiji slid out the driver's seat, peppering them with questions: "Are you alright?" "Do you need anything?" "Have you eaten at all?" Hannah tiredly assured him she was fine and slid inside when he opened the passenger door. Satoru climbed in the opposite seat, just as they had arrived.

Hannah sat all the way back, cushioning her head along the headrest. The medics had given her sandals to walk in and let her keep the blanket from earlier. She draped it over her legs and snuck a glance at Satoru, plugging his now working phone to a charging cord. She felt a pang in her chest.

"I'm sorry for getting angry at you the way I did. I didn't mean it."

Mr. Ijichi, ever the eavesdropper, rolled the privacy screen up. Don't mind me, I'm not here.

"Why? It's not like you were wrong," Satoru scoffed, changing his mind and unplugging his phone from the charger, slipping the device back into his pocket. "I'm the one who screwed everything up."

"But you said the act was involuntary. I should've listen — "

"Hannah," Satoru exhaled, turning sharply to look at her. "We both know there is no excuse for what I've done. If I were anyone else I'd be facing criminal charges for sexual harassment. End of story." He turned away and slicked a rough hand through his hair. "Shit, Utahime is right. I really am a terrible person, aren't I?"

Hannah felt her lips tug. "The worst."

He peaked over his shoulder. "Worse than a cancer diagnosis?"

"No," she giggled. "I wouldn't say you're that bad."

"Phew, good to know," he chuckled unethusadly, and reached across the aisle to fasten her seatbelt, pulling the blanket over her arms to keep her nice and warm. "Cancer really sucks."

Her eyes began to droop. "Yeah, it does."

"But you don't think I suck?"

"No, I don't think you suck."

"Even when I'm being an asshat?"

"Yes," she yawned contentedly. "Even when you're being an asshat."

Mr. Ijichi put the Phantom in drive and sped up the empty street, heading for the exit that would return them to the Gojo estate. Hannah fully closed her eyes and as she drifted off to blissful sleep, she suddenly had the most peculiar thought. How strange. Last she had fallen asleep in the backseat of a car, she had been by herself, newly married and dejected by an unwilling husband who had since turned a new leaf and had kindly buckled her seatbelt and tucked her in. He was there with her.

They were going home.

AUTHOR'S NOTES

For this chapter's notes, please visit AO3 (Same name).

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