Chapter 24: Kumari's Appraisal & Armaments
Kumari wiped the glass countertop with a dish towel, listening to the ticking of the clock. She wore an apron underneath her blouse and jeans, Rapunzel black hair rolled up in a braided bun. Business was slow for a Tuesday afternoon. Her husband was sent on another mission yesterday, and her 11 month old son, Kichiro, was upstairs in his crib taking a nap. Most of the morning had been spent rearranging the cast iron cauldrons, wands, and empty crystal balls, which were mostly kept for posterity (they did absolutely nothing). The swords, army knives, guns, and medieval crossbows, on the other hand, were the real deal. If there was one art form Kumari appreciated more than anything it was weaponry. Cursed weaponry, at that. There was no better dealer on this side of the South China Sea than her, and everybody in the jujutsu world knew it. That's why the sorcerer families continued doing business with her, despite the fall out between her in-laws.
Being a cursed tool specialist wasn't necessarily the easiest job, but Kumari knew she was top-tier. Just recently she had acquired a handsome yatağan, pommeled in bronze, dating back to the early Ottoman Empire. She had her eye on it for months. The seller didn't bother recognizing the sword's true value, or the high volumes of dormant cursed energy contained within its curved blade, talking to her. Probably belonged to a powerful warrior at one time. She got it for a steal. It looked nice mounted on the wall with the other swords next to the four-armed goddess Kali, destroyer of evil and consort to Shiva, enraged as she wore the slaughtered heads and arms of her enemies. Kumari grinned. She was rather fond of that imagery.
Samurai armor. French guillotines. A 1923 Tommy gun owned by Al Capone. Sometimes the tools she acquired couldn't be sold, either because they were too dangerous for society, or had been stolen and needed to be returned to their rightful owners, tucked dead in their tombs. Like a jigsaw puzzle, it was Kumari's job to gather the pieces and reassemble them.
Her favorite cases were always swords, be they katana, akrafena, rapiers, or her primary weapon of choice, the double-edged khanda. Ever since her parents signed her up for fencing lessons, Kumari knew she had found her vocation. And upon possessing a rare sealing technique used for cursed tools and artifacts, the choice had been made. Japan came calling, and when entering high school she said goodbye to her beloved New Delhi for a new beginning in Tokyo.
Jujutsu High was where she met her husband, freshman year. Their chemistry was instantaneous. All it took was one, quick glance and Ichiro was hers. They dated all throughout high school and university before tying the knot last year. She was pregnant four months later with their baby boy. With their growing family, the newest Chauhan clan moved to an accommodating townhouse in Minato City, where Kumari's shop "KUMARI'S APPRAISAL & ARMAMENTS" dwelled on the very first floor. Due to the nature of her enterprise, she had special permission from the Japanese government to sell illegal weapons. Only registered jujutsu sorcerers were allowed access.
With her two bare hands, Kumari had carved a comfortable niche for herself, but living in Japan as a foreigner wasn't always so simple. She still got stared at when walking down the street on her way to the market. Her mocha colored skin and long black hair were quite eye-catching. Ichiro thought she was beautiful of course. His family thought otherwise. Seemed neither money nor royal blood would do for the Kamo's.
The Chauhan dynasty, Kumari's ancestors, was believed to have ruled over the region of Sapadalaksha, located in present day Rajasthan where most of India's kings reigned. They did so for 600 years before the turn of the 12th century and later British colonialism. As a little girl, Kumari could remember her grandfather bouncing her on one knee as he re-dramatized the war stories of Prithviraj Chauhan III laying siege to Muhammad Ghori's forces at the Battle of Tarain. He would also recite to her the Bhagavad Gita; When Prince Arjuna threw down his bow, ready to forfeit the seemingly useless fight, till lord Krishna reminded him of his duty as a warrior. Her grandmother would be busy in the kitchen making dumplings (momos), singing traditional folk songs. The scent of curry leaves and chili would linger all throughout the house. She missed it sometimes.
The direct Chauhan line lost their royalty, but not their wealth. Kumari wore the ruby and pearl beaded necklace once belonging to Bhupinder Singh, the Maharaja of Patiala, on her wedding with a whole string of decadent jewels, and a lehenga designed and sewn by Sabyasachi Mukherjee. Although the Chauhan's kept most of their wealth hidden and lived by more modest means; ie, not residing in palatial houses with servants and priceless treasures, staying out of the limelight as much as possible. Both of Kumari's parents worked in academia. Her mother obtained a doctorate in biophysics, while her father served as co-director for the Department of South Asian Studies at a prestigious university, focusing on past and modern Indo-Pakistani relations. Kumari followed in her parents' academic footsteps, earning a bachelor's in Military Science and a master's in Weapon Appraisal after graduating from Jujutsu High, taking up sword smithing as a side hustle. Turns out she excelled in her craft, yet for all the expertise it wouldn't be enough to curry favor with her in-laws.
She blamed Ichiro's domineering aunt, Hatsumomo, the most. That witch. Kumari likened her to a Malabar viper, toxic to everyone she saw as indecent, which in her world meant anyone who lacked the right lineage. Jujustu society was very much a world of who's in and who's out, but in all the years she had confronted the Kamo woman, Kumari never let the old snake coil under her skin. She attributed the witch's bitterness from being overlooked as clan leader many years back, despite being the eldest in the Kamo family. Now she wreaked her vengeance as the self-proclaimed "leading lady" of jujutsu society, delegating what was and was not permissible. However, Kumari wasn't the groveling sort and refused to bend the knee. Her pride wouldn't allow it. The satisfaction she felt for wearing a heavily embroidered sari in front of the appalled Kamo's face still lived fresh in her memory (with a gold nath and chain). That was before her and Ichiro were married, the day he formally announced his separation from the Kamo clan, taking the Chauhan name instead. There was no turning back now, but as a wise man once said; when one door closes, another one…
The doorbell to her shop jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer.
Kumari's head flew up from the countertop to spot the world's strongest sorcerer entering her store. She smiled.
"Ah, Satoru. I was wondering when you'd show up. I expected your dandelion head in here hours ago."
The Six Eyes wielder ruffled his snow-white hair. "Sorry. We walked past a new flower shop and Hannah couldn't resist."
The girl in question popped out from behind her husband, cheeks noticeably red.
"We weren't in there very long," she insisted. "Honest."
"Oh, it's fine. You didn't make an appointment," Kumari assured, beckoning them inside. "Come in, come in." The couple walked towards her, allowing the Indian tradeswoman to better evaluate Satoru's little bride. She already knew the girl was English, if the light dusting of freckles, pale skin, and auburn colored hair were any clues. Plus the accent, which was still distinct when speaking Japanese, thought she hid it well. She was at least five inches shorter.
Kumari noticed Hannah's hazel eyes on the tiny dagger pierced through her right ear. Ichiro bought it for her as an anniversary present. Vastly intrigued, the Indian woman leaned closer.
"So you're the illustrious Hannah everyone has been raving about."
Hannah swallowed nervously. "R-Raving?"
Kumari dismissed the question and extended her hand. "The name is Chauhan Kumari. I specialize in cursed tools and weaponry. You could even say I'm the best arms dealer in the biz. Welcome to my shop." Her eyes redirected towards Satoru who quickly hid his hand behind his back, having been caught meddling with some miniature voodoo dolls sitting on a revolving rack. She pointed a finger. "And I've known this loser since he was a senpai of mine back in Jujutsu High."
"Your favorite senpai, might I add," Satoru corrected cheekily, shooting her a wide, cheshire-cat grin before thinking over what she had said. "Hold on, since when am I a loser?"
Kumari rolled her dark green eyes at the jujutsu sorcerer, paying him no heed. Hannah seized the opportunity to reach out.
"It's a pleasure," she said, shaking the arm dealer's outstretched hand.
"I concur," Kumari replied with a smile.
Bummed that his former underclassman thought so lowly of him, Satoru spun around on his heels, doing a quick scan of the store. He seemed confused. "Oi, where's that lovesick husband of yours, Kumari? I haven't seen him since Gion."
Kumari was back to furiously wiping the countertop with the dish towel, her smile morphing into a frown. "Ichiro is away on a mission."
"Wait, seriously?"
"Yes," Kumari huffed, less than happy with the outcome. She scrubbed harder. "Seriously."
"But why? Wasn't he assigned to Osaka just last week?"
"Yes, yes. Don't remind me, Satoru," the arms dealer fumed, raising her hand to silence him. "I've vented enough about it already."
Satoru sulked. "Shit, and here I thought I was being overworked. The bastards."
"He's supposed to be home Thursday night, God willing."
"What about the tiny squirt?" he asked. "How's he doin'?"
"Oh, you know. Lively as any other toddler would be. Right now he's upstairs, taking his afternoon nap."
"I imagine he must keep you on your toes," Hannah chimed, joining in the light banter.
"All the bloody time," the Indian woman exclaimed. "Especially now that he can walk and talk, but I wouldn't change it for the world. Motherhood has been kind to me." She placed the dish towel on her shoulder. "Though I understand you're not here for a life update. Fork it over, pretty boy. Show me what you did."
Sheepishly, Satoru took out a small cloth bag from his back pocket. He loosed the strings, and flipping the bag upside down, shook out its contents. Several broken shards of Stinging Nettle, the green silked tantō he had gifted Hannah, fell atop the glass countertop like coins, as did the wooden hilt, cracked right in the center. It was his fault. After excorcizing the curse from the opera and teaching Hannah how to use it, the cursed tool self combusted. He had been too rough.
The arms dealer pursed her lips.
"Chutiya," she cursed in Hindi. "This is the fifth cursed weapon from my shop you've broken this year. These daggers don't grow on bloody trees, you know?"
Satoru looked almost guilty. "Can it be fixed?"
"Of course it can be fixed!" Kumari shrilled, swatting him with her dish towel. "What kind of business do you think I'm running? A concession stand?" She whipped out a small microscope from her apron to inspect the fragmented surgical steel. "I'll have to weld the pieces back together and recarve the hilt from scratch, then check its cursed energy output for holes. By my estimation, the repair should take no longer than three weeks." She glowered at her former senpai suspiciously. "I expect to be well compensated for this, correct?"
Satoru nodded. "You name it, I'll pay it."
"Good. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Yeah. How much you want for that mean looking guy over there?"
Kumari craned her neck. He was pointing towards a wide-edged combat knife mounted on the wall below the katana. She mentally processed everything she knew about the blade. DNA results showed the black fur on its guard was actually the hide of an eastern lowland gorilla, a critically endangered species forested in the Democratic Republic of Congo. The two holes, or rings, punched in the 12 inch steel were meant to help distribute its weight when held. The hilt was wrapped in wildebeest leather. While imbued with cursed energy, the fighting knife was safe for non-sorcerers. It must've been very old, which in her profession upped the retail price. Excellent.
An imp-like smirk graced her features as she swiveled back to face the Six Eyes wielder. "Not sure," she challenged. "How much do you think it's worth?"
The game was on.
"Two million," Satoru said.
She taped her chin. "Mmm, more like five million."
"What?! There's no way it costs that much." He tried throwing a different number. "Three and a half."
"Four million."
"Okay then, three eight-hundred."
"Sorry, Gojo. Four million is my final asking price. Take it or leave it."
"Dammit," Satoru swore under his breath with a wry smile, already pulling out his checkbook. "Chauhan, some days I swear you're out to bleed me dry. You bargain worse than Mei Mei."
"Mei-san doesn't have a child to raise," Kumari reasoned, gladly swiping the signed check of 4,000,000 off his hands. She walked around the counter and grabbed the knife from the wall, procuring a case for it. "Thanks for supporting local. Your patronage is greatly appreciated."
Satoru wallowed in his defeat and lifted his newly made purchase from its case, flipping it side to side. "What's the knife's name?"
Kumari placed the check in the register, closing the cash box. "Slaughter Demon."
Meanwhile, Hannah had her eye locked on a lone wooden shelf situated in the corner, filled with books next to rows of paper scrolls and blank spell-tags. Satoru had been watching. She refused leaving his side and he felt he knew why. His hand landed on her head. Hazel met turquoise as she peered up at him.
"Hey, you don't need my permission, alright?" he told her. "If you want to look at the books, have at it. You're safe here."
"Thank you," she said quickly and darted for the book shelf, wasting no time finding one that caught her attention. Satoru chuckled warmly, observing her flip a few pages, close the book, then return it on the shelf before selecting a new one, fingers running along the paper bindings. Now that she was out of earshot, he felt free to speak.
"Is it ready?"
Kumari's face suddenly blanched like she was about to be ill. "Yes, wait here." She disappeared through a curtain behind the counter, soon returning with a mysterious lacquered box. She placed it cautiously in front of him. "Don't ask how it went. Had to perform the ritual in the basement. I won't sugarcoat it, Satoru, this one was worse than the first."
Unafraid, Satoru cracked open the lid. Kumari shivered.
Inside was the lone Sukuna finger obtained from the New National Theatre back in July. Satoru had given the finger to Kumari to re-seal with wax. It had taken close to two months, but the cursed relic was officially under wraps. He picked up the hooked finger that upon closer inspection seemed to be the pinkie belonging to Sukuna's left hand. He scowled at it. Hundreds dead because of this damn thing. Wordlessly, he transferred the sealed finger from the box into his front pocket. He would return it to Jujutsu High where it would be kept under lock and key.
They heard a small sneeze reminiscent of a child's. The two sorcerers look to see Hannah coughing and batting away heavy clouds of dust. Somehow, her petite stature managed to free a book on the top shelf yet to be cleaned. She appeared fine, but Kumari's mind wandered to a different matter.
"How is she sleeping?"
Satoru frowned. "To be honest, not that great."
Hannah's sleep schedule had gone from bad to shit. The Sight gave her no reprieve. The only good part was when they'd separate for bed, and Satoru would feel a tug on his arm; Hannah pulling him inside her room because she didn't want to be alone. The grief following Keiko's execution last week had not lost its grip. She needed him, and Satoru liked being needed. He liked planting secret kisses on her head and holding her close when the nightmares came. His own Sleeping Beauty in his arms. He liked it.
"Have you discussed her visions?" Kumari said.
"We're starting to," he sighed. "I keep asking whether she's noticed anything weird, a clue that another Sukuna finger will pop up. So far, there's been no patterns. At least, that's what she's told me."
"So she would know for sure if a new finger was set to emerge?"
"Mmhm."
Kumari leaned atop the glass counter again, staring down at the collection of knickknacks and magical trinkets, resting a palm on her cheek. "The Sight; a rare, involuntary foresight that is initiated by the amount of cursed energy existing in the environment during sleep. What a strange ability."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Satoru huffed.
"I wouldn't want that power," Kumari admitted. "Not for all the tea in China, though I do wonder. Are there other abilities associated with it? Telepathy? Mind reading? Hypnosis?"
The Six Eyes wielder shook his head. "None that I'm aware of." Although, there was a slight hesitation in his voice. Kumari sensed he wasn't telling the full truth, but wouldn't prod him. Her thoughts went back to Hannah.
"I can tell she's a sweet girl," she sympathized. "Perhaps even a little too sweet."
"She's tougher than she looks."
"You sound smitten."
She had meant it as a joke, but Satoru wasn't taking the bait and held his silence. Her green eyes widened a fraction.
"Oh-ho, I stand corrected," she quipped. "More than smitten. Well, I'm happy to hear it. About time you settled down with someone and made a decent life for yourself. Should I prepare to be an auntie anytime soon?"
Satoru smirked. "I wouldn't bet on it," he chuckled dryly. Kumari patted him on the back.
"Aw, no worries, dandelion head. You'll be changing diapers soon enough, just you wait. Then the real fun begins."
Satoru's eyes commenced to watching Hannah parse through the books. She had abandoned the dusty novel on a nearby table, too short to put it back, and was reading a different one. "No offense, Kumari, but that's the last thing on my mind right now."
Kumari gave a long sigh, twirling her hand in the air. "Fine, fine, you're right. But there isn't much to her, Satoru. A wind gust could probably blow in and knock her away."
Satoru snorted. "Has anyone ever told you not to judge a person by appearances? I said she's tougher than she lets on."
"Toughness doesn't count much these days. Strength perhaps, but not necessarily toughness."
"She is strong."
"Says you."
She heard him give a loud exhale through his nose, a sign he wasn't going to continue arguing.
"She has me, Kumari." Kumari turned to the world's strongest sorcerer as he said it, his eyes trained on his wife turning another page. She saw the conviction cut through those strikingly blue irises. "I'm all the strength she needs."
Kumari stared at her former senpai, doubting for a second he was really the same person who once saran-wrapped school staircases and unscrewed teacher's chairs as pranks, spurting practical jokes on the fly like he intended to make it a career. This Satoru was new to her. Not since Geto's fall from grace had she seen her friend act so serious.
Has one girl truly changed you that much? the tradeswoman thought.
They saw Hannah walking towards the sale's wrap, book in hand.
"Find something interesting?" Satoru said.
"I did, actually," she gushed, laying a blue covered book along the countertop. Madame Camille's Simple Guide to Enchanted Textiles. Kumari nodded in approval. A fine choice, and so she took the book and rang it up for them on the cash register. Satoru handed her the total in change, and once the purchase was finalized, the two Gojo's bid goodbye to their weapon-enthusiast friend and sauntered out of the shop. Kumari saw Satoru's large hand covet his wife's smaller one just as the door closed behind them, the besotted gleam in his eye. It was the same twitterpated look Ichiro reserved only for her, the look of a man hopelessly in love. She heard Hannah giggle at something silly he said.
Kumari hummed.
Therein lied her answer.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
For this chapter's notes, please visit AO3 (Same name).
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