Satoru and Reimu floated above the clouds as the grounds of Jujutsu High grew small. He had to be careful. Flying this high risked surpassing his upper limit, where the air was thin. Limitless had many uses, but creating air from, well, thin air was not one of them. Reimu was still babbling on about her ability to fly and that she didn't need a turtle to do it anymore. He wondered how a turtle helped in unlocking one's technique or if it was some kind of clan euphemism for a specific training regimen or cursed tool. It was then Satoru realised that this was his first time flying with someone. When he had first learned to utilise neutral Limitless in such a way, he used it to escape training. After a while, it became a habit for him just to fly away when the world around him grew too noisy. He liked to bring his Gameboy with him as he flew, hiding in the clouds since the sun's glare proved a troublesome foe, even to his Six Eyes. The sky was his escape, his sanctuary, and here was Reimu in it.
"So, what now?" Reimu asked. She turned her gaze down, her fingers twitching with nervous energy. She only eats rice and drinks tea. A seed of indignant rage grew within Satoru, fed by the sight of the strong being so beholden by the weak. He had reached something of an existential phase in his pre-teenhood. He realised that all this senseless obligation to rules that should not apply to him was just that, senseless. It was all an illusion, smoke and mirrors meant to bring him into submission. He wanted to convey that to Reimu; for self-satisfaction or evangelical desire, he wasn't sure. "Think they'll forget about us?"
Satoru wished that was the case. "No, we're being tracked now. Anywhere we land will be swarmed with those weaklings. Gross, right?" Having had experience evading Jujutsu Sorcerers, he continued, "best we could do is find an area with a lot of cursed energy and hide there. The kind of cursed energy most weak sorcerers would be crushed by. It won't conceal us completely, but it'll throw them off for a while." That meant hiding next to a strong curse, but that wasn't an issue for him. If worse comes to worse, Satoru could always fly again, or Reimu could create a barrier. He wanted to see more of her technique.
"Shouldn't we go and apologise?" Reimu proposed.
Satoru pursed his lips. The very idea was like lemon to his tongue—sour, very sour. He preferred to do the sweet thing instead: "How about I make it look like I kidnapped you? The big bad Gojo forcing the shrine maiden to do his bidding?" Satoru added a "oOooOoh" for effect. "That way, none of the blame goes to you."
"No!" Reimu yelled, "What will people think of me if I'm easily kidnapped?"
"Easily? You're being kidnapped by me!"
"I can't go around with that stain on my reputation. I'd have to put more work into beating people up before they take me seriously again. I'm tired as it is!" Reimu pouted at Satoru with her chipmunk cheeks. She was cute as a button but testing his patience. And all this talk about beating people up, is fighting the only thing she does?
"You beat people up?" Satoru asked.
"It's my job to do that," Reimu said, "to keep things from being a mess." Despite her light tone, there was an easy conviction behind her words. She really believed it.
"How come I've never heard of you then? I usually keep up with what happens in the Jujutsu world."
"Because you're an outsider," Reimu said, almost deadpan, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. Satoru rolled his eyes, great another sheltered sorcerer. Outsider this, outsider that. Sorcerer clans only weaken their members by imprisoning them in the clan grounds before adulthood.
"How about this: we exorcise a curse as an apology. Maybe they might pay you a bonus if it's a strong curse. That sound good?" Reimu paused in thought before nodding. "Great, follow me." Satoru flew towards Tokyo itself, and Reimu followed. The ground below became a blur as the green of trees was replaced by sharp greys and curving asphalt. Then Reimu stopped. Over the horizon was a glimmering sprawl of glass and concrete. The clouds had parted, allowing Reimu a glimpse of Tokyo itself.
Satoru looked back to Reimu and then to Tokyo. Japan's capital was always a refreshing sight after dealing with the boring old-timey architecture of the Gojo compounds. It was a jewel of modernity, and Satoru liked modern. He liked imported sweets; he liked PlayStations and cars and whatnot. The relics of old folkloric Japan his clan overwhelmed him with had gotten dull, for the likes of the Kojiki were dwarfed by the considerably more entertaining Digimon. Satoru jerked his head back to Reimu. In a way, he almost pitied her. She was probably like him, locked in some golden cage, forced to read the same stories repeatedly. But the fact that she could fly as easily as him but never bothered to go out was rather odd. Her being entranced by Tokyo is very telling of that fact. It seemed that Reimu was duty-bound and lacked Satoru's disobedience. He resolved to teach it to her.
The presence of a number two, a sidekick, enhanced the high that came from Satoru's act of rebellion. So, he pushed his luck, "Come on, there's a lot of cursed energy in the capital." Reimu's reverie ended, leaving the country bumpkin in a state of confusion. There were many good spots to hide in Tokyo; cities were a den of resentment to begin with, and Tokyo was the biggest city of them all. Finding a building inhabited by a cursed spirit was like asking someone to find ants in an anthill. What mattered to Satoru was which building had enough cursed energy to hide them both. He spun around in the air, Six-Eyes darting back and forth for a good spot. The spin halted. He homed in on an arcade in Akihabara, emanating a pillar of cursed energy. He called out to Reimu, but she didn't hear. Satoru grabbed Reimu's hand and flew down. He made sure their flight down was discreet, but on the off chance they were witnessed, that was Jujutsu HQ's problem to deal with, not his.
OPER/BLUE EYES/VLDVSTKHQV055/AUMSHIN-
The recon report ended at the second line as a hired observer in the Tokyo area spotted Gojo Satoru's flying form, accompanied by another child. This was unexpected; the kid usually flew alone. Intel had practically mapped out the Gojo heir's whereabouts after a month of work alongside any nearby sorcerers. That meant knowing if the kid would have anyone reinforcing him should command decide to pull the trigger. The girl next to him complicated that. Gojo's psych profile wrote him up as the type to eschew bodyguards, period. Something about pride. Nevertheless, the OP was planned under the premise that he would be alone. But this was the Jujutsu world. Surprises were to be expected.
"Bearing two-one-oh. Descending. Grid 18M 108 085. I repeat-" The radio in the observer's hand garbled out a response. She nodded to herself out of reflex, knowing the voice behind the radio couldn't see it, "Garden, riverside south." The observer was not a sorcerer, but command gave her certain cursed items to compensate for that. It didn't change the fact that she was an outsider peering into an alien world. The elements that underpin the Jujutsu world were lost on her, and when Gojo and his number two flew unnoticed, she didn't know why. They weren't cursed spirits, so they should have been seen. Her team had tapped into the police network, and there was not a single mention of supernatural incidents in any of the emergency calls for the past four weeks, yet her intel says that there were dozens of exorcisms done in this city. How deeply hidden was this world? She shook her head; the observer wasn't paid to know these things; only her job mattered. The kid's bounty had soared over a hundred million yen five years ago. Now, it had crested over a billion. Come hell or high water, she'll have a slice of that fucking pie.
The radio garbled again.
"BABYSITTERS NULL. ALEPH PACKAGE ARMED"
The observer's eyes widened before she quickly but discreetly rushed into a safe house. Command had pulled the trigger.
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Satoru brought Reimu into a shrine with a garden by the river, sandwiched between two modern buildings that towered over it. The arcade was across that shrine, just a few skips away. Some of the Windows, those who can see cursed spirits, stared at him as he approached. This shrine was their base, and his unwanted entry stirred them to hostility, regardless of his heritage. It was a bad look for clan members to interfere with Jujutsu HQ's operation, and so brazenly at that. Reimu swerved her head around, curious, before deeming them beneath her attention. One look from the Gojo heir was enough to subdue those Windows into submission.
Exiting the shrine was easy, but the journey to the arcade was not. Already, Satoru faced a setback in the form of Reimu taking a detour to the convenience store next to the shrine. It began with the girl unabashedly staring through the glass, a rainbow of multicoloured candy assaulting her vision. Followed by her hand raiding her pockets for coins. It was pity that compelled Satoru to enter with Reimu in tow. It was pride that compelled him to show his credit card off, much to the girl's confusion.
"What do you mean you could buy the whole store with just that?" Reimu dismissed Satoru's show of wealth as some strange prank. Most of her focus was on the melon pan in her hands, wrapped in see-through plastic. She was in the midst of an internal war, debating whether to eat it now and pay later or pay first as she normally would. Satoru had told her that it was fine to open it up now, so long as she kept the plastic wrap to bring to the till. He had done it before. She wondered how anyone could know the food she ate based on the container alone, but apparently, the black bars at the corner of it had a spell that allowed this "cashier" the ability to know. But of all the customs in the outside world, eating first before paying struck her as the weirdest. She shelved that thought for now, venturing on the side of caution. But regarding methods of payment—
"You don't know what a credit card is?" Satoru was really starting to pity Reimu. This was the 21st century; not knowing what a credit card was bordered on primitive ignorance. It was outrageous the level of isolation her clan had put her through. It was beginning to be clear that Satoru was the hero in this story. Reimu was the Rapunzel to his Jia Baoyu. No, wait, he was mixing up those ancient stories again.
He waved his family's credit card around like a bladed weapon as if shaking it around would stir some sense of recognition within Reimu. The girl kept her blank stare on the card. "It's like a big purse. But the purse is the shape of the card. You don't know what a credit card is!?"
Reimu widened her eyes, annoyed and confused, "Why are you raising your voice?"
"You've never seen a—there are tribe people who know what a credit card is! Hundred-year-old grannies know what that is. How are you this stupid?!"
Reimu scrunched her eyebrows, "ok, okay, big purse! Big purse, small card! I get it."
"Honestly, you need to go out more, hikikomori", exasperation coated Satoru's words as they left his body. The Jujutsu world can be so cruel to the young sometimes, but total isolation…Cruel was an understatement. Satoru could see the influence of this "Hakurei" clan on Reimu, how too much effort was put on her ability to be a weapon and too little was put on her personhood. From the credit card thing and the whole country bumpkin act with the sight of Tokyo. It's all so rotten.
But the silence in the air left a vacuum that Reimu chose to fill. Arguments tended to be turn-based like that, and now it was Reimu's turn to yell at him. "I do go out! All the time, too much even!"
"Then what's a debit card?" Satoru replied.
"I've beaten things that would make your knees weak! My shrine's desolate for most of the year; that's how much I go out."
"Then what's a car?"
A flicker of cursed energy, a squinting of Six-Eyes. A white-pale hand floated through Infinity and grabbed Satoru by the collar. "I'm starting to think you want to continue the fight you started." Reimu threatened.
Reality bent to Satoru's will, a bright blue over his palm, "You shot first." Satoru replied with a smile.
Positive energy rippled throughout Reimu's form before it pooled together in her palm. A Yin-yang orb appeared above her free hand. Such a feat was not something to scoff at, but adrenaline had begun to course through his veins, so scoffed he did. "Pfft. I'm not a cursed spirit, dumbass." He said, "You trying to tickle me?"
"Rules first," was Reimu's pronouncement, "non-lethal, first hit wins."
Satoru didn't dignify her with an answer. Whatever happened in a fight was up to God. Satoru nearly laughed; he figured Reimu probably didn't know what Christianity was. The two stared at each other, waiting for the other to attack first.
Then came a guttural roar, fuelled by aged lungs, "Shut up! You two kids shut up!" A man, hunchback, skin made flabby and tan under the sun's caress, brandished his broom at the two children. "Take your fight somewhere else or else! You won't be the first hooligans I've whipped into shape with a broom. Scram! Scram!" Reimu and Satoru stepped back, as one would in the presence of a mad, frothing dog. Something about the man's wild eyes compelled these children into a sense of fear. He was a civilian, barking at the strongest sorcerers of any generation and winning. Air swept through the space of his missing teeth as his nicotine-ridden vocal cords stretched out with desperate abandonment, "Scram, you baby-faced, pacifier-chewing, formula milk-drinking cuntlings! Scram!" The two kids fled the scene as the shopkeeper puffed his chest up, victorious. He may not have known it, but this very act had saved his store from massive amounts of property damage.
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The quintessential dish to every white and sterile government meeting room was ramen. Instant Ramen. Ramen in a cup, laced with enough salt to kill a slug. That was what the walking corpse known as Kaori Itadori observed in her years in the Anti-Jujutsu Terrorism department. It was the perfect dish to enhance the already dull environment. The fax machines trumpeted throughout the office, alongside the ebb and flow of water-cooler talk and the tick-tacking of keys. This was where Japan's brightest sorcerers congregated to quell the three great clan's tyranny. This was the milieu which births warriors who keep public power away from private hands. The grunts that hold the breach against clan corruption. The enforcers, the regulators. This was government bureaucracy.
It was fatally boring. The instant noodles in her mouth pathetically aroused little to no sensations on her tongue, even with the spices. Kaori Itadori wouldn't blame anyone if they killed themselves working in such an environment. Were she human, she would've done so too. She considered herself blessed to have other things to distract her. The being that controlled her body was there during the heady days of centralisation when the Meiji Restoration brought forth an apocalyptic sea-change to a world of curses and sorcery—all done by mundane hands. But looking at the fruits of modernity now, the Merger would be a mercy.
"Ryouka-san's report," a blonde woman (avatar?) dropped a pile of paper on Kaori's side of the table. Kaori always gave the half-foreign woman a long stare when she walked away. The familiarity… some things transcended coincidences. Beneath the cold smell of the AC refrigerant was a scent of cologne. Kaori wanted to dissect her and see if her old ancient friend used that woman's body to interface with modern society. But alas, Ryouka's report on the Six-Eyes wielder took precedence. Agents within the Gojo clan had noted astounding progress in the kid's training. He achieved flight years earlier than his predecessors. A benefit of modern-day education, no doubt. Such things were difficult to conceptualise back then; nowadays, there were kids playing with the idea of multiverses of all things.
That was the way of the modern world. Ancient mysteries were unveiled with the cold, dismissive care of a surgeon before being solved with trivial answers. Thus, it brought forth new mysteries, leading to new forms of discovery. Man's consciousness grows, and life gets easier. There was a certain kind of beauty in it; Kaori respected new methods of discovering knowledge many non-sorcerers cooked up. In the world of science, adaptation was king, which resonated deeply with her. But such advancements came with a potential danger. The logical extreme of human evolution, of technological evolution, was a world hostile to any and all forms of cursed energy—the world of the recently graduated Yuki Tsukumo's dreams. The world Yukari Yakumo had warned of.
And speaking of the devil…Cursed energy flickered in one of the nearby Wireless Access Points. Someone had just tapped into the building's network. To most, this flicker would be invisible, but Kaori's fine senses were able to pick it up on it immediately. The phantom flicker jumped from computer to computer until it reached hers. A chat room opened on her screen with a blank-named user. Kaori smiled; she had always loved conversing with this particular minion of Yukari's.
Morning, Ran. Kaori typed.
No names. Yukari's shikigami replied. Assistance is required.
Kaori smiled. Of what kind?
Finding a lost girl.