Stay of Execution 1.4

One: they were undocumented Special Grades.

Two: they were (relatively) docile, according to accounts by Kinji, Yuta, and Maki… Corroborated by himself, of course.

Three: they were twins.

Gojo popped another jawbreaker into his mouth, extending his cursed technique just far enough to crush the candy before it touched his teeth. That… could have been a problem. If the two of them were intelligent enough (and presumably strong enough) to classify as Special Grade in their own right, then it was definitely a good thing they hadn't manifested as a singular curse instead.

Note to self, he scrawled on the impromptu report, signifying that anyone else snooping into his stuff should definitely read it, do not exorcize them separately.

The power to steal faces, and the power to steal cursed energy. If he weren't untouchable (his ribs ached at the thought before he shoved it further aside), it'd be a terrifying prospect to deal with face-to-face… if the techniques' respective owners weren't morons. In all honesty, he should have gotten rid of them.

It was sentiment that stayed his hand- the same kind that spared Geto those years ago, and the same kind that returned his best friend to the soil the day he assigned the two to Kinji.

There were months and months of cleanup following the attack. It'd take years to get everything back under control.

Usually, the higher-ups just needed him to handle curses. Sometimes… The problem that needed fixing wasn't a curse at all. It made him sick to his stomach.

He popped another jawbreaker, letting his teeth strain painfully against the hard candy just for the novelty of it.

Gojo found them wandering Asakusa in an uncanny imitation of the humans they were supposedly born from. No violent deaths could be traced back to them, no disappearances, nothing.

And maybe, just maybe, he was tired of measuring the worth of someone's life against that of another. Where had that ever gotten him?

Where had that ever gotten Geto?

He'd settled for threatening them. After seeing what the older one was capable of, extending his cursed energy to initiate a binding vow seemed like a bad idea. And if there was any part of him that genuinely wanted to be proven wrong, any part of him that wanted to believe that if humans could be monsters, then surely monsters could learn to be human…

…

…Well, he kept it to himself.

He dialed Yuta's number, let it ring, before recording a voice message. "So, how do you feel about a super-important, top-secret mission for your beloved sensei?"

"We're out of groceries." The younger sorcerer they'd seen some time ago (Yuta, was it?) who was accompanied by a not-curse explained to them.

"Mmm, I see." Nigi replied, cupping his chin. "What are 'grow-sherrys'?"

"Shut up, you sound old." Ara interrupted. "It's probably some secret sorcerer thing."

Nigi sniffed. "You ought to expand your repertoire of insults; you've called me old thirty-seven times this day alone."

"...Okay, you're ugly, too."

Yuta's face bore an expression of pain. He reached for his pocket slowly enough that the motion wasn't threatening and pulled out a glowing slate. The young man otherwise completely ignored their conversation before speaking back up. "We're waiting for one other person before we go, but he's a little late."

Ara scratched her nose, unintentionally pulling out one of the stitches affixing the mask to her face.

"Is it Ijichi?"

Yuta paused before responding, "Sorry, it's someone else."

"Oh." Even with most of her face covered, it was impossible to miss the disappointment. Something beeped on the slate, and the sorcerer spoke up again.

"Never mind, he'll meet us outside the subway station."

Nigi turned to regard Yuta, head cocked to one side. "Is that the function of that bizarre cursed implement, then?" He gestured at the slate, which was no longer aglow. "I have observed many humans utilizing them, but I have yet to discern the mechanism of their function."

"The smartphone?" He held up the device in question. "It's… communication, mostly. This is how I stay in contact with my classmates, even if we're far away."

The grey-skinned curse rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Remarkable…the sorcerer who forged them must have been talented indeed, for such a useful technique to be proliferated so widely amidst the populace."

Yuta opened his mouth as if to contest the point before evidently thinking better of it. Their walk to the 'subway' continued in much the same fashion, with him or Ara questioning human customs and the sorcerer in turn providing whatever answers he could.

"Oh right, I almost forgot," Yuta said, rubbing his neck, "my underclassman, Fushi-"

"Okkotsu, sorry I'm late." A new voice interrupted as another young, black-haired sorcerer approached. This one's hair was a bit spikier than Yuta's, somewhat resembling a sea urchin. As his gaze drifted from his upperclassman and landed on Nigi and Ara, though, his eyes widened.

"Wait," Ara questioned, "I thought your name was Yuta?"

"Ah, humans usually have two names," Yuta explained, "a personal name and a family—"

"Divine Dogs!" The stranger clasped his fingers together and fell into a low stance in one motion. Shadows rankled like waves at his feet, and Nigi found himself tensing to meet the attack in kind—

"Wait!" Yuta's cursed energy snapped, and everyone's focus was drawn back towards him. "Did Sensei not tell you—"

He could've sworn the shadow barked. "Of course he didn't," the newcomer snarled, "what even is this?!"

"These two are our mission." Yuta said slowly. "We're to accompany them on a supply run to see how well they acclimate to non-sorcerers in close proximity."

Nigi relaxed somewhat as it became apparent that violence was no longer imminent—though he made sure to keep a covered eye on the newcomer's shadow, which he could swear was staring back at him. Something Yuta had said stood out to him, though. "Did you not say this outing was about…er, 'grow-sherrys'?"

The stranger's face went through several expressions very quickly before settling on something he was fairly certain to be grim acceptance.

"Gojo sent us to babysit curses at Seijo Ishii?"

"He told you the store?"

"I- no!" The sorcerer ran a hand down his cheek. "That's the one he always wants to go to."

A few seconds passed, and the shadows at his feet coalesced into two canine forms at his side. Their hackles were raised as they eyed his every move, but beyond that, made no motion to attack.

The stranger met Ara's gaze, grimaced, and pointedly turned away. "...Let's get this over with."

[hr]

The curse who stole Megumi's face had to be dragged away from the sliding doors by its ear.

Okkotsu filled him in on as much as he could before they arrived at the store. Things, he frowned, that Gojo should absolutely have told him of beforehand.

Curses weren't supposed to talk. Not coherently, anyway. Neither were they supposed to press their faces against glass displays and fridge doors.

It seemed like more trouble than it was worth to keep them around, but if that was the case, then Gojo could've just killed them at their first meeting. Not encouraged… whatever this was supposed to be.

If Geto collected hundreds of curses, some traitorous part of him that he wanted nothing more than to shut up whispered, perhaps he wanted some, too.

It was stupid. And somehow, that just made it seem more plausible. Sure, Gojo was an unparalleled genius. A living legend amongst living legends.

But take it from someone who's known the man as long as he has: Gojo was also an idiot.

He accounted for the curvature of the planet each time he used his cursed technique and made the appropriate adjustments to his calculations on the fly, but he also didn't know how to boil water until Tsumiki showed him.

The first time Megumi caught the common cold, Gojo'd convinced himself he was dying of tuberculosis and took him to Ieiri no less than four times.

And, on the first anniversary of Geto's defection, he hadn't realized he was crying until Megumi asked what was wrong with his face.

An idiot. Really.

So letting a pair of Special Grade curses roam free as long as they pinkie promised not to act like curses seemed exactly like the type of thing he'd do.

Just let Sensei handle it.

The dogs were on high alert— not just making sure the two of them weren't up to anything suspicious, but also making sure no other curses were in the area. If the situation was relatively stable now, then introducing unknowns was the last thing he should do.

Eventually, upon seeing there wasn't an immediate threat, their hackles began to drop. They were highly suspicious of the Curses, but he doubted they'd bite unless they got too close.

The white one looked like it wanted to wander off first. He swore he saw it stick its snout into a wastebin the second he turned his head. This was the main reason he didn't like to let them out in public.

"Do you feed your Shikigami like regular dogs, Fushiguro?" Yuta asked, breaking the silence. The two curses conversed idly in the background about something he decided he was happier not knowing about.

"...Tsumiki did," he answered after a moment. He never saw the point in it. She couldn't see them the way he could, but she was convinced they liked the attention.

It wasn't like he could ask her more about it now.

"We could try getting them something, if you want." Yuta's hand rose slightly, indirectly showing off Rika's ring. "I know Rika doesn't need to eat, but I like to think she appreciates the gesture."

Megumi's brow furrowed, glancing between the black dog, who was dutifully watching the pair of curses, and the white dog, who'd stuffed his head in between the shelves in search of god knows what.

He sighed. "Why not? It's Gojo's money, not mine."

Thankfully, nobody noticed the floating produce when the curses started comparing different vegetables.

It wasn't too different from shopping with Gojo in the end, except Gojo didn't have the excuse of being a few weeks old to justify his behavior.

And that was another thing. Curses weren't meant to be human. So why were they pretending?

Did they just… not know better?

Would they one day decide humans weren't worth it, and start acting out in accordance with their nature?

They still had some time to kill after the fact, so the two of them (plus a pair of curses and dogs, respectively) sat by a bench overlooking a fountain.

Whatever dog stuff he'd put in the cart—some kind of imitation bacon—came in a resealable bag. Tearing open the lid released a god awful smell.

"Hey." Megumi beckoned.

The black dog, head resting on its paws, blinked up at him. The other came bounding over.

"Do they have names?" Wondered one of the curses—the one wearing his face.

Do you? He wanted to respond. Except they did. Instead: "They're the Divine Dogs."

"Cool."

"To my ear, that sounds to be a title or designation," Nigi opined, "not a name."

He frowned. "They're Shikigami," he explained, then elaborated, "they've been passed down. Maybe their original owners might've given them one."

He wouldn't know either way.

It was unsettling to hear his own voice hum, and even more so to watch his own body flop against the concrete retaining wall. "How about…"

She pointed to the white one. "You can be Egg."

The Shikigami in question tilted its head.

"No, you're not naming him, and you're definitely not naming him Egg." he snapped.

A fluffy tail thumped against the ground. "He's white and round when he's curled up."

If the Zenin clan could hear this conversation, they'd surely be having a collective aneurysm. One half of the Divine Dogs, summoned from a rare and highly coveted cursed technique, looked back up at him—as if bringing Megumi another one of Gojo's socks, or a half-dessicated flyhead.

Yuta's lips twitched up. "I don't know, I think he likes it."

Megumi pinched the space between his eyes.

"Oh! Might I submit a suggestion for the second hound?" Nigi asked, then, without waiting for an answer, declared, "Sesshoumaru!"

"I-" Yuta coughed into his elbow, "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" He asked politely, but the ear-to-ear grin and direct eye contact made it difficult to interpret as such.

Where on Earth did he hear that name?

"Your name sucks." Ara stuck a tongue out—something he doubted he'd ever done with his face— and reached for the bag of dog treats on his lap.

Nigi harrumphed and covered his mouth with a sleeve. "I wouldn't expect you to understand the elegance and sophistication of my naming sense, Ara. 'Cruel Killing Blade' is a perfectly suitable moniker for such a fierce Shikigami."

The curse in question pulled out a bacon strip, bit into it, and continued the conversation like nothing was wrong. "Yeah, your naming sense is unparalleled." she said. "In that it doesn't parallel with anyone who's actually good at names." The white dog (he sure as hell wasn't going to call him Egg) nuzzled Ara's hand, and after it looked down at the treat in the curse's hand, gave his Shikigami the rest.

He was being betrayed by his own dogs.

"Your name is so much cooler than your twin's. Don't worry about it, Egg." A small pink tongue darted out and licked the treat residue off Ara's fingers. "I'm like that, too."

The black dog—the one he was expecting to be reasonable—huffed quietly, staring unsubtly at the bag on his lap.

"Here, Sesshoumaru." Nigi beckoned the black dog, plucking a passing flyhead from the air and tossing underhand towards the Shikigami. A snap of jaws later, and the pest-like curse had vanished into the black hound's gullet.

The conversation continued back and forward like so, but one thought lingered in the back of his head like a leech that couldn't let go: Tsumiki would've loved to see this.

The Shikigami weren't normal dogs.

They didn't benefit from being fed. There was no reason to name them, or scratch their ears, or treat them as anything more than what they were supposed to be.

"I think it makes them happy," Tsumiki said.

Was it really so simple?

Yuta was smiling. The Divine Dogs were wagging their tails.

It was impossible to forget the two in front of him were curses. He didn't let his guard down, and he doubted Yuta did, either.

But…

He wasn't unhappy.

Content. That was the word.

It wasn't a sorcerer's lot to be happy. Nothing really brought him joy when he thought about it. But maybe moments like this, where things were just a little more relaxed, moments where he thought 'Tsumiki would love this—maybe he was allowed to have moments like these.

Ara snatched another bacon strip from the treat bag and downed it in one go.

…that said, he could go without seeing his own face scarf down dog food.

A box of green tea kikufuku flew towards the back of his head at a forty-seven degree arc. It hovered in the air for a little over two seconds while Gojo answered a text before plucking it from Infinity.

"You're insufferable." Megumi said. "Don't assign me a Special-Grade babysitting mission without telling me beforehand."

"So, it went well, then?"

Megumi's face twisted into the same expression of mild indignation he got whenever Gojo decided to loudly praise his student in public.

"They tried to name the Divine Dogs, and the Divine Dogs agreed."

"Oh?" This was unexpected. He spun around in the office chair, crossed one leg over the other, and rested his chin on the palms of his hands like a schoolgirl.

"Egg and Sesshoumaru."

He couldn't help it.

He burst into laughter.

After Gojo managed to stop giggling, he asked, "Do you want me to submit this update to the Zenin archives?"

Megumi gave him another look. "...Whatever." In other words, he should absolutely go ahead and do it, because he's the best Sensei ever and also objectively the funniest person in the college.

"Anything else?"

"It's in the report."

That must've been the notification he got a half hour ago. Whoops.

"So, did you have fun?" He pressed. Because hey, he was curious, and any excuse to not read a report was a good one in his book.

Megumi didn't answer, and instead left the room.

And wasn't that curious?

He was very vocal about his complaints, especially when they pertained to him. If he had a problem, or if there was a problem, Gojo would never hear the end of it.

That Megumi hadn't commented at all beyond the frankly hilarious dog names was an answer all its own.

Huh.