Nadja and Maki stared at one another, barely a leap apart. The girl had all of that Zenin insolence and defiance in her eyes, but her posture was rigid and guarded, and Nadja knew what she had endured. She held her naginata with practiced ease, and Nadja tipped her head, her gaze weighing, considering. Maki simply glared back, her jaw tense. Nadja wished the girl would relax. All that tension was not going to serve her in the future.
"Well," Maki said shortly. "Let's get this over with."
Nadja allowed herself a small smile, and with a subtle movement, shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. Because she lacked any cursed energy, there was no shift that the students could feel, but they saw it nonetheeless. Like a sports car being turned on, the engine humming to life, Nadja's entire body was sudden leashed with potential energy. Maki took a defensive posture and Nadja counted her first mistake. The girl was good, possibly one of the best fighters of her generation, but she was still green in her skill, still weighed down by whatever shackles her terrible clan had placed on her.
Nadja closed the gap in a blink, and Maki barely had time to bring her glaive up, forcing Nadja to duck. Maki heard something like steel hissing from a sheath, and then felt pain in her hamstring as Nadja stepped back out of range. Maki briefly saw the slender, gleaming steel as Nadja sheathed it behind her, at the nape of her neck.
"Gnh…" Maki grunted, and then struck.
The battle began in earnest, then.
Nadja had to own, she had underestimated the girl at first, and she'd promised Gojo she would not kill or maim her, only test her mettle. But even she had to admit she was impressed. Gojo did not scout students idly, and she knew his Six Eyes had the vision his colleagues and superiors lacked.
Nadja made Maki work for every blow, showing her in her subtle way, the potential she had yet to realize.
To Maki, Nadja was a marvel: a seemingly unending arsenal of blades to use, and Maki counted them all as they appeared, trying to note where Nadja had even drawn them from. Butterfly knives, throwing knives, and wickedly spired shurikens; twinned short swords: a pair serrated, a pair not; thin, one-sided blades she'd drawn from her hair, one of which that opened up the flesh of Maki's cheek before she even realized she'd been cut. Nadja shifted seamlessly through these weapons without so much as a blip of cursed energy or technique, and Maki was something she had never been: inspired.
In the end, Maki had to admit defeat, though Nadja did not make it embarrassing, as the girl expected. She always expected to be shamed for her failures. It was simply the way of the world. Maki had mistakenly overestimated her ability to get Nadja on her back, not expecting the woman to take hold of the glaive's shaft, put it through her own stomach, and drag herself up. Maki watched, mouth agape, before Nadja hooked her across the temple, forcing her to let go of the weapon. Nadja slid her body from the weapon with a grunt, ignoring the wound in her belly to kneel over Maki and hold a dagger to her throat.
"You are one of the best fighters I've fought this century since Toji Zenin crossed my path," Nadja breathed. "And against any other fighter you would have killed them. But not me, my dear. Be proud, this bout is yours."
It had left Maki with more questions than answers, and Gojo supremely amused.
"So," Gojo said as he and Nadja walked the lantern-lit pathway away from the school later that evening, "what do you think of Maki?"
Nadja chuckled. She'd healed in the hours since the spar, showering and changing into more comfortable clothing. "She is a headstrong girl, but there are blockades of her own forging she needs to overcome before she can be the honed weapon you seek."
Gojo sighed. "She's just a kid, Hikmat," he said. "But you're right. Still, I want her as sharp as she can become before we consider…other options."
Nadja nodded, understanding. She had lived long enough to understand Gojo's reluctance to take that final step. She understood it all too well, actually.
"So," Gojo said as he and Nadja walked together. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you, and I want you to be completely honest with me."
Nadja eyed him suspiciously.
"You know I cannot tell you certain things—"
"Because of the nature of your Heavenly Restriction, I know," Gojo said dismissively, waving his hand. "It's not about that, it's about the night Sukuna incarnated."
Nadja blinked, her expression going from suspicious to pensive and confusingly curious. Gojo took a deep breath.
"The night Yuji incarnated Sukuna, I picked up another burst of cursed energy. It matched his almost exactly."
Nadja kept her face expressionless, and kept her breathing even. She knew Gojo was watching her from behind that blindfold. She knew what he was insinuating, and she worked to keep herself as still as possible, waiting.
"I went to investigate, of course," Gojo was saying, and Nadja felt her ears growing hot, and a strange ringing within them. Gojo kept speaking but Nadja couldn't hear him. His smile was as serene as ever, as if he were merely discussing the weather.
For the first time in ages, Nadja felt fear and apprehension seize her.
It was exactly the reaction Gojo was looking for.
"So she really is his daughter," Gojo said. "And yours. Not that I doubted. It's just…interesting. That would make her over—"
"A thousand years old," Nadja finished, her voice barely a whisper. Gojo clapped his hands together.
"So she inherited your immortality and youth and his…everything else?" Gojo was excited and curious, eager for answers at long last. He did not miss the sickened and worried look that drifted across Nadja's eye like oil on water.
"Where is she?" Nadja asked, and her tone took on a more deadly edge, but it wavered like a blade in untried hands. Gojo didn't seem terribly worried, tilting his head.
"She's at my place," he replied. "Well, she might actually be out working tonight. Sometimes she bounces at night clubs, sometimes she—nevermind. Let me text her."
Nadja's head was reeling as she watched Gojo happily text on his phone, even letting out a devious little chuckle as his thumbs rapidly tapped out a message. How had Gojo gotten in contact with her? How had she—it was too much.
"She's really something," Gojo was saying. "Like just an insanely powerful sorcerer. All of Sukuna's ferocity and none of his sadistic evil. And what a fighter. Fuck she's so good at fighting, like a goddamn maelstrom. It's been forever since I felt a challenge. Did you train her? She said you trained her but she also studied all over Asia when you two trav—"
That's it.
Nadja grabbed Gojo by the collar, pulling him down to her level.
"What the fuck are you doing with my daughter, Gojo Satoru?" She demanded through gritted teeth. "If you've harmed her—"
Gojo put up his hands and Nadja saw his genuine surprise.
"Harm?! I'd never harm Sundari, not in a million years! She's—" Gojo paused, and then looked aside, laughing to himself as if he just came to a realization. Nadja's eye narrowed.
"She's what?" Nadja demanded, not loosening her grip. Gojo took hold of her wrist and rubbed his thumb on it, coaxing her to let go. She did not.
"She's important to me, Nadja," he said cryptically, but there was a brief color to his cheeks Nadja did not miss. Gods above she was going to kill them both. "I didn't know who she was at first. Just thought she was a pretty girl at a rave. We danced, we talked, she was incredible…"
"You didn't…" Nadja said, tightening her grip again. Gojo didn't answer. She shoved him.
"Damnit, Satoru!" She snapped. "How long have you know who she is?"
Gojo sighed. "She told me who she was when her memories came back. She also told me not to tell anyone else who she was. Given the…politics of jujutsu society and the nature of her identity, I deemed it prudent to respect her wishes. Not that there's anyone besides me or Sukuna himself who can contend with her, but she'd rather not deal with the hassle. And I'd rather not either…just yet. I promised to keep her safe while we solved the issue of her father. She's agreed to lay low until things are ready."
Nadja sighed and released him. "That's awfully mature of her," she murmured.
"I know, right?" Gojo exclaimed. "She was ready to march up to the higher ups and deal some carnage—very hot, by the way—don't look at me like th—ow!"
"I don't want to hear about you and my daughter's sexual escapades!" Nadja shouted. "But…how much has she told you?"
Gojo rubbed his arm where Nadja had punched it.
"Well, she told me you left Japan before Sukuna knew you were pregnant. Then you guys traveled around Asia and Europe for a while. A while being centuries. And that you had her sealed to hide her…origins."
Nadja's jaw tightened in annoyance. She had not wanted Sundari drawn to this conflict but she was Sukuna's own flesh and blood, it was inevitable she would find herself here. What really bothered Nadja was how Sundari became unsealed.
"How did her seal break?" Nadja asked. Gojo scratched his head.
"We don't actually know," he said with a shrug. "She was unsealed at the same time Sukuna incarnated. Whoever made the seal must have put it in there as a binding vow."
Nadja cursed under her breath. She knew exactly who could have done it, and the bastard had been dead for centuries. Would that she had a necromancer's abilities. She'd raise him just so she could run him through. Still, somewhat else puzzled her, and that was…
"Why?" She murmured quietly, her expression pensive. To what end was Sundari's unsealing supposed to facilitate? Gojo didn't know either, but it seemed he had managed to do the impossible and tame her wild and wayward daughter.
"Well, we were hoping you could tell us," Gojo said. "But if you don't know…" He sighed.
"We'll figure nothing out standing here," Nadja said. "Take me to see her."
Gojo rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think—"
Nadja eyed him.
"I know things between the two of you were not the most…filial," Gojo said. "I'll take you to her but can you please promise to play nice with each other? Don't think even my place could withstand a battle between you and her. And she and I have fought."
Nadja raised a brow. "And you live and are unscathed? Perhaps she's finally gotten a handle on her abilities."
Gojo laughed. "I'm the strongest, Hikmat," he said. "Even she acknowledges that. Come on, I want to pick up some kikifuku from Sendai before they close. Then…a family reunion! Wow, look at me doing a good deed. She's gonna be so proud of me."
Nadja looked at him askance, her expression somewhere between mystified and disgusted. Perhaps her daughter had tamed Satoru Gojo as well.
Mount Shirouma, Hida Province, Japan, 324 AD
Sukuna had given up on trying to kill her, and Nadja no longer attempted to kill him. It became exceedingly clear that their exchanges had become romantic in nature.
This did not sit well with Uraume.
They had followed Sukuna unfailingly for longer than this casual dalliance should have lasted, and they only tolerated Nadja insofar as it pleased their lord. They suppose they had to count themselves lucky Nadja wasn't the type to flout her status around the temple. In fact, for the most part, Nadja was exceedingly helpful. Sukuna listened to her, and his moods were vastly improved for having her around.
That was part of the problem.
The other part of the problem was that Nadja's motivations for staying were unclear. She did not seek a title, nor did she press to be concubine or wife, something that baffled Uraume. Women and some men were always being offered for Sukuna's pleasure or displeasure, and while most wound up on the master's table as part of the main course for dinner, he had kept a rather eclectic seraglio. Still, since Nadja's arrival, he'd summoned none of the concubines he'd collected, content to carry out whatever desires he wished on Nadja's indestructible and all-too-willing flesh.
Yet Nadja sought nothing from Sukuna, treating this place as more of a waystation when it had meant certain death for so many others. Her lack of fear disturbed Uraume, and her lack of desires to yoke her with was the most troubling. A person who wanted nothing could not be trusted, and Uraume did not trust Nadja at all. The only issue Uraume faced presently was how to present their suspicions to Lord Sukuna. If he could not kill her or break her, then casting her out was the best option. Only then could Lord Sukuna continue his reign without distraction.
As it so happened, Lord Sukuna had departed on undisclosed business that day, leaving Uraume with instructions to have a meal prepared for himself and Nadja when he returned. Afterward, Uraume saw to the day to day running of the temple, ensuring it was cleaned, as well as Sukuna's quarters. They'd been passing by the great ornate doors when they heard a soft, retching sound. Curious, they peered between the space between, brows furrowed.
Kneeling over a bucket was Nadja, retching in what was clearly not poison nor a disagreeable breakfast. Uraume watched as Nadja leaned up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, before she pressed her hand worriedly to her belly, her expression, usually unflappable, suddenly running the gamut of worried and concerned.
Uraume shared a sly smirk with the darkness before making their entrance. Nadja reacted like a cat in a spray of water, climbing to her feet and securing her robe around herself as she met Uraume's calm and impassive gaze.
"Is there aught I can do for you, Lady Hikmat?" Uraume asked, their tone as cool as water, yet there was something in it that made Nadja bristle slightly.
"No," she said evenly. "Thank you, Uraume. I don't want you to feel the need to do anything extra on my account."
Uraume did not smile even though they wanted to. They finally had what they needed to get Nadja away from Sukuna.
"Oh, are you sure?" Uraume asked. "Your skin looks a bit gray. Have you been eating and sleeping well? Has Lord Sukuna not been a gracious host?"
Nadja frowned. "No, Sukuna has been nothing short of exemplary, as have you. His stamina is…well. I think I might spend the day abed. Can you tell the servants to keep it down while they're in here?"
Uraume resisted the urge to sneer but instead bowed in deep respect. Sukuna's lover would enjoy her last night of favor in his halls.
"Of course, Lady Hikmat. Rest well."
They left, and Nadja gazed after them, her expression pensive, eye narrowed.
That day, she did in fact lay in bed, exhausted beyond measure for the first time in her life. It baffled her, but she knew why. It was a phenomenon she hadn't expected, and one she knew was ordained.
She was pregnant.
It was a shock, of course, even to one as old as she. Not that she was pregnant, but that she had never been able to get pregnant before. She had been crafted for a single purpose, and unlike the other humans who walked this earth, she was closer to the divine roots of humanity than they. When she beseeched the divine, the divine listened and gave clear instruction.
For millennia, Nadja had lain with countless people, be it for business or pleasure, and not once had seed taken root in her womb. She needed no herbs nor tinctures or teas to remedy accidental pregnancy, she simply was not allowed to bear children. Her womb, like the rest of her body, had been crafted with terrible divine purpose.
And now she was pregnant.
Something in her divine mandate had changed to allow Sukuna—Sukuna!—to impregnate her. She had spent the morning emptying the contents of her breakfast into a bucket, repulsed by the smell of fish. She did not know what to do, for no message had come, only this, the burgeoning symptoms of a pregnancy.
What had changed? She had to know, but to make contact she would have to leave Japan, and unless her suspicions were mere conjecture, she was sure Sukuna planned to propose to her upon his return. She recognized the change in him, and not simply his lighter moods. The tender bend of his mouth when he looked at her, the way his scarlet eyes seemed to soften. The way he held her at night with both sets of arms, pressing her close as if he'd found something he wanted more than himself.
What had changed? The way her eye lit up when she heard him coming back. The way she laughed when he recounted his journeys to her. The way they argued about philosophy, traded poetry back and forth, and indulged whatever whim they chose. The way he made her happy. Never had Nadja chosen before. Not like this. She tarried and delayed, and now she was pregnant. Whatever they wanted, they wanted her to have this particular child. Her orders had changed.
She would have to leave. She would have to break both of their hearts and leave.
And that conniving little sycophant Uraume knew it. Nadja gripped the fabric of her robe and curled her hands into trembling fists, and chose to ignore why hot, bitter tears stung her eye and gathered on her lashes.
The dream was over, it was time to wake up.