A/N at the end


CHAPTER 1

{POV: Suzue Kujou}

Suzue slipped into a simple, formal black kimono, its somber tone perfectly suited for blending into the crowd that was gathering at the Zenin clan estate. The fabric was heavy, almost suffocating, but it allowed her to become one with the shadows, an unnoticed presence in the midst of far more important figures. Her mission that day was clear: avoid drawing attention, don't speak to anyone.

She would observe, memorize the names and faces of all the sorcerers who existed outside the Zenin clan. Ignorance in the world of sorcery was not just a disadvantage—it was a death sentence. Suzue wanted to be prepared when the day finally came for her to take her first steps outside these oppressive walls. She intended to be perfect, to absorb every detail, every scrap of information.

At least, that was the plan.

When Suzue saw the crowd that had gathered at the estate and was now streaming into the central hall where the meeting would be held, she felt a wave of dizziness. The estate, which had always felt like a vast, empty prison, was now teeming with life—too much life. Having spent nearly the last ten years within the estate's walls, she wasn't used to being around so many people, especially strangers. The sudden influx of unfamiliar faces, the overwhelming noise of chatter and footsteps, made her feel as if the walls were closing in.

She looked at the inner courtyard leading to the central hall and swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the stifling humidity of the day. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to retreat, to hide somewhere in the familiar shadows of the Zenin compound, but she forced herself to move forward.

She hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself as small as possible, a tiny figure swallowed by the sea of people. Fortunately, with her modest attire, plain black hair, and unimposing stature, she could slip through the crowd like an insignificant black shadow, unnoticed and unimportant.

She began to weave through the throng with careful composure, her heartbeat quickening with every step. Her goal was to reach the entrance of the main hall without attracting any attention. As usual, no one paid her much mind; a couple of times, people even stepped on her feet without realizing it. She winced but kept moving, determined to remain invisible.

As she moved forward, Suzue couldn't help but notice the crowd around her. "The average age here is incredibly high..." she thought with some disappointment. The assembly was mostly composed of old and elderly sorcerers, all dressed to the nines, as if their very lives depended on the impressions they made. They wore stern, grim expressions, their faces so tightly controlled that they resembled theater masks—cold, unfeeling, and devoid of any true emotion.

"What could be so serious to justify a meeting of this scale?" she wondered, her unease growing with every passing second. The tension in the air was palpable, an almost tangible force that pressed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Whatever had brought all these powerful figures together, it was clearly not good news.

The meeting would start soon, and amid shoves and stepped-on toes, Suzue finally reached the entrance of the central hall, where a long table with water bottles had been set up for the guests. She paused for a moment, looking at the hall's grandiose entrance and sighed softly, trying to steady her nerves.

The hall was as grand and majestic as she remembered, a reflection of the Zenin clan's arrogance. For centuries, they had sought to dominate the sorcerer society, and this hall, with its towering columns and intricate carvings, was a testament to that ambition. It maintained its ancient, traditional appearance, a reminder of the weight of history and expectations.

The first time she had set foot in this hall, she had been eleven years old, a small, frightened child carrying the fresh trauma of losing everything she had ever known. It was here, in this very hall, that the clan head had told her they intended to keep her within the Zenin clan as a ward. And she, in her innocence and desperation, had believed him, had clung to the hope that she might find safety and belonging within these cold, imposing walls.

Suzue approached the water table, her thoughts momentarily distracted by the mundane task at hand. "Plastic bottles? The most modern thing I've seen today." she mused, a small, humorless smile tugging at her lips. She picked up a bottle and tried to twist off the cap... without success.

Suzue Kujou:

Cursed Technique? Powerful.

Cursed energy? Impressive

Physical strength? Practically nonexistent.

Her lip trembled with frustration as she tried again to open the bottle, her fingers slipping against the stubborn cap. Maybe she should consider training her body along with her technique from now on. Red-faced, partly from embarrassment and partly from the effort, she tried once more, but her hands were beginning to cramp from the strain.

As she struggled, a shadow loomed over her, and she heard a voice that was both smooth and unmistakably teasing.

«Plastic bottles? Have these old relics finally realized we're in the twenty-first century?»

The voice belonged to a ridiculously tall man who had appeared beside her, his presence as casual as if he were lounging in a park rather than attending a highly formal gathering. His hair was a wild mop of short white strands, and he wore round, dark sunglasses that seemed out of place amidst the traditional attire of the other guests. He was talking to another man beside him, this one with a stern face, also wearing sunglasses.

"The sunglasses clan?" Suzue thought, barely suppressing a smile at the absurdity. She had never seen anyone wear such unconventional accessories in a setting like this.

As if sensing her attempt to retreat into invisibility, he leaned in slightly, invading her personal space just enough to be noticeable. Suzue's heart sank as she realized that the tall man had noticed her struggle. She returned her focus to the water bottle, determined to ignore the intruding man. If she just pretended he wasn't there, maybe he would lose interest and move on.

«Need help opening that?»

The man's voice was light, almost too friendly for the occasion. Suzue froze, her gaze fixed downward. She could already feel a bead of sweat trickling down her back. Her heart began to race, a mix of annoyance and apprehension swirling in her chest. Why did he have to notice her?

She made another attempt to open the bottle, her fingers slipping slightly against the cap. But the man, persistent as ever, wasn't about to give up so easily.

«Are you sure that bottle isn't cursed? Here, let me do it.»

His tone was playful, with just a hint of mockery. Was he... teasing her? Before she could protest, he snatched the bottle from her hands, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. It was such a brief, fleeting touch, but it made Suzue's skin prickle with discomfort. She frowned slightly, though she kept her composed facade, determined not to engage, to keep her gaze low and avoid any unnecessary interaction, especially with this insistent stranger. But this man...

"Why does this guy have to talk to me?" she thought, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. She had always been good at blending into the background, at avoiding unnecessary attention. But something about this man made it impossible to remain unnoticed.

He handed the bottle back to her, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. «There you go. No curse here, just a tight cap.»

Suzue reluctantly took the bottle from his hand, muttering a quiet "thank you" without looking up. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her. Suzue's eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape.

«What's your name?» he asked, his tone still light but now tinged with genuine curiosity. It was as if he couldn't resist prying further into her world. Suzue quickly averted her gaze, her grip tightened on the bottle, her knuckles turning white. "Just ignore him, he'll get bored and go away." she told herself, her mind racing with the desperate hope that he would lose interest.

But he didn't.

She glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at her, as if he could see right through her carefully crafted facade. She quickly dropped her gaze, hoping the brief eye contact would satisfy him.

But he wasn't done.

«You know, it's considered polite to introduce yourself when someone asks your name.» he said, his tone feigning innocence, though the teasing lilt remained. He leaned in just slightly, as if trying to peer around her defenses.

"I'd really rather not-" Suzue thought desperately, but she remained silent, hoping he would lose interest if she continued to ignore him.

But he was having none of it.

He straightened up, tilting his head as if studying her from a different angle. «You're not very talkative, are you? That's okay, I can talk for two.» he said, his tone cheerful and utterly undeterred by her lack of response.

Every second he spent focusing on her felt like a spotlight growing brighter, hotter, more unbearable. She shifted uncomfortably, hoping he would take the hint.

«...Or maybe you're just shy?» He mused, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

Suzue's face flushed a deep red, partly from embarrassment and partly from frustration. What was wrong with this man? She had gone out of her way to avoid attention, to stay unnoticed, and yet here he was, dragging her into the center of his orbit like it was the most natural thing in the world.

«Suzue!»

A familiar voice called out abruptly. It was Naoya Zenin, the arrogant son of the clan head, who never missed a chance to remind her of her place. He was striding toward her, his face a mask of thinly veiled disdain. «You're blocking the entrance. Move and take a seat in the outer rows.»

His tone was calm but dripping with condescension. Suzue had learned long ago not to react to his provocations; it only made things worse. She nodded obediently, stepping back to follow his command. But before she could take a step, the man with the sunglasses snatched the bottle from her hand again.

«Naoya! Here, I opened it for you. You're so weak I thought you couldn't manage it yourself.»

The man's voice was casual, almost indifferent, as if he hadn't just mocked one of the most powerful members of the Zenin clan. Suzue stared in disbelief, her heart skipping a beat. The audacity left her stunned. And now he was handing Naoya the bottle he had just opened for her, a wide grin on his face as if he had just performed the simplest of tasks.

"Is he an idiot?" Suzue wondered, watching the scene out of the corner of her eye. She used all her energy to suppress a small laugh at the completely justified but reckless joke. The situation was absurd.

Naoya's face darkened, his expression a mix of anger and confusion. His pride had clearly taken a hit, but he didn't seem to know how to react to such blatant disrespect in front of so many influential figures. For a moment, he simply stared at the man, his hands twitching as if he were debating whether to lash out or hold his tongue.

Suzue, sensing the tension in the air, knew she needed to escape before things escalated. The atmosphere around Naoya had thickened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, ready to explode at any moment. Suzue had seen that look before—the cold, calculated fury that often preceded a dangerous outburst. She moved quickly, her steps light and purposeful as she slipped away from the brewing storm. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in the crossfire of a Zenin's wrath. It was a lesson she had learned the hard way: when tempers flared within the clan, the best place to be was far, far away.

As she walked away, she couldn't resist glancing back at the man who had unwittingly brightened her otherwise grim day. He stood there, utterly relaxed, his posture almost lazy. His nonchalance was almost infuriating, yet oddly comforting at the same time. It was as if he were daring the world—daring the Zenin clan—to do something about it.

Suzue's lips twitched into a small smile, one she quickly hid behind her sleeve. It had been a long time since she had felt anything resembling amusement, and she wasn't about to let anyone see it. Not here, not now. The Zenin estate was no place for mirth or lightheartedness, especially for someone like her. But the encounter had sparked something within her, something she hadn't felt in years—curiosity. A burning need to understand more about the world beyond the narrow confines of her existence.

The feeling was unsettling, yet exhilarating at the same time.

She entered the hall quickly, leaving the squabble behind, and took a seat in an outer row, practically in a corner of the room. The central seats were reserved for clan heads and other prominent sorcerers, certainly not for a mere fourth-grade sorcerer like her. The contrast between the opulence of the hall and her own sense of insignificance was stark, making her feel even smaller.

A pang of relief washed over Suzue as she put some distance between herself and the heated exchange at the entrance, but the discomfort lingered. She had always been good at this—fading into the shadows, becoming almost invisible in a room full of people. But today, something was different. She could still feel the lingering gaze of the white-haired man with the sunglasses, as if his attention alone was enough to pull her out of the shadows she so desperately sought.

Soon, the rest of the guests took their seats, filling the room with a low hum of murmurs and shuffling. Naoya entered as well, visibly angry despite his attempts to mask it. His eyes briefly scanned the room, but Suzue made sure to keep her gaze firmly on the floor, not wanting to draw his ire again.

In the central area, to her surprise, sat the white-haired man with sunglasses. He didn't seem to belong there, with his casual demeanor and irreverent attitude. Yet, there he was, in a place of honor among the most powerful sorcerers. Suzue's curiosity was piqued.

"So, he's a big deal?" she thought, stealing a few glances at him when she was sure no one was looking. She wondered who he was and why he seemed so unfazed by the atmosphere that hung over the hall like a heavy fog.

The meeting began, the room filling with the voices of various clan heads and prominent figures discussing animatedly. Suzue listened attentively, trying to catch every detail despite the murmur of voices blending together. She was used to eavesdropping, to piecing together information from snippets of conversation. After a couple of hours, she had a fairly clear picture of the situation.

A Curse User had led an army of curses in Tokyo and Kyoto, wreaking havoc in the cities and directly attacking Tokyo Jujutsu High. The sorcerers had repelled the attack, the school was safe, the students were fine, and the Curse User, Suguru Geto, was dead.

"And yet, here we are..." Suzue thought, her impatience growing. "So, what exactly are we discussing?"

She couldn't understand why they were all arguing. The issue was already resolved, yet all these prominent sorcerers were debating, even fighting, over the whys and hows without reaching any productive outcome. The entire affair felt like a pointless display of power and ego, each clan head trying to assert their authority and wisdom, none willing to concede even the smallest point.

She had always known that the world of sorcerers was full of politics and posturing, but seeing it firsthand, so up close, was infuriating.

"These old men… They've been arguing for two hours about—" Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a voice that cut through the din of discussion like a sharp blade.

«—about absolutely nothing, right?»


{POV: Satoru Gojo}

He adjusted his sunglasses, letting his gaze drift lazily across the opulent surroundings of the Zenin clan estate. The grandeur of the place, with its meticulously manicured gardens and imposing architecture, was a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere that hung in the air—an atmosphere thick with unspoken tensions and rigid formality. This was a gathering of the major sorcerer families, a congregation of power and tradition that Satoru detested with every fiber of his being, even under 'normal circumstances'.

But these weren't 'normal circumstances'. The events of the past few weeks weighed heavily on him, a burden he carried with his usual nonchalance, though it gnawed at him in ways he wouldn't readily admit.

The pain of what he had to do was something he carried alone, buried deep beneath layers of bravado and detachment. This meeting, this gathering of old men and their outdated ideals, was a direct consequence of that action. They were here to discuss the aftermath, to dissect the events that had led to Suguru's death, and to ensure that the fragile balance of power remained intact. At least he could attend as the strongest sorcerer of the modern era and blah blah blah, the head of the Gojo clan, a position that afforded him a certain liberty in this suffocating environment.

The world of sorcerers was a labyrinth of outdated traditions, power plays, and hollow formalities, and today's meeting was no exception. It was precisely the kind of theater Satoru despised, yet he knew that to change the system from within, he had to play his part—even if that part involved enduring hours of pointless debates.

Beside him walked Masamichi Yaga, the principal of Tokyo Jujutsu High, his face a mask of professionalism. Yaga's presence was a necessary buffer between Satoru's impulsive tendencies and the rigid expectations of the Zenin clan. As they approached the grand entrance, Yaga's voice broke the silence.

«Satoru,» Yaga began, his tone carrying a note of caution «we're here just to present the facts. Try to behave.»

Satoru responded with a hint of sarcasm, a sardonic smile curling his lips. «Can't you see? I'm the picture of diplomacy!» His tone dripped with irony, fully aware that his version of diplomacy often involved ruffling feathers and challenging the status quo. It was a delicate dance, one that he performed with a mix of irreverence and strategic calculation.

As they moved through the gathered crowd, Satoru did so with his usual confidence and ease. His presence was commanding, impossible to ignore, yet he deliberately ignored those who tried to approach him, his indifference to social niceties almost a form of rebellion. He was certain he had unintentionally stepped on more than a few feet as he made his way toward the entrance, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Yaga followed him with a resigned air, offering formal greetings to those who approached and quietly apologizing for Satoru's well-known behavior. It was a routine they had fallen into—Yaga playing the diplomatic figure while Satoru acted the part of the maverick.

They reached the entrance of the main hall without too much hassle. Satoru glanced inside, mentally preparing himself to endure hours of pointless complaints and arguments.

As he surveyed the room, something caught his attention—a small figure moving quickly through the crowd, almost escaping his notice. Almost. But he had the Six Eyes, and nothing, nothing, escaped his gaze.

The girl, dressed in a simple black kimono, was like a shadow flitting through the room. She was careful, almost too careful, to remain unnoticed. But Satoru saw everything.

With the Six Eyes, he perceived the cursed energy that emanated from her, significant and at times oppressive, though cleverly contained. It was an intriguing contradiction—such powerful energy in a person who seemed so intent on being invisible. The energy itself was fascinating, dense and layered, like a tightly wound spring ready to explode at any moment. Was that... flames? He could see traces of it in her cursed energy, flickering beneath the surface, controlled yet potent.

His curiosity piqued, Satoru decided to follow her as she made her way to a table lined with water bottles. He watched as she reached for a bottle, her fingers wrapping around the cap. And then, to his surprise, she struggled. Her fingers slipped repeatedly against the cap, her frustration evident in the slight tremble of her hands.

Satoru found himself wondering if he was seeing correctly. Here was a girl who possessed a powerhouse of cursed energy, yet she couldn't muster the physical strength to twist off a simple cap. The disparity was almost comical, but more than that, it was intriguing: this girl who tried so desperately to be unnoticed... radiated an energy that demanded attention.

«Plastic bottles? Have these old relics finally realized we're in the twenty-first century?» he mused aloud, his voice cutting through the stillness around them.

He could hear Yaga sigh heavily behind him, no doubt resigning himself to another of Satoru's antics. But Satoru's attention was fully on the girl now. He watched her, trying to use the Six Eyes to glean more details about her cursed technique, about who she was and why she was here. But his thoughts were interrupted by the sight of her continuing to struggle with the bottle, her frustration mounting as her fingers slipped again and again.

It was almost painful to watch, and for a moment, Satoru hesitated. He wasn't exactly known for his kindness, and yet... something compelled him to intervene. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it was the fact that she was so clearly out of her depth in this environment. Either way, he found himself stepping forward, unable to resist the urge to engage.

«Need help opening that?» he asked, his tone light, almost teasing. He could see the way she froze, her gaze fixed downward, as if she could make herself disappear by sheer will alone. Her reaction only deepened his curiosity.

Interesting, he wasn't exactly used to being fact, it was quite the novelty. Most people, especially within the sorcerer community, responded to him with a mix of awe, fear, or at least a modicum of respect. But this girl, with her head bowed and her focus on the bottle in her hands, seemed entirely unfazed by his presence.

"Stubborn, isn't she?" he thought.

«Are you sure that bottle isn't cursed? Here, let me do it.»

Before she could answer, he reached out and took the bottle from her hands, his fingers brushing against hers. The contact was brief, but enough to make him aware of the slight tremor in her hands. With a simple flick of his wrist, he twisted off the cap.

The girl frowned slightly but maintained her composed facade. She was clearly determined not to engage with him.

He handed the bottle back to her, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

«There you go. No curse here, just a tight cap.» he said, his voice carrying that same teasing lilt

She reluctantly took the bottle from his hand, muttering a quiet thanks without looking up.

As he handed the bottle back to her, he couldn't help but wonder about the girl standing before him. He found himself studying her, trying to reconcile the girl who couldn't open a water bottle with the powerful sorcerer his Six Eyes told him she was. There was something off about the whole situation, something that didn't quite add up.

«What's your name?» he asked, his tone still light but now tinged with genuine curiosity. He wasn't just making small talk—he wanted to know who she was, and why she seemed so determined to avoid being noticed.

She glanced up at him briefly, their eyes meeting through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. For a moment, he saw it—an emotion flickering in her eyes, something raw and unguarded. But just as quickly, she dropped her gaze, hiding whatever it was she didn't want him to see.

«You know, it's considered polite to introduce yourself when someone asks your name.» he said, his tone feigning innocence, though the teasing lilt remained. He leaned in just slightly, as if trying to peer around her defenses.

The silence stretched on, the tension between them growing thicker with each passing second. Satoru could practically feel her discomfort radiating off her, a palpable force that only made him more determined to break through her walls. She was trying so hard to ignore him, but he was having none of it.

He straightened up, tilting his head as if studying her from a different angle. «You're not very talkative, are you? That's okay, I can talk for two!» he said, his tone cheerful and utterly undeterred by her lack of response. He knew he was pushing her, but there was something almost fun about it.

Her reaction was subtle but telling. She shifted uncomfortably, her body tensing as if bracing for something. Satoru could see the struggle in her, the way she was trying to maintain control, to keep him at arm's length.

«...Or maybe you're just shy?» he mused, his voice taking on a teasing lilt.

He could see the flush rising in her cheeks, her face turning a deep red, and he couldn't help but find it amusing. Here was this girl, with cursed energy that could probably flatten half the room, and she was blushing like a schoolgirl caught out of place.

But instead of answering, the girl quickly averted her gaze, her body language screaming a desire to retreat. He almost chuckled at the sight. It was clear she wanted nothing more than for him to lose interest and move on, but he had no intention of doing that. Not yet.

He decided to push just a little further, but a familiar voice cut through the moment: Naoya Zenin, the arrogant heir of the clan. Satoru's amusement turned to mild annoyance. Naoya was the embodiment of everything he despised about the Zenin clan: arrogant, entitled, and deeply insecure despite his outward bravado.

Ignoring Satoru's presence entirely, Naoya fixed his gaze on the girl, his tone dripping with condescension as he addressed her.

«Suzue! You're blocking the entrance. Move and take a seat in the outer rows.»

The way Naoya said her name, with that calm yet disdainful tone, made Satoru's skin crawl. It was a tone laced with the kind of superiority that came not from true power, but from an inflated sense of self-importance. Satoru watched Suzue's reaction, noting with some admiration how she didn't flinch under Naoya's harsh words. Her demeanor remained composed, unchanging, as if she had long since learned to weather such treatment. She simply nodded and began to move to follow his order, her steps measured, almost resigned.

But in that instant, something within Satoru stirred—a mix of irritation and the ever-present urge to defy authority, especially when it came in the form of someone like Naoya Zenin. He wasn't about to let Naoya have the last word, not here, not now.

With a swift, deliberate motion, he snatched the bottle from Suzue's hand again, his fingers brushing against hers again, light but purposeful.

«Naoya!» Satoru's voice rang out, sharp and playful, cutting through the thick air of the hall. «Here, I opened it for you. You're so weak I thought you couldn't manage it yourself.»

The line was delivered with a wide, almost gleeful smile, one that he knew would dig deep into Naoya's fragile ego. Satoru watched with satisfaction as Naoya's face contorted with barely suppressed rage, his skin turning various shades of red and purple.

The reaction was exactly what Satoru had hoped for—predictable, almost comical. He reveled in the sight, his own amusement barely concealed behind that ever-present smirk. Pushing Naoya's buttons was one of Satoru's few guilty pleasures, a pastime he indulged in whenever the opportunity arose.

Satoru didn't wait to hear Naoya's retort; he didn't care. His attention had already shifted back to Suzue, who had quietly slipped away, moving with that same measured grace that seemed to be her signature. His gaze followed her as she made her way to the outer rows, her head still bowed, her movements graceful yet hesitant. There was something about her, a vulnerability mixed with an undercurrent of strength, that piqued his curiosity more than he cared to admit.

Leaving a seething Naoya behind, Satoru moved to the central part of the hall with Yaga, taking a seat among the other clan heads and prominent figures. But his mind wasn't on the meeting, not really. As the discussions began, his eyes roamed the room, scanning the faces of the attendees in the central area before finally settling on Suzue, who sat off to the side, almost in the shadows.

She was composed, graceful, perfect. But there was something about her that didn't sit right with him.

"Too perfect," Satoru thought. "Like a piece of furniture."

There was something almost artificial about her stillness. In a room full of powerful and egotistical sorcerers, she stood out precisely because she was trying not to. It was almost as if she believed that if she held herself still enough, quiet enough, she could will herself out of existence, but failed spectacularly, at least in his eyes.

The meeting droned on, just as he had predicted, and it was an agony. Satoru let his mind drift as the clan heads and various other figures voiced their opinions, each one trying to outdo the other in a futile display of power and wisdom. They debated what had happened in Tokyo and Kyoto, how it could have been avoided, how the situation had spiraled out of control. The cacophony of voices filled the hall, each one more self-important than the last. Satoru could almost feel the collective ego suffocating the room, pressing in on him from all sides.

Some even had the gall to insinuate that the blame lay with Tokyo Jujutsu High, a suggestion that made Satoru's blood simmer beneath his calm exterior. Fortunately, Principal Yaga defended the school well, his measured responses cutting through the noise with the precision of a scalpel. But it was all for naught—more than two hours of sterile discussions and arguments, all centered around an issue that was already resolved and done. It was an exercise in futility, a performance of power that held no meaning for Satoru.

"And I just wanted to be left alone in my mourning."

Satoru thought, his mind wandering back to the recent loss of his… his best friend. The pain of betrayal and loss was still raw, an open wound that he carried beneath his usual bravado. Suguru Geto had been more than just an adversary; he had been a brother, someone who understood Satoru in ways no one else could. And now he was gone, by Satoru's own hand.

The weight of that act pressed down on him, even here, even now, surrounded by the hollow voices of these so-called leaders. He was fed up, his patience worn thin by the incessant bickering. The only way to end this farce was to do what he did best: annoy everyone.

«It's crazy how you old folks have been arguing for the past two hours about absolutely nothing, right?»

The previously animated hall fell suddenly silent.

Frigidly silent.

All eyes turned toward him, a mixture of shock and outrage painted across the faces of the elders and clan heads. Satoru sat there, staring into space with his usual cocky air, utterly unbothered by the attention he had just drawn.

«Oh, sorry... Did I say that out loud?» he added, feigning innocence as his lips curled into a smirk.

The room remained silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. But Satoru didn't care. He had said what needed to be said, and the silence that followed was more satisfying than any response they could have given. Let them stew in their discomfort, he thought. Let them realize how pointless their arguments truly were.

The first to react was, predictably, Naoya Zenin. Evidently, he was still smarting from their earlier exchange, his pride stung by Satoru's effortless jabs. «Satoru Gojo! Do you plan to contribute something useful to this discussion, or are you just here to audition for 'Most Annoying Sorcerer of the Year'

Naoya had taken the bait exactly as Satoru wanted. The grin on Satoru's face widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he prepared his retort.

«Oh, Naoya, I didn't realize they were holding auditions for 'Biggest Waste of Potential.' You must be a shoo-in!»

The room fell silent again, while Naoya's face contorted into expressions that seemed almost new to humankind—a mix of disbelief, rage, and humiliation. His anger was palpable, a deliciously satisfying sight for Satoru, who loved nothing more than watching Naoya struggle to maintain his composure.

But just as the tension in the room reached its peak, the silence was broken by a sound that Satoru hadn't expected: a stifled laugh. He turned his head, along with everyone else, to see Suzue with her hands over her mouth, slightly bent over, trying—and failing—to suppress her amusement. It was spontaneous, genuine, and... completely out of place.

For a moment, Satoru just watched her, struck by the sight of such spontaneity in this fake environment. Here they were, in the midst of what was supposed to be a serious, somber discussion, and Suzue—quiet, reserved Suzue—was laughing. It was a breath of fresh air, a spark of life in a room filled with self-important sorcerers who had long since forgotten how to laugh.

"Woah. She really did laughs." Satoru thought, his heart skipping a beat at the sight. Seeing her struggle to hold back a laugh, even Satoru couldn't help but chuckle softly at the absurdity of the situation. There was something disarming about her; it was as if, in that fleeting moment, she had become the most real person in the room.

Despite the pressure and the constant scrutiny, she had managed to find humor in his jab at Naoya. It was brave, in a way. And foolish. He knew the kind of retribution that could follow such an open display of defiance, even if it was just a laugh.

Most of the attendees didn't take it well, especially Naoya, who merely looked at her with disdain. The contempt in his eyes was unmistakable, and Satoru couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern for Suzue. She had shown a moment of humanity, and in this room, that was a dangerous thing.

«I'm glad someone here has a sense of humor.» he said, his voice carrying across the room as he shot a meaningful glance at Naoya.

Satoru couldn't help but sigh inwardly, knowing full well that Suzue might face consequences later for her little outburst. He understood all too well how the Zenin clan operated—any display of weakness or non-conformity was swiftly and harshly dealt with. It was the way they maintained control, the way they kept their subordinates in line.

But thanks to that little scene, the meeting ended fairly quickly, with no decisions made and nothing resolved. The room emptied in a flurry of robes and whispered conversations, the sorcerers retreating to their respective corners of influence to plot their next moves. Satoru watched the proceedings with a bemused expression, noting how easily the powerful were ruffled by a few well-placed words.

As the crowd began to disperse, Satoru approached Yaga, who was massaging his temple in exasperation, clearly worn out by the day's events. Yaga was a steady presence in the chaotic world of sorcery, but even he had his limits, especially when it came to dealing with the endless politics of the major clans.

«That girl Suzue… the one who laughed at Naoya. Who is she?» Satoru asked, trying to sound casual, though he knew Yaga would see right through him. He couldn't help it—there was something about Suzue that he couldn't shake, something that had lodged itself in his mind and refused to let go.

Yaga gave him a sideways look, seeing through his feigned nonchalance with ease. «Someone who should be locked up in the same madhouse I'd put you in, for laughing in that situation.» Then, more seriously, he continued, «Suzue Kujou, a ward of the Zenin clan and the last survivor of her clan. If I remember correctly, she's a fourth-grade sorcerer.»

Satoru frowned, his curiosity piqued even further. The term "ward" was a polite way of saying "captive" when it came to the Zenin clan. Suzue, with her quiet demeanor and powerful cursed energy, was clearly no exception. «A ward? Yeah, right. My Six Eyes clearly see cursed energy on par with at least a first-grade sorcerer.» he muttered, more to himself than to Yaga.

It didn't make sense—someone with that much cursed energy being kept at such a low rank? Unless… of course. The Zenin clan's influence. They were holding her back, suppressing her potential, likely to keep her under their control. It was a tactic as old as time, one that Satoru despised.

Yaga sighed, following Satoru's gaze as it drifted back to Suzue, who was slipping away from the hall with the same quiet grace that had defined her all day. «You know how the Zenin clan operates. Don't create more trouble today.» Yaga warned, though his tone was more weary than authoritative. He knew better than to try to rein in Satoru, especially when the sorcerer had set his mind on something.

"Too late." Satoru thought with a smirk, but he let it slide for now. Trouble was something he had never shied away from, especially when it involved exposing the hypocrisy of those in power.

As they quickly left the estate, before the old folks changed their minds and resumed their bickering, Satoru walked beside Yaga, his mind replaying the events of the day. The meeting had been a farce, a pointless exercise in power dynamics that had left everyone more irritated than before. But amidst all the meaningless chatter, Satoru had found something—or rather, someone—worth his attention.

He thought back to everything he knew about the Kujou clan. A small but ancient clan of sorcerers, known for their Divine Flame technique. The news of their downfall, now ten years ago, had spread throughout the sorcery world. It had been a brutal and sudden massacre, leaving no survivors—except Suzue, apparently.

Suzue was their last heir and was now reduced to a pawn in the Zenin clan's power plays. The irony was not lost on Satoru. She carried within her the legacy of an entire clan, a power that could rival the best of them, and yet, she was treated as little more than a servant. The thought ignited a slow-burning anger within him, not just at the Zenin clan but at the system that allowed such injustices to persist.

"Anyway, it's over now." he thought, scanning the sea of people for a glimpse of her. But Suzue had vanished, melting into the crowd with practiced ease. Despite her apparent desire to remain unseen, she had left an indelible impression on him.

As he left the Zenin estate, he couldn't help but think about all that cursed energy contained in a body that couldn't even open a water bottle. It was a paradox that fascinated him. Suzue Kujou was a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and Satoru Gojo loved nothing more than unraveling mysteries.


A/N

The name Suzue is composed of two characters:

- 鈴 (Suzu): means "bell" or "jingle." Bells have a symbolic meaning in Japan, often associated with purity and protection, and are used in shrines to attract the attention of the deities.

- 江 (E): This character means "bay" or "inlet."

Together, "Suzue" can be interpreted as "bay of the bell," evoking a peaceful and harmonious image with a connection to spirituality.

The surname "Kujou" is an aristocratic and ancient name, often associated with one of the five great regent families (Gosekke) of Japan during the Heian period.

I'll leave you with this information ❤️

And sooooo it begins, join me for the ride!