"You're Megumi Fushiguro, right?" Satoru asked, his voice never faltering, as he took slow, deliberate steps forward, his presence looming as he approached the young boy standing before him.
Megumi Fushiguro turned to face him, eyeing the older man, a hint of mistrust flashing in his dark eyes.
The boy's reaction was instant. He squinted suspiciously at the man before him, his eyes narrowing into a glare that was far too sharp for someone so young. It was a look that held a level of wariness that no elementary school kid should ever have to adopt.
"Who are you?" Megumi spat, his tone cutting, as his sharp gaze locked onto Satoru. There was no fear, only hostility. "And what's with that face, you freak!?"
Satoru winced, his expression involuntarily pulling into a comical mixture of reluctance, fear, and painful nostalgia. He'd tried so hard to maintain composure, but apparently, the kid saw right through him. Or maybe, the expression on his face was simply too much to hide.
"No-no... it's nothing," Satoru stammered, trying to regain his footing. But the memories, vivid and unwelcome, had a firm grip on him. He swallowed hard, trying to push them back into the recesses of his mind. "You just… you're remarkably similar to someone I had thehorrible displeasureof meeting."
Megumi's frown deepened, his confusion apparent now as he continued to glare, clearly not appreciating the cryptic remark. His tiny fists clenched around his backpack handles, ready for whatever bizarre nonsense this stranger was about to spout.
Satoru shook his head, forcing himself to clear the vivid memories of a certain monstrous assassin from his mind. "It's nothing," he said, more clearly this time, his voice smoothing out as he regained his usual confident tone. "Just my own personal issue, is all" He offered a lopsided grin, the trademark carefree Gojo smirk sliding back into place.
"So, anyways" he began, casually shifting gears, "about your dad—"
Before he could continue, a sudden cry rang out, interrupting the moment. "Megumi!"
A girl with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail came rushing out of a nearby apartment, her steps hurried and purposeful. Her wide eyes narrowed as soon as they landed on Satoru, instantly filled with harsh suspicion, before she turned her attention to Megumi.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to strangers?!" she scolded sharply, her voice ringing with a sternness that Megumi wasn't used to hearing. Her hand shot out, beckoning him to come closer. "Come here now!"
Megumi blinked, clearly taken aback. His sister had always been so soft-spoken, so gentle in her approach, that hearing her voice this sharp, this… angry? No, it wasn't anger—it was something else. Worry? Fear?
Her tone sent an unfamiliar jolt through him, and for a brief moment, he stood frozen, bewildered. Without thinking, he felt himself start to comply, his body instinctively moving toward the older sibling who had cared for him for as long as he could remember.
"Oh!" Satoru's voice cut through the moment, breaking the spell as Megumi paused mid-step. Right… He'd almost forgotten about this guy.
The young boy shot Satoru an irritated glance, but Gojo wasn't even looking at him. Instead, his piercing blue eyes were fixed on the approaching girl, his grin widening in curiosity. "And who might that be?" he asked, tilting his head, his tone full of intrigue.
The girl didn't resemble Megumi at all, nor did she share any obvious traits with the Fushiguro family, at least not from what Satoru knew. And while he was well aware of Megumi's father, Toji Zenin, the infamous assassin, he had never heard of the man having any other children. Megumi was supposed to be his first and only child, right?
His thoughts were cut short as the young girl, who looked to be about six or seven, marched up to them with a determined stride. Her ponytail bounced behind her, and her fierce little face was scrunched up in a glare that might have been comical if it weren't so full of fiery determination. She wasted no time, immediately grabbing hold of Megumi's hand, her grip firm.
"Hey! Let go!"Megumi cried out, startled by her sudden boldness, but she wasn't having any of it.
"Mister!" she addressed Satoru with a voice far too sharp and serious for her age, her eyes narrowing into an adorably stern expression. "Please don't casually approach children with such a creepy expression on your face."
Satoru blinked, taken aback. His mouth opened slightly in surprise as the girl's words hit him square in the chest. For a moment, he was utterly flabbergasted.
Her next words only made it worse. "It makes it too obvious that you havebad intentions," she continued, her tone decisive as she emphasized the last words with a seriousness that seemed far too advanced for someone her age.
Satoru's eyes widened, his expression morphing into one of horror. "HA!" he cried out, waving his arms frantically in defense of his reputation. "THERE'S NO FREAKIN' WAY! AND—WAIT! HOW DO—DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!? HOW OLD ARE YOU?!"
The girl didn't flinch at his outburst. She held her ground, her tiny face full of determination. "I'm very well aware of what it means," she stated firmly, her voice never wavering.
Satoru blinked again, utterly flabbergasted.
"I'm six years old," she added, as if that made her authority undeniable. Her grip tightened slightly on Megumi's hand as she declared with absolute certainty, "and I'm Megumi's big sister. Tsumiki Fushiguro!"
The proclamation hung in the air as Satoru, dumbstruck, tried to process the unexpected and surprisingly fierce figure before him. This girl, who had seemingly come out of nowhere, had no trouble standing her ground—even against him. And the look on her face made it clear she wasn't backing down anytime soon.
Megumi, meanwhile, sighed in exasperation, clearly accustomed to his sister's overprotective nature.
I have no idea how it happened.
One minute, I was at home, deep in study prep for my upcoming exam, completely absorbed in the mess of textbooks and notes scattered around my desk. I remember the late hour, the quiet hum of the lamp overhead, and the faint breeze from the open window. Then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, it all disappeared. The light, the familiar comfort of my room, the lingering scent of coffee. Gone. And the next thing I knew… I was lying on my back, staring up at a peeling, unfamiliar ceiling covered with patches of black mold and long, hanging cobwebs that seemed to sway as if alive.
I'm still grappling with the reality of it, wondering if it's real or just a strange, elaborate dream. But I can't afford to sit idle, not in a place like this. There's too much at stake, and I'm not the type to do nothing. Especially not when I've somehow found myself reborn as Tsumiki Fushiguro of all people.
Tsumiki Fushiguro. The older stepsister of Megumi Fushiguro—one of the main protagonists in Jujutsu Kaisen. Megumi Fushiguro was phenomenal. Strong. Gifted with a remarkable technique that made him a powerful sorcerer in the brutal, unforgiving world of Jujutsu, where survival often comes only to the strongest. But his sister… well, Tsumiki was the opposite. She was ordinary. No powers, no remarkable strength. She didn't even have much time in the manga itself; her role was limited to being a tragic pawn in the hands of Kenjaku, one of the series' most sinister antagonists. In the end, she was just another victim, cursed and used as a vessel by an obsessive sorcerer who was disturbingly infatuated with Sukuna of all people.
And that was her fate. Her tragic death left Megumi shattered, killing his fighting spirit and driving a painful wedge into his heart.
I still remember the day Toji Fushiguro came into my life bringing alongside him a tiny, three-year-old Megumi. Toji himself was far from an ideal father—negligent and often selfish—but at least he wasn't as damaging as my own. Unfortunately, when he met my mother, an alcoholic with her own issues, they seemed to magnify each other's flaws rather than correct them, creating a dynamic that was far from what anyone could call a good match. They left me, a four-year-old at the time, to essentially raise a baby on my own.
But now, having lived through twenty-four years in my previous life, I'm grateful that my adult mind carried over into this one. I shudder to think how things might have turned out if I hadn't been able to fend for myself, and for Megumi.
At first, I'll admit, Megumi was a chore. Another task on a long list of daily responsibilities forced on me by two adults who should have known better. But gradually, he became more than that. I never had anyone close to me in my past life, and in this one, well… I have Megumi. He's my reason to keep going, my anchor. And I know one thing for sure: I'll do anything to protect him.
I did not survive negligent parents just to watch my only younger brother get manipulated by a reckless teenager with a god complex. Satoru Gojo might be the strongest sorcerer alive, but that didn't mean I'd let him turn Megumi into his soldier to fight against the rotting hierarchy of jujutsu sorcerers.
I glared up at Satoru, who looked stunned, his mouth slightly open in shock. His eyes, usually bright and sharp, were comically wide as he stared down at me.
"If you have nothing more to add," I said firmly, the disdain in my tone crystal clear, "then I suggest you be on your way. Thank you very much!" With that, I turned on my heel, gripping Megumi's wrist in my hand as I dragged him away, feeling his slight weight lagging behind.
"Nee-chan?" Megumi muttered, his voice uncertain, his face wearing a mix of confusion and surprise.
I didn't respond. Instead, I shut the door firmly, turning to face him with a stern look, arms crossed over my chest. "Gumi!" I began, doing my best impression of an authoritative older sister. "I don't care how mature you think you are. You don't just casually talk to strangers, even if you have Kuroi and Shiroi with you!"
Megumi frowned, a little pout forming on his lips as he stared up at me, his brows knitting in defiance. "I can handle myself!" he insisted, his voice carrying an unmistakable edge of stubbornness.
I sighed, shaking my head. For a kid this young, he was already so unbelievably headstrong.
It seems things were going according to cannon so far, but there was something different now—something that made me more than just a stand-in for the original Tsumiki Fushiguro. Unlike her, I could see curses. I could see their grotesque forms lurking in the shadows, feel the malice that radiated from their twisted bodies. And, perhaps most surprising of all, I had a technique of my own… or at least, something close to it.
And it wasn't just any technique. I had frickin' Orihime's power from Bleach. I had the Sōten Kisshun—the power to reject phenomena, to heal injuries almost instantaneously.
With Orihime's powers—withmypowers—I had the chance to keep Megumi safe, to protect him and others in ways I'd never dreamed I could in either life. I may not have a limitless technique or the ten shadows, but I had something just as powerful—a way to rewrite reality itself!
I could feel it within me, like a dormant energy waiting to be unleashed. A warmth that pulsed from deep within, almost like a living thing. And in this life, where curses and danger lurked around every corner, that power might just be the key to keeping Megumi safe.
I remember the first time I used my technique.
"Megumi!" I called out, my voice rising with worry as he trudged through the door, noticeably later than he should've been.
He paused briefly, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face before he clicked his tongue and continued walking, shoving his hands into his pockets with a huff. "Will you stop making a big deal about this again?" he muttered, clearly irritated.
I folded my arms, exasperated. "It is a big deal, Megumi!" I retorted, my voice full of concern and frustration. "You're only five years old! You shouldn't be hanging around outside this late; anything could happen!"
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. "Whatever… it's not like Mom or Dad even care," he muttered under his breath, his small voice tinged with a bitterness that hurt to hear. The pain deepened as he continued, his eyes downcast, "Not that they'd care even if they were here."
My chest tightened as his words sank in. He was right, of course—our mother and Toji had once again disappeared to who-knew-where, leaving me, a mere six-year-old, to be the responsible one. To be the one who made sure he had food, who calmed him after nightmares, who worried when he stayed out too late. It was just the two of us against the world, and sometimes… it was exhausting.
But I wouldn't let him see that. I refused to. "Even if they don't care," I whispered, my voice softening as he stomped off toward his room, "I still do."
It was happening again.
"AGAIN!" I shouted in frustration, my voice echoing through the empty street as I glanced around, my fists clenched. It was well past six, and once more, Megumi was nowhere to be found. The original Tsumiki might have waited patiently, might have approached him with the soft concern of a gentle older sister. But I wasn't her. I was this Tsumiki, and if I had to turn into a devil to keep him safe, then so be it.
With an unwavering determination, I started marching down the dimly lit street, searching for my reckless, idiotic little brother. Street after street, yard after yard, I searched, my legs growing tired as the minutes dragged on. Finally, after over an hour of wandering, my feet seemed to lead me on their own, taking me down a winding path to the edge of the neighborhood—straight to the cemetery.
In the world of Jujutsu Kaisen, cemeteries are a place you avoid at all costs. The last place anyone in their right mind would go willingly. They practically thrummed with negative energy, a prime spot for the high-grade curses that lurked in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting prey. And yet, there he was—my stupid, stubborn little brother—standing still and silent in front of a grave, his face unreadable.
"Megumi?" I called out softly, my voice filled with worry as I approached.
He turned slightly, glancing at me with a cold indifference that felt so foreign on his young face. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice sharp, like I was the intruder.
I bit back a sigh, keeping my tone calm and gentle. "That's my line, you know," I replied softly, taking a step closer. "I was worried about you."
"Don't be," he shot back, turning his gaze back to the gravestone. "I can take care of myself."
My heart sank. He was so young, and yet he carried himself with this hardened, adult-like resolve, a defensive wall he'd built up to protect himself from pain. "…Megumi," I began carefully, "is this… someone you know?" I already had a feeling.
"What does it matter?" he snapped, his sharp gaze meeting mine, brimming with defiance. "Why do you keep trying to get in my business? It's annoying!"
His words hit me like a slap to the face, but I didn't flinch. I knew he was hurting. Still, it hurt to see the resentment in his eyes.
I managed to keep my voice steady, even as his words stung. "I'm just looking out for you," I said gently. "We're siblings, it's normal for me to care—"
"We're not siblings!" he cut me off, his tone laced with frustration and something deeper, something raw. "You're not my real sister, and I'm not your real brother," he continued, his voice growing louder, "The only thing we have in common are our crap parents! The only reason my dad married your mom was so he could dump me on her! But even she didn't want me! She didn't even want you, and you're her real daughter!"
By the time Megumi finished his outburst, his chest was heaving, and his small shoulders rose and fell with each ragged breath, as though the weight of his own words had taken all the strength he had. I stood there, frozen, the sting of his words reverberating in my heart. He was only a child, too young to be carrying this much pain. I knew I shouldn't take his words personally, but it hurt all the same.
Still, I couldn't bring myself to snap back or tell him he was wrong. Instead, I softened my expression, and maybe he saw it—maybe he saw the sadness, the hurt I couldn't mask. Our eyes met, and he flinched, a flicker of guilt passing over his face before he glanced away, jaw clenched.
"…Megumi," I murmured gently, taking a cautious step closer, reaching out a hand to bridge the chasm between us.
Suddenly, a chilling voice creaked from the darkness, sending shivers down my spine.
"IT'SNOTFAIR!" it whispered, hoarse and twisted, echoing through the stillness like an unwelcome whisper from a nightmare.
I froze. Beside me, Megumi's face drained of all color, his eyes widening in terror as the weight of a malicious presence filled the air. My skin prickled, and the air grew dense and icy, like a shadow had cloaked the world around us.
Barely daring to breathe, I shifted my gaze to the corner of my vision, and Megumi followed suit. There, hovering just above the gravestone Megumi had been staring at moments before, was a curse—monstrous and vile. Purple ooze leaked from its form, dripping to the ground in sickening puddles. Its eyes, hideously green and yellow, glowed from the sunken, animalistic face that was a grotesque blend of snake and goat, with gnarled, curling horns and a wide mouth brimming with sharp, jagged teeth.
"Why?" it hissed, its voice like the scrape of nails on glass, "It'snotfair! WhydidIhavetoDIE!?"
Before I could react, an unseen force slammed into us, knocking both Megumi and me back across the cold, hard ground. The impact stung, and a gasp escaped my lips as I landed, skidding to a halt near the base of a headstone. I looked over to see Megumi struggling to his feet, his expression twisted with fear.
The curse's putrid gaze swung toward me, its body rippling as it grew, towering above us with a twisted, hate-filled expression that seemed all too alive. It hissed again, the guttural rage in its voice tearing through the silence as it slithered closer, its elongated form expanding and coiling like a predator. "WhydidIdie? Whenyou'restillalive!?"
Its monstrous form surged forward, charging at me with murderous intent. I tried to push myself up, but my body was heavy, my limbs trembling as if weighed down by the thick miasma of the curse's energy.
"DEMON DOGS!"
Megumi's voice cut through the haze of fear, clear and desperate as he summoned his demon dog shikigami, and in an instant, the twin spectral wolves appeared, snarling and growling as they launched themselves at the curse. Their white fur bristled with energy as they darted around it, jaws snapping and teeth tearing, forcing the curse to reel back momentarily, its attention shifting from me to the spectral wolves.
He wasn't thinking when he summoned them, the only thought that went through his mind was Tsumiki, and how helpless she was in a situation like this compared to himself. HE HAD TO PROTECT HER!
But the curse was stronger than I'd realized. With a sudden, violent twist, it flung one of the white wolves across the graveyard, and with a savage swipe, sent the other sprawling, leaving Megumi exposed. Its twisted eyes gleamed as it locked onto him, seeing him as the easier target.
At that moment I watched in fear as Megumi's small frame trembled, frozen in terror. His shikigami had never faced a curse this powerful, and he wasn't ready. He was too young, too inexperienced. And yet here he was, confronted with a monstrous spirit that meant to take his life.
His hands shook, his eyes filled with tears he tried to blink away as he looked at the looming creature, helplessly remembering the cruel words he'd flung at his only sister just moments earlier. Regret clouded his gaze as he took a shaky step back.
In that split second, I saw the weight of his guilt.
He didn't mean what he'd said.
My heart twisted at the sight of him, so small, so brave in his own way, and yet so scared. He was my little brother, the one I had sworn to protect. Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced myself to stand, a strange warmth unfurling in my chest, a light growing from the depths of my being as the curse coiled, jaw unhinging with anticipation as it prepared to devour him.
"No!" I cried, my voice breaking with raw desperation, my hand outstretched toward Megumi as if sheer will alone could pull him back to safety.
In that instant, time seemed to slow, every second stretching out as I watched the curse's grotesque form hurtling toward my brother. My heart pounded as a glimmer of light flickered to life in front of me. It felt like something deep within me had awoken, and before I knew it, I shouted, in English, "Shield!"
A radiant, golden dome burst into existence around Megumi, glowing with an ethereal light that shimmered and pulsed. Just as the curse lunged forward, its teeth snapping, it collided with the shield, and a powerful ripple of energy exploded outward, forcing the curse back with an agonized hiss.
I stood there, stunned. The shield had appeared as though by instinct, as if it had always been a part of me, lying dormant until now. My hands trembled, the glow fading slightly as I tried to understand what had just happened. Yet, there was no time for questions; my gaze darted back to Megumi, who had fallen to the ground behind the shield, his face a mix of shock and terror. Tears pooled in his wide eyes, making him look so small, so vulnerable—a child who had been forced to grow up too soon.
And then something snapped inside me. This creature had hurt him. It had dared to make my brother, usually so composed and mature, cry. The sight ignited a fierce, protective rage in my chest that I'd never felt before.
Instinct took over again, but this time, the clarity was almost overwhelming. I knew exactly what to do.
Lifting both hands, I faced the creature with a calm intensity that surprised even me. I felt something burning deep within, a powerful force gathering from the depths of my very soul, as though my own essence was reaching out in defiance. My voice was steady and unyielding, echoing with a weight I had never known. And from the core of my being, in a language that felt foreign and yet intrinsically mine, I spoke three words:
"I reject you."
The air around me crackled as a brilliant, golden light erupted from my hands, radiating out like a tidal wave of raw energy. It enveloped the curse, wrapping it in a blinding aura. The creature shrieked, writhing and twisting as the light burned through its twisted form. Its voice cracked and splintered, but it was already too late—my words held a strange, absolute power, a force that denied the curse's very existence. The golden light pulsed, growing brighter until the graveyard itself seemed to glow, and with a final, desperate scream, the creature simply… vanished, as if it had been erased from reality. Rejected, wholly and completely.
The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the soft, dying echoes of the curse's wail. I lowered my hands slowly, my heart pounding as the light faded. Everything was still, as though the world itself held its breath.
Behind me, I heard a soft gasp. Turning, I saw Megumi staring at me, wide-eyed and speechless. He hadn't moved, his small body hunched as he clutched his knees, his face painted with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
"Nee-chan…" he whispered, his voice barely audible. He stared up at me, his expression unreadable, but I saw the trust there, the fragile relief, the gratitude. My heart clenched, feeling an overwhelming sense of purpose. I'd saved him—I'd truly saved him.
I knelt beside him, reaching out to gently brush a stray tear from his cheek. His gaze softened, and for the first time, he allowed himself to lean into my touch, resting his head on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close, whispering softly, "You're safe, Gumi. I'm here. I won't let anything hurt you."
It was the first time I'd used that power, and from that day on, I'd become relentless in trying to understand it, honing it bit by bit. Every day, I explored its edges, testing its limits and feeling out the depths of this strange energy within me. It was like learning to hold a live wire—a force that pulsed and glowed, unpredictable and powerful.
Megumi had been cautious at first, watching with a wary eye every time I practiced, more concerned for my safety than anything else. He was hesitant to support my training, his young eyes filled with worry, but after I explained it was no different than him using his Ten Shadows Technique, he eventually relented. From that moment on, it was like we had forged a quiet pact, a shared determination that drove us both forward. Together, we trained—his shadows flickering in and out of existence, while my energy shield sparked and pulsed. We were each other's support, our strengths intertwined in a way that felt solid and reassuring.
And then, Satoru Gojo showed up, throwing everything off balance. His appearance in our lives complicated things more than I had expected, making the precarious situation with the Zen'in clan feel like an inevitable storm on the horizon.
Stupid Toji. Stupid, selfish Toji, who'd sold his own son to that family of heartless, power-hungry monsters, sealing Megumi's fate like a pawn on a chessboard. I rubbed my forehead, frustration building as my mind spiraled. The Zen'ins were ruthless, a clan filled with corrupted sorcerers whose tradition of cruelty and prejudice held Megumi's future in its grip. They didn't care about him as a person—only as a tool, a potential powerhouse to strengthen their pathetic bloodline.
But I couldn't change the past. My focus had to be on what lay ahead. In the original story, Gojo had stepped in, thwarting the Zen'in clan by claiming guardianship over Megumi and using his influence to arrange for Jujutsu Tech to fund Megumi's life, on the condition that Megumi would one day become a sorcerer. It had been an arrangement of convenience for Gojo, securing the boy's loyalty and honing him as an asset for the Jujutsu world.
The idea of Megumi becoming a sorcerer, of following the brutal path the original story had laid out, twisted something deep inside me. I didn't want to see him thrust into the blood-soaked world of curses and death. I'd wanted a different future for him, a chance at a normal life, free from the dangers and shadows that plagued Jujutsu society. But I knew that keeping him safe from the Zen'ins would be impossible without power and protection of our own.
Gojo would be a part of this; there was no avoiding it. If his guardianship could keep the Zen'ins away, then so be it. As much as I hated the idea of Megumi following in the steps of the original story, Satoru's plan might be the only path to keeping him safe from the Zen'ins greedy clutches. At least as a sorcerer under Gojo's watch, he'd be surrounded by those who truly cared for him.
And this time, things would be different. This time, I wouldn't be a passive witness to Megumi's fate. I'd walk alongside him, taking every risk, facing every danger with him, shoulder to shoulder. If Megumi had to be a sorcerer, then so would I.
I made a decision, then and there, the weight of it settling over me with a fierce clarity. I was going to enroll at Jujutsu Tech. I was going to stand alongside Gojo and Megumi, fight with them, learn from them, and protect him with every ounce of power and will I possessed. I didn't know exactly how my ability worked, but I would master it. I would wield it with unshakable determination, with purpose and precision, because Megumi was worth it.
A surge of resolve welled up in my chest, hard and unyielding. I was going to enroll in Jujutsu High myself, becoming a sorcerer, not only to master this strange power within me but to stand beside Megumi. To protect him in a world where innocence was stripped away far too soon. The weight of my decision settled heavily on my shoulders, yet it felt right, like a piece falling into place.
"You're not going through this alone, Megumi," I whispered to myself, my heart steady. I wouldn't let the Zen'ins take him, nor would I let the curse-ridden world wear him down without a fight. I was Tsumiki Fushiguro, and from now on, I would forge my own path, standing as a guardian, a sister, and a sorcerer.
"I promise!"
Satoru Gojo was a prodigy, gifted in ways that defied convention. From the moment of his birth, the balance of power in the world had shifted; whispers of his arrival rippled through the jujutsu society, instilling both reverence and resentment. And Satoru knew it. He felt it every time he walked into a room, the way people's gazes would flicker with awe or envy. It fed something in him, a spark that became a blaze over the years. He was used to winning, to surpassing anyone who dared to stand against him.
There was only one exception, a figure standing stubbornly in his mind, casting a rare shadow over the brightness of his memories. Suguru Geto, his first and only true friend, the one he'd thought would be with him through it all. They were supposed to change the world together, fix it, rule it, protect it. But a wedge had split them apart, and that wedge had a name: Toji Fushiguro.
And now, ironically, he found himself standing outside Toji Fushiguro's dilapidated old house, staring down a narrow-eyed, belligerent girl who refused to let him so much as talk to her younger brother. She was fierce, protective, and stubborn as all hell, but there was something more. Something almost amusing, he thought with a hint of a smirk.
Her name was Tsumiki, Toji's stepdaughter—and his initial target's fiercely loyal sister. Gojo's mission had been clear enough: assess and potentially take in Toji's son, Megumi, the boy who bore the Ten Shadows Technique, a technique powerful enough to turn heads even within the ancient clans. But nothing had prepared him for Tsumiki, who had dismissed him so thoroughly, dragging Megumi away with a glare as if he were just some annoying sales clerk.
Hours later, he sat in his office, head thunked against the table as he processed the surreal encounter. "What a stubborn, obstinate little thing," he muttered, half-impressed. But what intrigued him even more was the brief surge of energy he'd sensed within her, a wave of something that defied easy explanation. It was subtle, yet potent—a current that felt almost like reversed cursed energy. But it wasn't cursed energy at all. It wasn't like anything he'd sensed before, even with his Six Eyes.
He raised his head, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He'd tasked Ijichi to dig up everything he could on Tsumiki Fushiguro, yet the report on her was disappointingly ordinary. No hint of a jujutsu background, no lineage connected to sorcery whatsoever. Just an ordinary civilian girl, if one chose to believe the paperwork. But Gojo knew better. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something unusual about her, some hidden potential.
An involuntary smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It had been so long since he'd felt genuinely curious about anything. When was the last time something in this world had intrigued him like this? He wasn't sure, but he knew he couldn't ignore it.
Earlier that day, he'd spoken to Yaga about taking on a teaching position at Jujutsu High. Yaga's reaction was priceless—a mix of astonishment and trepidation. "Satoru, have some pity for the next generation! Haven't your juniors and seniors been enough to traumatize!" he'd groaned, but Satoru had flashed his trademark grin, throwing Yaga off-balance just enough to convince him. The truth was, Satoru didn't particularly care about teaching, but the future of Jujutsu society needed to be changed… so that no more sorcerers would end up lost or alone, like Geto, like Haibara… and him.
Now, he stared out the window, the light of dusk casting warm, nostalgic hues over the cityscape as he lost himself in thought. Tomorrow, he'd pay the Fushiguro residence another visit, and he had no doubt it would be entertaining.
Tsumiki's brow twitched, her small face scrunched into a glare as she stood her ground, arms crossed firmly over her chest. Her gaze didn't waver as she stared up at the tall, white-haired man blocking their path. Every ounce of her expression said she wasn't impressed.
"Well, well, aren't you a little young to be looking so serious?" Satoru Gojo said, his voice playful, almost taunting. His grin stretched wider as he leaned down to her level, eyes glinting with amusement behind his dark sunglasses. "Relax, short stuff, or that serious little face might get stuck that way."
Tsumiki's frown only deepened, her brow knitting tighter as if sheer concentration alone could make him vanish. Megumi stood just behind her, his young face twisted in suspicion, ready to summon his shikigami if this stranger made one wrong move. His fingers flexed, itching to summon his demon dogs.
Gojo glanced at Megumi, the wariness in his eyes and his defensive stance—ready to fight, even at his age—making the sorcerer chuckle. "Oh, look at you," he said with a mockingly impressed tone, "already protecting Nee-chan? How cute!"
Tsumiki's eyes narrowed further, and Megumi's expression didn't budge, their shared defiance only fueling Satoru's amusement. He grinned, thoroughly entertained. There was a spark to these kids, he thought, something rare and feisty, something he was more than happy to coax out.
"What do you want now, pervert?"
"I'M NOT A PERVERT!"