Retired From Sad, New Career in Business - Chapter 5 - river_lethe (Chaotic_anarchy8) - 呪術廻戦 (2024)

Chapter Text

Furano – Unnamed Warehouse

無う

“Report.”

His teeth clacked loudly against the red-coloured candy in his mouth. He rolled the stick between his teeth, catching it on his sharpened canines as his tongue lavished across the tart exterior of the sweet. He shifted it to the side and into his cheek, sucking on the strawberry nectar before he pulled it out of his mouth with a loud ‘pop’. He blinked lazily, smacked his lips, savouring the slight sugar high, and then offered his attention to the kneeling bodies before him. He hoped to get some good quality sweets from the markets here in Furano but first-

“What’s been happening around the Gojo Clan?”

XXX – Gojo Clan Estate

“Subaru.”

The acting Gojo Clan Head stayed kowtowed before his mother. He didn’t quiver beneath the cold voice. He didn’t raise his head at the utterance. He didn’t breathe until his mother hummed in acceptance. Still, even then, he waited –silent and motionless. He was a shadow, after all. His mother’s shadow. A thing that moved when his mother moved. A thing that spoke when his mother spoke. A thing that danced when his mother danced. A handmade doll to be controlled by his mother.

Gojo Subaru was born to be his mother’s puppet.

“Look at me, Subaru.”

Subaru looked up, his red eyes trained on his mother. There was nothing there. It was blank. There were no thoughts. There were no feelings. There was no life. If his chest hadn’t been moving, a slow rise of up and down movements that coincided with his breathing, most would assume that he was dead. Tabula Rasa was Gojo Subaru. Why would he need thoughts or feelings or life? All he is, was and ever will be is an extension of his mother.

“What has that girl told you today?”

“Akari spoke to Satoru about his mother.”

“Hmmm…” Her indigo eyes glinted down at Subaru from above, the lowlights making them appear darker than they were. Shizuka hummed loudly, unconcerned –it wasn’t like the boy would remember when he grew up, “What else?”

“She was also unsatisfied with the binding vow she made with me.”

Shizuka clicked her tongue and muttered, “That stupid girl…”

The Gojo Matriarch couldn’t fathom how that girl gave her one lifeline within the Gojo Clan away. And for a woman who carried her husband’s illegitimate child. She had always known that the Fujiwara Princess was stubborn –dancing to her own song with irresponsibility lining her feet despite the privilege she was afforded. Shizuka expected with her marriage that such behaviours would have been quelled. Except, it hadn’t and it baffled her. However, she realized with time that it was simply a consequence of being born into a position of power.

Something Shizuka had become intimately aware of during her time as the Gojo Clan’s regent.

“Tell me everything.”

Gojo Shizuka was an imposing woman. Strong-willed, stubborn and cold to the bone. As a woman within the Gojo Clan, she had lived a life with only a singular goal given by her parents and it was to marry and produce a viable heir. She had been betrothed to her late husband before she could walk and married days after flowering. Being a dutiful wife and mother was all she knew. That was until her stupid husband died. And then Gojo Shizuka found herself grasping at something she never had. Power.

Power that had been shifting towards her unruly in-laws ever since her husband kicked the bucket.

The alliance with the Fujiwara Clan had been a statement. Insurance of her power and line over her brother-in-law’s inbred cretins because it was her son that had gotten the wayward blood of the Gojo back into the main line. However, the alliance had become more trouble than it was worth. Considering all the difficulties that the girl had brought upon them and the fact that she was defective, Shizuka had become disillusioned with the partnership.

“If I knew that she was going to be so troublesome, I would have set you up with another, more prosperous, bride.” She gripped with a disappointed shake of her head.

The Gojo Matriarch cupped her cheek in thought. She could always get rid of the girl. It would solve several problems that had been cropping up as a result of the Fujiwara child. As impertinent as the girl was, she still had a considerable amount of sway and influence due to her status as the Fujiwara Clan head’s only child and daughter. Removing her would lessen the burden on their own clan and allow them to have more access to the Six Eyes. However, doing that would lead to a war with the Fujiwara Clan.

“We can’t have her influencing the Six Eyes with her rebellious behaviour…”

The Fujiwara girl had easily agreed to be the mother of the Six Eyes, to pass him off as her own flesh and blood, provided she didn’t inform her father and clan of the Gojo Clan’s deception. Essentially, Shizuka and Subaru had gone behind everyone’s backs. They had scouted and handpicked that Yuki girl for the sole purpose of birthing an heir –and they did it without an official contract or notice to the Fujiwara Clan. Infidelity was a breach of the marriage contract between their clans and if the Fujiwara Clan learned of their deceit…let’s just say, it wouldn’t end well for anyone.

At the end of the day, the agreement had been mutually beneficial. The Fujiwara girl got her offspring, dodging the bullet that had been trailing after her for her inability to provide children, while the Gojo Clan kept their contract with the Fujiwara clan intact and got a replacement mother for the Six Eyes. However, she had not conceived that the girl would actually insist on being the Six Eye’s mother. She used her influence to take over the childcare, employing maids from her own clan rather than using the ones provided by the Gojo Clan.

“If this continues, she could sway the Six Eyes to the Fujiwara.” Shizuka’s hand settled on her thigh, digging into the material-covered flesh.

If only her son had married that Yuki girl then she wouldn’t have been facing this problem. While the scandal would have been slightly damaging, having the Six Eyes in their possession would have offset any negative opinions. As for the girl, Shizuka could have easily stuck her in some backwater place and let her rot to death. But that wasn’t the case. Shizuka’s hands were tied because Subura was married to a woman with as much prestige as him. Although she was a woman, the Fujiwara girl was born of pure blood from the main line in a very prestigious clan and that meant power.

And oh, how she loathed the Fujiwara girl for it.

“What are your orders?”

Shizuka’s eyes dipped towards her kneeling son. The first and last seed her husband had ever given her. Her perfect only son. Born and bred with subservience brimming in his veins, Subaru was a gift from the gods to her.

“Watch her every move.” She commanded.

There wasn’t much the girl could do at the moment, subjected as she was to the Gojo Clan’s laws and rules due to her marriage. All her power extended towards her own clan and connections, which were scarce, owing to her isolation within their clan. However, with her increasing involvement in child rearing, that would soon change as the Fujiwara brought in more of her own personnel.

“Delay the messages between her and her father.”

Shizuku couldn’t have more of the Fujiwara half-breeds and spies staining their halls. She would put a stop to it and then tighten her leash on that stupid girl. It was only a matter of time and patience but all would fall into place eventually.

“Yes, Mother.”

With the swiftness of a trained soldier, Subaru rose to his feet and, after waiting for her dismissal, turned around and walked out of her room. His socked feet hardly made a sound and his movements were carefully graceful, full of deadly precision and discipline. Her son was her pride. A child she had trained herself from infancy –her greatest creation.

Her eyes narrowed on her son’s retreating figure. She tilted her head to the side and clicked her fingers. Abruptly, without even the slightest shift in the air, a member of the Kodokushiwas kneeling before her, awaiting her orders. She stared at them, at their stiff and unrelenting posture and then flicked her eyes off to the side where the others were likely hiding in the shadows. Try as she might, Shizuka could not see a single shift in the darkness yet she knew that they were there. A truly amazing breed of monsters.

無う

“Your orders, Gojo-sama?”

The voice was muffled and unidentifiable. She could never tell who was behind those masks, even after so many years of having them under her command. Whether they were a man or woman, old or young or even if they were human –it did not matter to her. They were unknown for a reason. It was something she liked. Something she valued, instead of feared because, with beasts such as these, she knew where she stood.

“Be vigilant of my son.”

It seemed like the Six Eyes wasn’t the only thing at risk of being influenced.

Furano – Unknown Warehouse

“She’s as spritely as ever…” Gojo snorted, thinking back to his own grandmother.

Gojo Shizuka had been a vicious woman until her death. He might not have loved her –never in her entire lifetime had she uttered a single loving or maternal word toward him that wasn’t some ulterior motive –but he appreciated her lessons. She had made Gojo Satoru into the vicious man he eventually became. A fact that the higher-ups hadn’t liked one bit because if there was one person they hated more than him, it was Gojo Shizuka.

“Do you know the conditions behind the binding vow between Fujiwara Akari and Gojo Subaru?”

“For the protection of Yuki Haruhi, Fujiwara Akari invoked the usage of the Spouse’s Promise.”

Gojo whistled loudly in response. That was unexpected. When he asked Haruhi about a possible binding vow, she had been clueless. Not that he could blame her. Considering that the Yuki Clan had effectively abandoned her, there wasn't anyone else who could have taken a binding vow on her behalf. Especially not the wife of the man she slept with and had a child with. Even though Gojo knew, he was still baffled beyond belief.

“A Spouse’s Promise, huh…”

Gojo wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had made various assumptions about his father’s former fiancé but he chalked it up to ignorance. All Gojo heard about her was second-hand knowledge like gossip, rumours and his grandmother’s displeased mutterings. So Gojo hadn’t anticipated that she would have ever gone to such lengths to protect his mother.

“I want the contract that was made between them,” Gojo ordered because he had to know what Akari, specifically, asked for. “Use your discretion when getting it.”

Spouse’s Promise. It was a clause that appeared within every marriage contract of the main line in the Gojo Clan. It had been created by a particularly love-struck Gojo Clan head back in the old days, who had bowed to his lover’s every whim. A promise from one lover to another which required one to compile and fulfil a singular wish of their partner –a stipulation that the elders had tried to crush to no avail. The only thing they managed to change was the name from Lover’s Wish to Spouse’s Promise. Gojo had cackled when he found out that there had been someone like that in his walking ice-block of a clan; a fact that he loved to rub into the elders’ faces.

Romance aside, the clause that had initially been a love declaration had eventually become a life raft for the spouses of the Gojo Clan heads. Unfortunately, it was a one-time-use artefact. From what Gojo had heard, most partners had used it for protection from the elders and clans or their own partners and those requests were always heeded. It wasn’t something that a Gojo Clan head could wiggle their way of out because, by their own rules and marriage laws, they were bound to follow the stipulations laid out by the Spouse’s Promise clause.

The elders called it a nuisance. Gojo called it karma.

Switching gears, Gojo asked, “Were you able to find Chisaki’s base of operations? I want everything you have on him.”

A firm nod was offered and then they relayed the information, “Recently, Chisaki relocated to Yokohama, citing new business ventures to anyone who asked. Any opposition was found disassembled in various landfill sites.”

Gojo chuckled, “Quite vicious, isn’t he?”

They continued stoically, “As of December 7, 1989…Project Yōkai was created and Chisaki’s manifesto involved the eradication of all curses and sorcerers.”

Everything went still.

“Many of his subordinates and close allies were eager to speak about Chisaki’s crazy ramblings. They mentioned that his germaphobia has been so exacerbated in recent years that he rarely leaves his warehouse.”

Rather convenient that this guy started his venture into genocide and curses on the day that Gojo arrived in this world –the day that this world’s Six Eyes was born. Though germaphobia was an odd adverse reaction to curses, something for him to look into it seemed.

“Can he see curses?”

“From our investigation, we have deduced that he is unable to do so. Chisaki was seen wearing a pair of glasses imbued with cursed energy –we could not identify whose. However, he does have an uncanny ability to locate curses and curse energy without them.”

Gojo sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his small chest. “Sixth sense, maybe?”

It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. There were cases –rare as it was –of non-sorcerers possessing enough cursed energy to sense curses and high amounts of negative energy, outside of near-death experiences like it was for most people. It was how psychics and mediums cropped up with their all-seeing third eyes and mumbo jumbo. Simply put, they didn’t even have enough cursed energy to think about being a window, let alone a jujutsu sorcerer, so these types of people existed as a result. So, it wasn’t weird that he could potentially sense curses but it didn’t spell anything good that this guy was taking his fear out on the local population.

A stray thought of ‘what if he’s like Toji’ was quickly dashed from his mind. Thinking such scary thoughts was going to make him go grey at four –a terrible look for a toddler. The deep growl that echoed in the back of his mind was skilfully ignored.

“What are his current goals aside from the obvious?”

“The information has not been divulged to anyone as far as we investigated. There has been increased activity within the warehouse located in Yokohama such as more shipping containers being brought in. More unnamed scientists and guards have also been recruited and there has been a steady disposal of bodies appearing in Nagoya. All fit the descriptions of the missing persons in Yokohama.”

Oddly enough, they seemed to hesitate as they continued, “We did discover that he keeps his most important documents in his office. However, we were unable to access his sensitive files as they were hidden behind talismans.”

Gojo huffed out an incredulous laugh, “Holy sh*t, a sorcerer –no, curse user is working with this guy. Did you get a look at the talismans?”

“Yes. The talismans were ancient and traditional. Similar to the ones used to seal Ryoumen Sukuna’s fingers.”

The Six Eyes narrowed in on that statement. That didn’t bode well. Using talismans of that kind to seal away some files for a Yakuza twink; it sounded like bullsh*t. Fair, the files most likely contained highly dangerous information concerning possible human experimentation and cursed energy but still. Someone knowledgeable enough to actively practice those types of talismans was few and far between. Gojo didn’t like it. No, not one bit.

“Is that all? Where will you be going after this?”

“Yes. We will be reporting back to Gojo Shizuka. Our mission involves Fujiwara Akari and the Six Eyes.”

The Six Eyes.

The thing in the back of his mind –the writhing mass of angerhatredagony –twitched and shifted like a beast waking up from a nap.

Gojo hated that name.

It had been his name first before he was ever Satoru. Being reduced down to his cursed technique, the Six Eyes, had been dehumanizing. Gojo hadn’t been considered a human to anyone –a deity to some and an omen to others but never a human. Suguru had changed that. Gojo cringed inwardly because why did it always circle back to Suguru. The last thing he wanted to do was think about his dead best friend.

Gojo clapped. The tense atmosphere, they had fallen into as a result of his foul mood, disappeared in an instant. He smiled widely and spread his arms out, looking to an outside perspective like a child playing a game rather than a man holding a meeting with his stolen spy network and assassins. “Moving on, do you have any news about the search on the Shinjuku Curse User?”

(It still tickled him pink that the name had turned into some weird title for his alter ego. Jujutsu Society will do everything else but fix their sh*tty system. Urgh, politics.)

Asking about himself never failed to get a kick out of Gojo, especially when he revelled in causing chaos for the Gojo Clan and the higher-ups. The pointed pause in the conversation made him giggle. Who knew these guys could take a f*cking joke?

“Let me rephrase, do they suspect anything?”

The Kodokushi dipped their head in acquiescence. “Currently, the only information to go off is that the curse user is male with a height of six feet or more. The witnesses of the Shinjuku Incident could not give an accurate description of the person due to the time of day but some did mention white hair.”

A six-foot man with white hair –thankfully, he wasn’t six-foot or a man. Being a toddler actually had some benefits.

‘But that can only last so long before reports of a white-haired child start pouring in. I’m lucky that I made it this far without being detected by anyone from Jujutsu Society. I’m going to have to change my image…albinism isn’t subject to the Gojo Clan only. Although the problem of the Six Eyes needs to be addressed…I could pretend to be blind as an excuse to use blacked-out glasses or a blindfold. Cursed energy needs to be suppressed all the time for it to stick though…urghh! I can’t think about this now!’

Gojo tongued the back of his teeth in frustration before clicking his tongue, “Report a sighting of the curse user in Tokyo. I want them as far away from Hokkaido as possible.”

“Yes, Gojo-sama.”

Gojo grimaced and shivered at the title. He made a shooing motion with his hands, dismissing them from his sight before he broke out into hives. They disappeared in the blink of an eye and only by the grace of his Six Eyes was he allowed to notice the inconsistent pattern with which they withdrew. It was always fascinating to watch. It also grossed him out to know the lengths his clan was willing to go to keep their secrets.

Absentmindedly, Gojo pulled out another lollipop from his pocket as he thought about his next course of action. He unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth, nearly groaning at the sugary taste. He had to go through a bit of a withdrawal period because Haruhi thought he was skipping towards a diabetic-filled grave and decided to strip him of all confectionaries. The only time Gojo was able to get away with sneaking snacks was when he was on missions –which sounded too much like his first life.

The growl returned. Deeper and throatier; it was reacting to a perceived underlying threat.

‘Something’s wrong.’

(No sh*t Sherlock. No one who heard voices and growls was sane.)

Gojo knew himself. Every facet of himself. Ever since he died at sixteen, Gojo had become intimately aware of himself, his mind and his body, as a result of the unlocked potential of the Six Eyes, meaning he knew there was something wrong. He had opted to ignore it at first but he couldn’t play ignorant forever. Not when he could feel it moving like sludge around his mind. It clawed to be let out. It wanted to tear and destroy and bathe in the blood of everyone. It craved destruction and death. It was also really f*cking annoying to have some crackhead’s voice always crooning like a drugged-up animal in the back of his mind.

(God, why was being alive so complicated?)

Gojo turned towards the sky –the way old people told time before the phone was invented –and cursed because it was late. Late enough that Haruhi was going to wring his ears as soon as he stepped through the door. He still had to adhere to his contract with that old man which meant involving himself with the Yakuza, a decidedly non-sorcerer criminal organization. Was Gojo a masoch*st? Willing to take missions as a reincarnated four-year-old when he was supposed to be celebrating his second life away from sh*t like this.

Anyway, thoughts on his questionable life choices aside, Gojo had a big decision ahead of him. Go or stay? Torture a Yakuza or risk Haruhi’s temper? The choice was simple.

‘If you’re late again, I’m force-feeding you boiled broccoli and cauliflower for the rest of the year.’

“f*ck it.” He muttered and teleported back to the Tenshi residence –a name he was coming to despise.

Gojo landed on the outskirts of the mansion, just outside the barrier that was standing protectively over the mansion. A bit of hijacked knowledge from the Gojo Clan was put to good use, it kept the property hidden and intruders out. The Gojo Clan’s proclivity for secrecy was quite handy when the odds fell in his favour. He fiddled with the candy wrapper in his pocket as he walked up the steps towards the house while debating on the numerous excuses he could give Haruhi. Hopefully, his good behaviour will get him a reduced sentence.

Just as he neared the door, a voice sounded through the wood. It was distinctly childish, high-pitched and familiar. “When’s Sora coming back?”

“He’ll be here before dinner,” The voice that was clearly Haruhi’s rang out, “At least, if he knows what’s good for him.”

f*ck.

Gojo teleported back to the abandoned warehouse in Furano because f*ck that sh*t.

Was Gojo running away? No.

Was Gojo hiding from a kid? Definitely not.

Then why was Gojo currently in an abandoned warehouse, contemplating raiding the base of a demented Yakuza member rather than at home with his lovely older sister? Because –shut the f*ck up!

At this point, Gojo would rather light himself on fire than face that kid again. He’d rather not make himself look like a fool for the third time in front of the same person. God, hadn’t that been a mess? Just thinking back to it made Gojo want to curl up in a ball and die and then some. He should have known it would up being a disaster but he had been hopeful –too blinded to see what was right in front of him. And the fact that it was not the first but the second time that it happened was downright embarrassing.

Drowning in an indescribable emptiness was a f*cking understatement of how Gojo felt at that moment.

“Suguru?”

All noise had been reduced to a faint buzz. Gojo stared, transfixed. It was as if all the answers to his problems stood in front of him, compressed in an explosive little three-foot package of sunshine. He waited. Sweat dotted his hairline as the silence dragged on longer than necessary. Despite not looking at Haruhi, he could vividly picture the look on her face. He didn’t like it.

“Sora-” She halted, conflicted. They drowned in the growing dread. The silence growing pointed.

The pregnant pause that followed before the inevitable, “Huh? Who’s Suguru?”

All the air was instantly sucked out of the atmosphere. And Gojo suffocated.

Gojo shrieked. He grabbed chucks of his hair and yanked, as if trying to dislodge the memory from his head, “Get out of my head!”

He let out a series of controlled breaths while trying to banish that moment from his mind. He groaned loudly and dragged his hand down his face. The exhaustion was making itself known on his face; the darkened half-moons under his eyes, the stress lines on his cherubic face and the reddened sclera of his eyes. No toddler should look so stressed. f*ck, Gojo was going to age like milk if he kept this up.

“This is f*cking ridiculous…” Gojo sighed, “Why was he there in the first place?”

Gojo knew why he was there. The kid got attached and was making his existence Gojo’s problem. He clicked his tongue. He couldn’t go home to the cause of his distress; that was just asking for some kind of nightmare-ensued hallucination –yeah, that was apparently a thing now.

“Screw this. I’ve got a Yakuza to f*ck with.”

(As the poets say: when in crisis, run away from your problems. Gojo was talking out of his ass.)

With a heavy sigh, Gojo teleported to the port city of Yokohama.

Tokyo – Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical College

Yaga sighed and tossed another useless file onto his table. It had been a year and then some since the Shinjuku Curse User had appeared and they still had no leads. As someone who was placed on the case, the pressure coming from the upper echelons was getting worse the longer they failed to even catch a whiff of the guy. The Gojo Clan’s insistence on placing themselves at the helm wasn’t helping. On the other end, the Kamo Clan and the Zenin Clan –especially them –were frothing at the mouth, throwing every resource around to peel back a layer of the infamous Gojo Clan’s visage. After all, it was mind-boggling to see the Gojo Clan get so involved in something as wide-reaching as the search Shinjuku Curse User.

‘Maybe they had something to do with it…’ Yaga thought.

It wasn’t completely insane to entertain such a thought since the Shinjuku Curse User had appeared on the day the Six Eyes had been born. The unknown man’s cursed energy had rivalled that of the newly born deity –another reason for the elders’ stress in locating the man –and, most interestingly, was the description of the man’s appearance which included white hair. A prominent Gojo Clan characteristic that was hard to find unless a person was born with albinism.

“Or maybe…a rogue member?” Yaga muttered while picking up another file. Most of the tips and statements he had received had either been false reports or trails leading to nowhere. Whoever the curse user was, they were smart and they knew how Jujutsu Society worked. It lent itself to the theory that the man had been living among them as a ghost, watching them for years before finally executing whatever plan he had concocted on the day the Six Eyes was born. That begged the question: why? Why did he specifically choose the day of the Six Eyes' birth? Did that mean that he knew the Six Eyes was going to be born?

“That’s a whole can of worms that I’m not paid enough to even touch…” Yaga lamented because it meant that the Gojo Clan –a clan known for its vicious secrecy –had a spy among them. Who could be brave or stupid enough to even think about spying on such a clan? A terrifying thought, indeed.

But as exciting of a conjecture as it was –someone fooling the arrogantly inhuman Gojo Clan –it was inherently wrong based on the fact that the Six Eyes couldn’t be predicted. No one knew when a member of the Gojo Clan could be born with the infamous cursed technique. Not even the mother of the child would know. It was what made it so dangerous; the unpredictability of it. Another reason why everyone had been so caught off-guard on December 7^th was because no one expected it. It had been four hundred years since the last Six Eyes had been born and the Gojo Clan, despite how powerful they were, were slowly dying off as they grew smaller and smaller each generation. The unease that lingered about another user being born had lessened until their guards were all down. And look at how that turned out.

“Maybe it was a coincidence that he appeared on that day.” The teacher pondered while pulling out the first file that detailed the event from start to finish.

The Shinjuku Curse User emerged on December 7^th, 1989 in the middle of Shinjuku City. Eye-witness reports stated that the man was bloodied from head to toe, except for his hair –which reports gathered was either snow white or grey coloured. Possible Gojo Clan member? According to a couple of witness statements, the man had looked confused (likely shaken or in shock) and had ducked into an alley shortly after. Investigation of the alleyway confirmed that it was a dead-end. Teleportation was the most probable conclusion based on the swift exit. Outside help? No other curse energy was registered besides the curse user’s energy –non-sorcerer help possibly?

Curse User was reported to have been on the grounds of the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu Technical High not long after his subsequent disappearance in Shinjuku. Tengen-sama has remained silent on the matter.

Rereading the report didn’t provide Yaga with another perspective or any more clues. If anything, it just gave him heartburn because of all the compounding stress. And that’s all without taking in the very real possibility that this Shinjuku Curse User might not be a human at all. Yes, that was also a theory. Yes, it sounded like a whole bag of stupid mixed with a sh*tload of ridiculousness. But it also made a whole lot of sense. One of his subordinates had off-handedly mentioned the timing of the curse user’s arrival being odd and how the sudden flux of curse energy felt like a true omen as compared to the Six Eye’s birth.

The antithesis of the Six Eyes was what she called it.

That could only be a curse being expelled into the world to restore the balance. While it sounded like a bunch of bullsh*t, Yaga was seriously considering it to be the case. He had never encountered an intelligent curse –but there was a first for everything. However, the problem with that theory was that it sounded like a load of crock-sh*t to anyone on the other end of the conversation so Yaga was gagged on telling anyone. Least of all the higher-ups. They were already losing their minds over the Six Eyes and the Shinjuku Curse User; there was no reason to send them into cardiac arrest even if it would give him an exorbitant amount of joy to do so.

Yaga let out a tired groan. Yanking open his desk drawer, he threw the file back inside so he didn’t have to see it anymore. The less he saw it, the less likely he would suffer from acute hair loss. Yaga plopped himself down on his office chair, tired beyond belief and then his eyes fell on the tower of case files sitting messily on the corner of his desk.

Why did Yaga feel like death in his early twenties?

Stretching over the distance between where he sat and where the files sat, he groaned at the extra stretch. When his fingers brushed against one of the numerous manila folders sticking out like sore thumbs in the pile, he clamped his index and middle fingers on it and pulled. The tower wobbled from the force and then, in slow motion, it slumped and tipped over into a sad puddle across the expanse of his desk. Yaga sighed. He was doing a lot of that nowadays.

Unwilling to deal with that, Yaga leaned back in his chair –it was the recliner he managed to finally buy for himself because if he was going to be stuck in an office all day then he wanted to at least be comfortable. He propped the file on his chest and opened it, his eyes blurrily skimming over the information yet not taking in anything. Yaga blinked and tried again.

“What?”

Yaga sat up so fast that his desk skidded back, folders sitting on the edge toppled over onto the floor.

“What the f*ck is going on in Yokohama?”

Yokohama – Warehouse 4

“Sir, subject A140 died during testing.”

Chisaki lifted his head, regarding the scraggly-looking man with anger and disgust. “Why are you here?”

The scientist froze, the clipboard in his hands starting to tremble under the darkened gaze of his boss. And Chisaki was his boss. Probably was going to be his boss for the foreseeable future unless the Oyabun miraculously awakened from his coma. God, he wished the man would wake up. If only to save them and their entire organization from his psychotic son. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of Asahi’s face as his hands squeezed the board between his fingers in increments. He had spent the last half-hour psyching himself up behind his boss’ door before he even attempted knocking –even then he almost lost himself overthinking on what type of knock would irritate his boss the least. After all of that, Asahi couldn’t chicken out now!

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-No, sir!” The man scrambled back and through the doors, making sure his feet weren’t even touching the threshold of the doorway. He dropped into a deep bow, his forehead nearly kissing his knees in his fear, “I apologize for my insubordination!”

The dangerous aura around Chisaki lessened enough that Asashi could breathe again without thinking he was about to be shot in the head. His body was still rattling from the fear that he tried to stamp down; it was a fruitless endeavour because he could see his foot shaking out of the corner of his eye. Asahi gulped down his terror and tried once again to inform his boss of their unsuccessful experiment –another unsuccessful experiment.

“Excuse me, sir but subject-”

“Subject A140 died during testing…” Chisaki nearly growled out.

‘Had been dead for days’ goes unsaid. Asashi didn’t have a death wish.

“It has been transferred to Level B for testing.”

The boss clicked his tongue, “Kill it. It’s a waste of my time.”

The anger in the man’s voice made Asahi want to cry. Why was he delegated this job? It wasn’t fair. All because those sh*tty bastards decided to elect him as messenger while he had gone to take a piss –those damn cowards didn’t want to be the ones to tell boss that their most promising subject had died in a matter of days. So here Asahi was, bearing the brunt of their cowardice and trickery. He was going to shove a needle so far up their asses that they were going to be throwing up psychedelics for days. Provided Asashi survived his boss’s temper and irrational behaviour.

“Begin the new trials and use the new subjects we got this week.”

Asahi gulped and nodded his head rapidly, “Y-Yes, sir!”

Before the scientist could run away with his tail between his legs, his voice rang out, “A267. Has there been any progress with it?”

Asahi’s eyes widened. The fact that boss had explicitly asked about a subject meant there was something important they needed from him. However, he was sure his answer was just going to piss the man off so he carefully chose his next words, “A267 is still alive. Further testing has been delayed as he had gone unresponsive after our first breakthrough.”

“It.”

Confused, the question tumbled out of his mouth without thinking, “What?”

“A267 is not a person. Merely disgusting unclean things taking on the form of humans. It is not human. Do not treat it as such.”

Asahi gulped down his instinct to prostrate for forgiveness and, instead, dropped his head in a deep bow. What was he meant to say to that? He couldn’t disagree and refute the man’s claims when he was just as guilty of thinking the same. Thinking of them as something non-human, unnatural and a curse was the only way anyone in this place could stomach the sort of experiments they were doing. But he had slipped up today. Calling a subject ‘he’ –a person and making it human –when he knew how Chisaki hated such things.

Was Asahi about to die?

“My apologies, sir.”

After a tense moment of waiting for his boss to speak, a word was uttered. “Leave.”

And Asahi booked it out of there.

Chisaki watched with a horribly repulsed look plastered across his mask-covered face. It really took skill to display such a clear caricature of revulsion in only one’s eyes. The Yakuza boss scoffed and picked up another file from his desk with a gloved hand, his eyes scanning through the information with disinterest. He had received a new batch of subjects earlier this week from his benefactor; all of different ages and backgrounds, all originating from Japan.

All having that wretchedness etched into their souls.

Chisaki sneered, “This is starting to become tedious.”

Chisaki had shifted the focus of the Yakuza around two years ago. After the incident with his father, he had plunged straight into hell, using every resource and contact on hand to start his own experimental research study into the monsters that hid within the shadows. It had already been in the works, he had even set up his own little department despite his father’s apprehension. But now that the title of Oyabun had fallen into his hands, Chisaki had access to a wealth of resources he’d never had before. It was a taxing endeavour, requiring new subjects almost every month on account of the high mortality rates during the trials. Obtaining such a large amount had already been pushing it, forcing him to move out here to Yokohama –a city filled with mysterious deaths. The second he stepped into this place, it had him instantly breaking out into hives. But it had been worth it because he had found something even more fascinating.

Chisaki had met it.

“That thing needs to send me subjects from outside Japan.” He muttered while he flipped through the file. Maybe there’d been a change in the results if they looked outside this infested country.

Chisaki stopped on a particular profile. It was a child, barely hitting the five-year mark when it was brought in. It was a curious little thing, fascinating enough for it to make an appearance. Chisaki had admitted that he had initially been intrigued; the child had the potential to display a unique ability however its state of mind was another thing altogether. It was during the first few weeks after settling in Yokohama that a few of his subordinates had happened upon the brat while scrounging the slums for some local subjects. From his men’s accounts, the little eyesore hadn’t even put up a fight.

Chisaki scanned the information his scientists had recorded on it. Most of it was approximations and fill-ins because the brat refused to answer their questions, even under threat of harm or persuasion.

Name: A267 (Yamada Taro)

Age: 5

Hair Colour: Brown

Eye Colour: Brown

Sex: Male

Bloodline: Unknown (Orphan)

Cursed Technique: Unable to Confirm

Status: Alive

Notes: A267 possesses the ability to see curses. This was confirmed after several tests whereby a Grade 4 curse was introduced every day until the subject acknowledged and verbally accredited the presence of the curse. This process took two months as the subject was uncooperative and unresponsive to any and all outside stimulation such as physical and verbal persuasions. Currently, tests are being conducted on whether the subject possesses a ‘cursed technique’. However, we are unsure of the form that this technique may take and are unable to perform viable tests.

Current Testing Phase: Pending…

Regardless of the brat’s uses, A267 paled in comparison to the goldmine that was the Uchiha Clan. The closest they had gotten was A140, an illegitimate child of a distant relative of the Uchiha but the thing had been flighty, quick to anger and fear and even quicker to die. While it had been an absolutely useless endeavour, testing had confirmed that the Uchiha Clan had something different in their genes or as that thing would say, their souls were wired differently.

Now, if only he had one of their detestable children in his grasp, he was sure- no, Chisaki knew they would have made a break in their research.

But the Uchiha clan had grown weary with the constant death that seemed to follow them, and after he had begun his hunt, they had locked everyone behind their clan walls. Of course, a few slipped through like Uchiha Kagami and his wife. Chisaki had hoped to at least get their corpses or one of their children for his efforts but Uchiha Madara had swiftly stepped in. After that, any and all access to the Uchiha Clan had been stamped out. Vicious cruelty emerging from the deaths of his son and daughter-in-law had even halted its attempts at acquiring a Uchiha child.

And don’t even get him started on that joke of a cult that had sprung up out of nowhere in Hokkaido. While Chisaki had initially scoffed at their efforts, they were becoming a nuisance to his work since any subjects he could have gotten from Hokkaido were now temporarily off-limits. He would have to squash it as soon as possible if he wanted to get anything done.

“S-Sir!”

“Why are you here again?” Chisaki nearly growled out. He hated when these vermin entered his spaces, bringing their filth into his sanctuary. While they were cleaner than those things they kept in the basem*nt, that didn’t mean he liked them more.

All humans were disgusting and the stain on their souls needed to be purged.

“Someone stole our subjects! And they- they killed all the experiments!”

“What.”

Indeed, someone did steal the subjects. All of their subjects. Every single last one had been taken from him. Any progress they had made in the last two years had been destroyed, alongside all of the curses they had been keeping captive. His scientists were all in crumpled heaps on the ground, groaning as if they had been shot while his guards were all completely passed out. There was smoke trailing out from the basem*nt cell block, it stunk of charred meat and decayed flesh.

In their place, a note was left behind. Chisaki eyed it with his characteristic palpable disgust emanating from every pore in his body. With a flick of his head towards the paper note, Asahi plucked the note up and opened it, tilting it towards his boss but not before catching what had been written. It took everything in the man not to laugh in his boss’ face.

╰⋃╯

You definitely didn’t escape the Asian stereotype! Sucks to suck, my guy 😛

Chisaki snatched the letter from Asahi’s shaky fingers and crushed it in his hand, a thunderous expression adorning his face. Looks like humiliation trumped germaphobia. The growl that left his mouth was downright murderous, as was the look in his eyes which shocked Asahi out of his inward celebration of his boss’ embarrassment and straight back into trembling subservience.

“I want this person caught and brought to me.” Chisaki commanded stiffly, “Do you understand?”

Asahi gulped and nodded in quick succession, “Yes, sir!”

Whoever this f*ck was, they were going to pay for making a fool out of him.

“Sir! They’ve burnt the research stations and records as well!”

Meanwhile, Gojo arrived back at the estate after a very successful day out, toting a group of individuals behind him proudly. He proceeded to dump them on Haruhi in favour of the new pastries and sweets that Sako-san had bought for him. The entre day had been perfect in Gojo’s perspective. He had the Gojo Clan’s minions under his thumb, he avoided having to see Not-Suguru, he messed with that creepy twink of a germaphobe f*ck and saved a couple of people in the process and, best of all, he got his daily diet’s worth of sugar.

Haruhi had not appreciated his overt enthusiasm and laid into him for his carelessness. Gojo was sure his ears would be stinging for the rest of his life with how hard his older sister had yanked at them.

One Week Later

Chitose – Children of the Sky Estate

“You’re ignoring him.”

It wasn’t a question clearly.

Gojo ignored Haruhi, his eyes fixated on his Game Boy as the sounds drowned out Haruhi’s huff of frustration. It was a much more useful waste of his time compared to listening to her bitch and moan about some kid. He bit into another mochi ball –a chocolate-filled one this time, score! –into his mouth and audibly groaned at the appropriate times, namely when Haruhi said that brat’s name. His older sister sent him a positively vitriol look and his response was a cheeky smile.

‘I can do this all day.’ Haruhi knew that too. She was very accustomed to Gojo running away and ignoring his problems. He doesn’t know why she tried.

“Jin is getting good at making these,” Gojo mumbled around another mocha ball –red bean paste which was always a classic –while skilfully ignoring another attempt of Haruhi bringing up issues that should have died eons ago.

Haruhi muttered a very unkind word under her breath, something he would have jokingly chided her about if he was paying attention. But he wasn’t. No, he was focused on reliving his childhood in the form of an unholy amount of sweets and video games. It was surprisingly nice considering he had never been allowed such luxuries as an actual child –if he ignored the glaring issue of Haruhi and her entirely unhelpful and unneeded suggestions. His nose scrunched as he glared at the little digitalized character on the console, it was being chased down by a pixelated blob that looked oddly like a curse.

“Shisui came for you again today.”

Gojo cursed as the character died. He tossed the Game Boy aside and stood up from the couch, boredom rearing its ugly head. There wasn’t much a toddler could do in the 90s, at least compared to his adult self in the future so he was at a loss on how to stave off the hold in his chest. Gojo could always mess with that Yakuza guy –he had left the man to his own devices after stealing all his hostages and burning all of his sh*t so it wouldn’t hurt to check on what the guy was up to. And Gojo had an arsenal of dick jokes under his belt, specifically for him.

Bored. Yeah, that was new.

While raiding the Yakuza guy’s warehouse, it started speaking. At first, it was simple words like kill –a repeated word that Gojo was now sick of hearing from anyone –and then it had been full sentences, then it was questions and now it was whatever this was. It had developed quickly, like a toddler on steroids. It had a personality. It had its own thoughts and feelings. And it lived in Gojo’s head.

‘What do you want to do?’

Bored. Okay, not very talkative today.

“Nee-san, I’m going out,” Gojo called out, already making his way to the foyer of the house. He didn’t know what he was going to do but anything was better than being stuck in this place, listening to Haruhi harp on about some kid. Maybe he could go to an arcade? Do they allow toddlers in? Eh, he could bribe them or something.

“Who’s Suguru?”

Gojo halted in his steps, his breath caught in his chest. His only thought was to ignore her, to start walking away as if he had never heard her despite how obvious his reaction was. Yet, he couldn’t. Gojo was stuck. Unable to move after hearing someone else, someone that wasn’t him utter the name of his best friend. Why was she doing this? Why did she insist on forcing this issue? Why did she care? All those questions made him stall even though she continued unheeded alongside the shock of hearing that name from someone’s lips.

“It’s been a month and I let it go…” Haruhi continued softly, the fragility in her tone that made him think she was seconds away from breaking, “…because I thought you would eventually talk about it. But-”

“What makes you think that I want to talk about it with you?” Gojo’s voice was frigid as he cut her off, so different from how he normally spoke to the older girl. He didn’t understand. Why was she doing this? Everything had been fine until now. Gojo kept his secrets and Haruhi didn’t ask questions. That had been their relationship since they met and he had been keen on keeping that unspoken rule for the rest of his life. What had changed? Why did she care? She wasn’t actually sister like he claimed –or his mother for that matter. Gojo was just some kid who offered her salvation from her dreary fate. Did she want something from him? Was this all part of the plan to get him to talk about his mounting secrets?

‘I don’t understand.’

As a child, Gojo didn’t understand many things. Especially, things about humans and their desires and their emotions. It wasn’t uncommon for children of the Gojo Clan to undergo such an experience of confusion, to feel detached and devoid and not understanding why because it was practically a rite of passage. After all, the Gojo Clan was the unfeeling clan. The clan held themselves apart from everyone like Gods among mortals, impartial and indifferent to anyone and everything. Gojo Satoru had been expected to be much of the same, to follow in line with the other children and cut himself off from the world.

But Satoru had been different because he wasn’t just another child in the clan. Satoru was the Six Eyes.

Satoru saw things differently and, in turn, was seen differently by everyone else. And in the face of his power, apathy had lost the battle. For a clan that boasted and trained indifference into infants before they had a chance to walk, Satoru didn’t understand the reverent and deferential gazes that his clansman aimed at him –why did they look at him differently? The way they bent over backwards to accommodate him, he didn’t understand why they cared so much.

Satoru had gone through his younger years not knowing until he did.

The ‘care’ that people had for him came at a price. His grandmother cared for him but only because he furthered her own agenda. His clan cared for him but only because he was the Six Eyes. Jujutsu Society cared for him but only because they didn’t want to get on his bad side. People didn’t care for him. That’s just what they said when they wanted something from him. Ergo, Satoru decided that he didn’t want their ‘care’ –not when he could see through it.

Funnily enough, his parents were the only exception to the rule. With his father, that man never cared for him. He never tried to care for him, falsely trying and failing like the rest of the world but then that man never cared for anything –not even himself. While his mother had cared, in the scant few minutes before her death, she had cared enough about his safety and happiness but not enough. Not enough for it to matter.

Gojo’s perspective changed when he left for Jujutsu High. Through Suguru and Shoko, he realised that people did have the capacity to care without wanting anything in return. But those people only came to care after knowing him, after he bared just the slightest hints of his heart to them.

Haruhi didn’t know him. Not really in the way that mattered. So how could she care? That meant that she wanted something from him, right? That was the only answer.

“Stop talking sh*t, Haruhi.”

Why did Haruhi think that Gojo would ever talk to her about Suguru when she didn’t even know his real name?

Suguru was sacred. Talking about him even more so. How could Gojo even begin to talk about Suguru? How could he dare speak of Suguru when he knew once he started, he would never stop? So he never did, alive or dead. Not to Shoko. Not to Nanami. Not to Megumi. Not to his students. The ghost of Suguru and the pain of him leaving, his death and their relationship had been his burden to bear in silence. It was something he had done from that fateful day until the day he died. How could Gojo even fathom speaking of his dead best friend to a veritable stranger…when he could even utter a word about him to the ones he was closest to?

How could Gojo spill his heart out, every nitty gritty detail of it, when Haruhi didn’t even know who he really was?

“I’m leaving. Don’t bother me.” That was supposed to be the end of it.

Gojo should have known where he got his audacity from.

“I know you’re not who you claimed to be, I’m not stupid, Sora.” The steel in her voice stopped him once more; as did the slight mocking tone of the name she had gifted him.

Ah, so that was the route she was going.

Gojo resisted the urge to snort because his not-mother would never be stupid, especially not with the way she wielded that name with such clever emotional manipulation. Using his affection for her, his obvious care for the name she bestowed on him reminded him so much of his grandmother. Cawing on about duty and family and how her blood had to stay on the throne like some kind of medieval queen in the middle of a succession war –though that wasn’t far off from what actually happened –and all had been done with a sweet smile on her face and kindness that could kill. Baby Satoru had never stood a chance.

Bitter amusem*nt and mild resentment surged through his veins. “You’ve got some nerve-”

“Sora…I have been by your side every step of the way and I have seen you at your worst. I know you carry a burden so heavy that you think you have to shoulder it yourself but you don’t have to. I am here.”

Haruhi was intelligent. Perceptive too, enough so that she saw through him from the moment he landed on her doorstep, broken and bloody. She saw through his lies and his masks and his words and his feelings and despite all of it, she still took him in and nursed him back to health, she still followed him and ‘cared’ for him. And Haruhi did all of that without asking anything from him. She didn’t ask questions and she didn’t question his decisions. Haruhi had not said anything until now. Had she just been biding her time until she could cash in the favour her ‘care’ bought her?

“I also know I’m not owed answers from you, about where you came from or who you are considering how much you’ve done for me but-…I would like to know you. ” She said when he refused to speak, her voice even softer and gentler. “I would like to talk to you, to know your thoughts and fears and what makes you happy. I would like to be someone you depend on but I can’t do that if you don’t give me a chance.”

Unwilling, his mouth opened and the words poured about without his consent, “And if I never-…if I can never give you that chance.” Why was his throat so tight? His eyes were burning. He doesn’t think that he hurt them earlier. Did he mistakenly rub the mochi in them?

“Then I’ll keep trying even if you shun me for the rest of your life, Sora. Even if you hate me for it, I’ll keep trying because I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy and I’m going to do everything to make sure that you are. Because I love you.”

Oh.

Gojo blinked in confusion. That tone, he had heard it before, only once and it was when she spoke of her son and now, it was being used on him. He knew it wasn’t the same tone his grandmother used whenever she wanted something from him because he had trained himself to recognise the hidden intention in words such as: You wouldn’t let your uncle hurt us? Your cousin infringed on the main house and your claim, Satoru? You know, I always want what’s best for you. But this was different. Haruhi’s voice was different –so different that it was basically night and day in comparison.

It reminded him of something. Something he had forgotten.

‘My sky, you deserve all the happiness in the world…’

Oh. Haruhi sounded exactly like her. His mother, so long ago, had said those words to him before he left her to her fate.

“And I know that you deserve so much better than a teenager who can hardly save herself but I can’t let you suffer alone like this. I will always be here for you, no matter what.” Her voice was self-deprecating despite it soothing nature as she desperately tried to reach him.

The difference between Haruhi and Shizuka couldn’t be more apparent. One used their manipulations out of malice and power while the other out of love and care –intentional versus unintentional. Or maybe Gojo had been completely wrong from the beginning and Haruhi wasn’t doing anything but being caring because that was who she was? The simplest answer is usually the correct one but that didn’t make it easier for someone to swallow. And Gojo was having the hardest time choking back his grief as it was.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

(Why? Why do you care? Gojo didn’t understand.)

‘I understand now.’

The motherly tone, so effortlessly kind in the face of his disquiet, cold rejection and accusations –Gojo would have given everything to hear such words as a child. His vision blurred as he stared unseeingly at the ground, willing back the tears that had formed in his eyes.

“I am here for you, Sora. Your sister is here.” Haruhi said firmly, her hands sliding over his shoulders and pulling him against her chest. She hugged him close to her, close enough that he could feel her stuttered breaths against his skin and the thumping of her heartbeat on his back. “I will not leave, my sky.”

‘Ah…is this what it’s like to have a mother?’

Gojo didn’t stop the rush of tears that poured from his eyes. His shoulders hunched as his vision blurred, hot streaks sliding down the surface of his flushed cheeks. He didn’t make a sound. He never did when he cried –a rare occasion itself. Gojo let Haruhi turn him around, gently guiding his head into the crook of her shoulder where he could comfortably hide his face. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Haruhi’s arms wrapped themselves around his small body, encasing protectively in her embrace and shielding him from the rest of the world. Just like a mother would. Gojo didn’t hug back, couldn’t even muster the effort to raise his arms but he did dig his face further into the little haven that was Haruhi’s shoulder.

It was nice. Having someone caring solely about him and his happiness and safety –Gojo hadn’t had that in years.

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever before Gojo decided to pull away. He averted his eyes from the soft smile and tender gaze, feeling out of his depth and vulnerable. Damnit, how could he lose his cool like that? He was a man, not a child! As if reading his thoughts, Haruhi snorted in his face, amusem*nt colouring her features. Gojo’s cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment as he pouted in indignation and crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.

“Sorry, I’m not laughing at you- it’s just-” Haruhi giggled again like she couldn’t help herself.

Gojo narrowed his eyes on her, “Just what!”

“Your cheeks look like strawberry mochi when you blush.”

It took Gojo a moment to register her words before he spluttered in denial. Haruhi laughed even harder at his reaction, poking and squishing his chubby cheeks. Even when Gojo started punching her arm softly in retaliation, she merely snorted and grabbed him, ruffling his hair and tickling him until loud giggles and snorts burst from his lips. Haruhi only stopped when he called time-out, pleading and begging for mercy while breathing heavily from the totally unfair attack.

“How dare you-”

“Haruhi-san!”

Both of their heads snapped in the direction of the sound. Gojo would have laughed at the picture they made if he wasn’t already busy freaking out of that voice. It was that kid. Why the f*ck was he here?

“Ah- sh*t!” The whispered curse had Gojo’s eyes snapping towards his sister, suspicion forming in his gut.

“What the f*ck did you do, nee-san?”

Idly, Gojo watched as Haruhi’s shoulders, which were previously tense and pulled taunt, relaxed at the familiar name. he wouldn’t admit it to her or even himself, but he also felt a smidgen of relief at calling Haruhi that again.

“I’m sorry, alright!” She whispered furiously, “I invited him over earlier and all I had to do was keep you distracted and here until he arrived.”

“I was distracted and here before you started talking about him!” Gojo said with a dramatic hand wave towards where the voice had echoed from. “Sneaking behind my back like this…how could you, nee-san?”

Haruhi twitched at his words before coming back swinging, “I forgot about it! I was just gonna irritate you a little by mentioning him, I didn’t think that you’d genuinely get angry. And then you got up to leave and I panicked –which I’m really sorry about ‘cause I shouldn’t have forced you like that, especially when you already told me to stop but-! Haaa…then we fought and you had a mental breakdown-”

“I did not have a mental breakdown!”

“-so I forgot!”

The pinched look on Gojo’s face didn’t dissipate, “But why is he here?” He barely managed to keep himself from hissing out the question like a disgruntled kitten.

“I thought you two could bond on a play date.” Haruhi pouted, looking every bit the teenager she actually was combined with her impulsivity and shirt-sightedness. Sometimes, Gojo forgot how young she really was when she usually acted so mature.

Gojo raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “What makes you think I won’t teleport outta here the second that kid enters this room?”

“Because I will be very disappointed.” The unimpressed look was reflected back at him on Haruhi’s face –god, they really were mother and son, huh. Then Haruhi leaned in closely, a glint in her dark eyes, “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”

f*ck. She's right. But Gojo would rather die –again –than give her the satisfaction of admitting it. Using emotional manipulation to get him to do what she wants. He’d been right all along. He was never going to doubt himself again, ever.

Instead of answering, Gojo turned his face away and pouted heavily. His bottom lip quivered and tears swelled in his eyes, his bright blue irises shining until it tipped over as tears started to drip down the planes of his cheeks. His already reddened eyes, irritated from previously crying, got even redder and swollen. A hiccup escaped his lips, his breath stuttering in his chest as he struggled to keep his cries choked down.

“Oh, Sora. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me!” Haruhi apologised in a panic as she swept him into her arms. “I’ll send him away. You don’t have to worry. And I won’t push you anymore.”

When Haruhi tucked Gojo’s face back into her neck, she had no way of seeing the utterly devious smile spreading across his face.

Haruhi wasn’t the only one fluent in using other’s empathy to her advantage. After all, Gojo had grown up under Gojo Shizuka and she had been a master of manipulation until the day she died.

“Oh, Haruhi-san! There you are!”

Ah, sh*t. Too late.

Haruhi let go of him to address the little goblin while subtly pushing Gojo behind her back, her taller form hiding him away from prying eyes. Blue eyes snapped towards the elder girl, confusion evident in them because wasn’t this exactly what she wanted? Despite his scepticism, Gojo curled into himself, making his body smaller so he wasn’t peeking out from behind Haruhi’s edges.

“Shisui-kun! Where’s Twice?” Haruhi called out –sh*t, she was so nervous, where did all her vaulted confidence and acting skills go?!

The kid hummed loudly, still moving closer to the pair without stopping. “There was no one at the front so I came looking for you.”

‘Pretentious brat. Who storms into someone else’s home and walks through their house unattended? He was a heathen. Nothing like his dear Suguru.’

(Note: After going so long without Geto Suguru, Gojo developed an idealised version of his dead best friend in his head. Thoughts and opinions will be misleading and will not be accurate depictions of Geto Suguru’s character.)

“Why don’t you wait for me in the foyer? I still have some work to finish up in here and then I’ll call Sora for your playdate.” She attempted to steer the kid in the opposite direction.

Haruhi backed up while speaking which forced Gojo to move with her, his steps notably quieter but fell in perfect sync with her. Unsure of what she was doing, he continued to walk backwards until he brushed up against something. With a glance, Gojo noted the couch that he had been lounging on and after a slight nudge from Haruhi, he dove behind it so he wasn’t forced to hinder and shadow Haruhi’s movements.

“But you said that he’d already be here.” The accusation was so innocently posed, filled with disappointment and probably a wobbly pout to boot, that even Gojo had a hard time cursing out the kid.

Haruhi laughed, the rattling uneasiness of it an indication of how nervous and uncomfortable she was about lying to a toddler. Gojo couldn’t blame her, instead, he commended her effort to stay strong because if it had been a baby Megumi –oh f*ck, a baby Yuuji –that had come up to him and talked like that, he would have folded in a heartbeat.

“I-…Sora got held up with some things and-”

Watching Haruhi flounder as she tried to come up with excuses so that Gojo didn’t have to face the kid was embarrassing and heart-warming in equal measure. He watched the interaction with the curiosity of a cat, wondering how the kid would react –except he didn’t. It was weird, how Gojo could trace the shadow of Suguru in every single action; from the way he ran his fingers through his messy curls to the way he scratched the back of his neck. Everything about this kid screamed Suguru. Everything inside of Gojo, his very soul, screamed for Suguru. Yet, that kid wasn’t his Suguru.

‘Argh…why is this so frustrating?’ Anything involving Suguru was always so over-complicated and annoying despite how much he cherished his dead best friend.

And as interesting as it was to watch Haruhi scramble around, unable to lie to the kid’s face about his whereabouts, it was starting to get painful.

Gojo took another look at the kid’s face and winced, ‘Damnit, why did he have to look like Suguru when he was trying and failing to hide his disappointment?’

Without a sound or a word to Haruhi, Gojo teleported from behind the couch and into the next room over, ears picking up how his older sister still fumbled around for some sort of excuse. In the few precious moments alone, Gojo took some time to gather himself before he made one of the most impulsive decisions of his life.

Steeling himself, he walked out of the room and into the lounge. Haruhi’s head shot up at the sound of his purposefully loud footsteps, her dark eyes widening as her head whipped back and forth between where he had been behind the couch and where he was currently standing.

“S-Sora…” She mumbled in confusion. She didn’t understand why he was here –why, after so vehemently denying her at every chance, he was making his presence known.

The kid spun around the second Gojo’s name left Haruhi’s lips. His dark brown eyes widen with excitement and happiness, such a contrast to the slowly darkening gaze under his older sister’s words. “Sora!”

Goddamnit, why did Gojo suddenly feel like an asshole after denying the kid for weeks?

“Shisui…” His voice was reluctant, uncomfortable with saying the kid’s name when his soul was screaming to say another’s.

“You made it!” Shisui bounded forward, curly hair bouncing along with him as he got up and personal with Gojo, invading his bubble with the subtleness of a bull in a china shop. “When Haruhi-san said that you couldn’t make it, I was worried but since you’re here, I don’t have to worry so much.”

If there was one thing that Gojo had noticed, it was that Shisui was very articulate for his age. The kid was a year older than him and spoke with a tone and vocabulary akin to a well-versed teenager. it might have been hypocritical to come from him but Gojo wasn’t actually a child, just a man that had shrunk into a child to cope with dying. But Shisui was a child. He had been born into this universe, the progeny of two very real and very important people and the grandson to an infamous non-sorcerer clan. Shisui had history and while that history boosted prodigies and geniuses galore, Gojo had his doubts that it presented in the way that it did with this kid.

Gojo knew a thing or two about prodigies and geniuses –after all, he was one himself. But even he didn’t have this level of social awareness at Shisui’s age. It was only after he started taking lessons with his grandmother that he understood more. Maybe Shisui just had a high EQ? But that wouldn’t explain how well he speaks for a five-year-old.

‘Looks like I’ll have to contact that old man about his weird grandkid.’

“Yeah sorry about being late…” Gojo apologized awkwardly, his eyes darting away from the shining brown ones of the kid. “Actually, I’m going out. Do you wanna come with?”

Gojo didn’t know what on God’s green earth possessed him to ask that but he could hardly take it back now, especially with that look aimed at him –full of hope and wonder. Maybe if the kid had thrown a tantrum then Gojo would have been less likely to help assuage the kid’s sadness. But Shisui was surprisingly understanding for his age which was another point towards his high EQ theory.

“Yeah-! I mean, yes, I want to come with you.” Shisui fumbled over his excitement, switching to a polite tone that made Gojo raise an eyebrow but he refrained from pointing it out.

Gojo shuffled around the room, pilfering money from various small cervices where he had unceremoniously shoved it. He tucked it into the pocket of his shorts and started making his way towards the entrance, ready to leave.

The kid scrambled after him in a panic and called out, “Oh, I have to tell Hikaku that I’m leaving. I’m running ahead so wait for me, Sora!”

Gojo huffed out a snort –after all that badgering and when he finally agreed, he had been abandoned. Though he got to give it to the kid, he was f*cking fast with those stubby legs of his.

“Sora…are we okay?” Haruhi asked softly from behind him, now that their audience was gone. His back was facing her so Gojo couldn’t see her face but from the shake in her voice, he could tell what she was thinking.

Gojo shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his fingers drumming against the material. “Yeah…we’re good, nee-san.”

“Have fun.”

Gojo stopped walking. He had already made one impulsive decision today and showed enough vulnerability to last him a lifetime so what was once more in the heaping sh*tpile that was his life.

“Suguru is my best friend.”

Gojo had taken hold of the branch of trust that Haruhi extended towards him. He couldn’t expect her to blindly trust him forever without giving something in return and building their mutual trust on the subject of Suguru –his best friend that he never spoke of –seemed like an optimal choice at the moment. Though Gojo knew he would regret it later just because. The tension was thick in the air as Haruhi processed his words. He hadn’t said much but the content of them spoke of a sea of regret and missed opportunities, the hollowness of his voice pushing that fact that Suguru was no more.

“Thank you.” Haruhi always knew what to say to him.

“Okayyy…” Gojo drawled out before jerking forward and making his way to the foyer. He didn’t want to turn this into another sad-fest. He had enough for one day as it was. “Nee-san, I’m going out.”

“Come back safely!” Her voice practically brimming with happiness and pride that Gojo couldn’t not turn around and award her with his brightest and most genuine smile.

“Of course I will, nee-san!”

Sapporo – Odari Park

“Where are we going?”

Gojo merely hummed in answer, his strides still smooth despite how Shisui bumped his shoulders against him for his lack of proper response. Silently, he took in his surroundings, absentmindedly noting the lack of people although it was a Saturday afternoon. Odari Park was a popular venture in Sapporo so it was weird to see it so desolate when it normally wasn’t. Regardless of the oddity, Gojo found himself liking the bit of peace it brought him from the turmoil that was in his mind.

‘That guy is still following us…’

Uchiha Hikaku. Gojo had met the guy when he accompanied that old man to their meeting and found him completely uninteresting. From what he could infer from their very little time spent in the same room together, Hikaku was a calm and imposing man with a straight face that never moved unless something truly surprised him –Gojo had been fortunate enough to almost shock the man into a heart attack upon their first meeting. He was also very wary of people outside of his clan and extremely protective-

“We’re going to an arcade.”

-which was the reason why Gojo brought him up initially because Hikaku was following them.

While Gojo had been fine with teleporting to Sapporo for some mindless fun, he couldn’t exactly do that if he had a tagalong. Also, he was sure that Hikuka would have taken a swing at him for even suggesting taking the Uchiha Clan heir and Madara's precious grandson anywhere without an escort or some sort of protection. Gojo hadn’t been too happy about the possibility of being shadowed; it was stifling and reminded him too much of his youth, being followed by the Gojo Clan’s little spies and his grandmother’s all-knowing eyes.

But Gojo allowed the man to drive them into Sapporo and drop them off at Odari Park. Surprisingly, when Hikaku had moved to stalk behind them like a particularly pesky mosquito, Shisui had put his foot down and shut that sh*t down with all the brattiness of a spoiled young master of an old clan. The childish unawareness had mildly amused Gojo, especially after the display he witnessed between Shisui and Haruhi. He hadn’t seen the kid act like that since their first meeting and it was oddly comforting to see the kid act his age.

(Gojo ignored the hidden weight that lifted off his shoulders at the sight of Shisui’s immaturity.)

Of course, Hikaku couldn’t seriously follow Shisui’s juvenile demands lest he wanted his head to leave his body so there he was, trailing a couple of meters behind two toddlers like a wraith.

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get arrested for stalking minors.’

“Really? I haven’t been to an arcade.” Shisui said softly, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket.

Gojo held in a scoff because, of course, this kid had never been to an arcade. Shisui’s probably been locked away behind clan walls since the day he was born. It was an uncomfortable similarity to his own childhood that Gojo refused to acknowledge.

Instead of commenting on that little titbit, Gojo asked, “How’s your grandfather?” He hoped it would dissolve some of the tension that had settled over the pair.

Except it had the opposite effect, Shisui wrung his fingers in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness, “Grandpa’s doing fine but he’s been a little…worried lately?”

‘Worried’ would be an understatement. Especially, not after he gave him those documents he snagged from Chisaki’s warehouse. Gojo was surprised that the old man let his precious grandkid out of the house after all the sh*t he discovered about that Yakuza twink. However, that could be afforded to the fact that Gojo was playing bodyguard for the kid as per their little agreement –an amendment that ensured the safety of both his grandchildren, Shisui and Izumi, whom he had not met yet.

However, what was enlightening was the old man letting Shisui see that he was stressed. Gojo expected Madara to shield his grandson from everything that wasn’t rainbows and sunshine.

“I’m sure he is.” He merely answered.

They fell into another uneasy silence –one that Gojo wasn’t willing or concerned enough to break.

And then Shisui had to ruin it by opening his mouth.

“Why don’t you like me?”

There were so many ways Gojo could answer that.

‘Because you look like him and feel like him but you’re not him. Because every time I look at you, I’m reminded of what I lost, of what I can’t have because you’re not him. Because as much as I love him, I find myself hating him a little as each day goes by because you’re not him. Because he promised to be by my side, to never leave and here you are, but still you’re not him. My soul screams for you and yet you don’t answer because you’re not him. You’re a pale imitation of Suguru and I hate you for existing. I hate you for not being what I wanted. I hate you for not being what I need. I hate you for leaving me here alone. I’m drowning, can’t you see? You’re supposed to pull me out this time. You promised.’

Gojo’s cherubic face bore a façade of a simple but genuine smile, his otherworldly crystalline eyes shining with delight as he said softly. “I don’t hate you.”

Shisui’s expression crumbled, like a house of cards after a strong gust of wind. A trembling smile crawled onto his suddenly pale face. “You don’t have to lie.”

“Who said I’m lying?” He interjected with a furrow between his eyebrows. His eyes drifted past the other boy’s form and towards the street and he mindlessly started counting the cars passing by, categorising each by colour, shape and licence plate.

“I can tell. You’re being very obvious about it.” Shisui laughed awkwardly.

Blue eyes finally met dark brown, filled with suspicion and wariness because Gojo understood being called out for his behaviour regarding how he treated Shisui –he wasn’t even hiding his dislike –but not about lying. Gojo was a terrifyingly good liar. His grandmother had him lying with a straight face before he reached the age of seven and he only refined his technique since then which meant that a kid, no more than five-years-old, shouldn’t be able to tell when he was, in fact, lying. There was absolutely nothing obvious about it.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, “How can you tell?” The question was posed nonchalantly, blasé in a way that showed that he was truly just entertaining the kid.

“I just can…” Shisui mumbled, suddenly shy but not out of embarrassment –no, more like he was trying to cover up that he said too much.

Gojo had known that the Uchiha Clan was special, ever since he first heard about them. Chisaki's involvement and interest in them further solidified that fact. The problem though is that he doesn’t know what makes them so special and why. From Madara to Hikaku and that other Uchiha women, his Six Eyes gathered that they possessed little to no cursed energy yet that day, that old man’s had been overwhelming, especially when he got angry. On the other hand, Shisui held a little more cursed energy in comparison. However, it was different from other non-sorcerers because it looked controlled rather than spilling out all willy-nilly.

It reminded him of Fushiguro Toji. God, why was everything reminding him of that horrible man? Between the ghost of Suguru and the nightmare that was Toji, Gojo was going to go from stress. Regardless, it was something he would have to speak to Madara about because he had a feeling that the speciality of the Uchiha Clan was why that man had gotten involved.

“Why do you like me?”

The swift change of subject would have given anyone else whiplash yet Shisui took in stride. In fact, he relaxed at the new topic. Maybe he had been contemplating doing the same before Gojo spoke up.

Brows furrowed in concentration, Shisui searched deeply for the right words before speaking. He had such incredible self-awareness and intelligence for a child of his age, possessing the ability to think through his words rather than blurting them out. “I guess…as soon as I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

Okay. What the f*ck?

Gojo blinked. His confusion must have been very evident to Shisui because he flailed around, his hands waving around as if he were trying to physically dissipate the sudden pressure.

“I just-…I’ve always had this empty feeling in my chest. It gets so bad sometimes that I can't breathe but then I saw you, looking like an angel, and it went away. I feel so happy whenever I see you, Sora and I don’t know why.”

One: That was super duper cheesy. Like seriously, he could practically smell the cheese. Like you can talk Mr. My-soul-knows-otherwise. Gojo dodged that with the experience of someone who had spent years swerving around conversations that asked him to ‘talk about his feelings’.

Two: Suguru might be in there.

Hoped rose in his chest, despite Gojo’s attempts to stamp it out. Even after being burned twice, he couldn’t help but yearn for it to be true. What if Suguru really was in there, buried deep inside the depths of the kid’s soul unable (unwilling?) to leave? What if Gojo was the only one who could bring him back? He couldn’t give up now. Or maybe Shisui is a reincarnation that simply doesn’t remember his past life as Suguru? That should explain the strange phenomenon Shisui was experiencing: the mind forgets but the soul remembers.

Finally, a real smile spread across Gojo’s lips, “Hey, Shisui, let’s go have some fun.”

Again, proving that he could go with the flow without being taken aback, Shisui smiled in turn and nodded his head, looking like an excitable puppy, “Yeah!”

'Let's see if I can kickstart those memories of yours Suguru.'

Location: Unknown

A throaty chuckle reverberated throughout the space. It was overflowing with amusem*nt and astonishment, trying to reconcile with what they learned and finding themselves shocked at every turn. They looked up, staring at the chasm that was the colourless sky. There weren’t any stars out and the clouds were nonexistent, leaving behind a void akin to a painter delicately covering their whole canvas in the darkest shade of black.

Was that a sign?

“How amusing…” The words were bitter despite the slight chuckle that punctuated them. “Another Six Eyes, what fun will we have, I wonder.”