Chapter Text
The first time she dreamed about Gojo Satoru was during the brief period of peace she had in an otherwise chaotic and convoluted world, before his inherent and destined rise to power as one of the greatest shamans of the new era.
Which only made sense since what she dreamed about in the first place was his, well, birth.
Now, this vision also happened to come to her the same way all the other visions usually did; during a moment of absolute inconvenience.
So maybe that’s where the unnecessary bias against the baby began.
The iron club swung around and slammed dead center into the small of her back. The familiar pain of having one’s spinal cord shattered into a bunch of tiny, precious little pieces and piercing other goodies inside the body came full force, sending her arching in an inhuman twist and then crashing with her face flat on the floor.
She heaved, aggravation trickling into the dull sense of despondency mostly prevailing over anything else. Her matted hair stuck to the grimy floor and she experimentally tried to shift her legs, sighing in annoyance when she realized she’d lost all feeling below the waist. Paralyzed. Guess it’s no good this time either. Ugh, whatever.
The small apartment she’d been holed up in was ransacked and trashed. Doesn’t really matter but it’s still a pain. What little she owned was pulled out and dumped onto the floor for show, even though that wasn’t really necessary either. They could’ve just tried asking like some people did, even if she was still going to give them a hard time about it.
If they’d begged or done something cute, maybe she would’ve gone easy on them and just told them anyway.
Dumbasses like this always do it the hard way. She sighed against the floor, ignoring the throbbing pain arching up her spine. What she really wanted to know was how someone found her this time—did the old lady downstairs rat her out? The old coot was overtly religious, but she’d done her best not to appear any manner of satanic or cursed.
“Quick question,” she said against the floor. The thugs all looked at her. “How’d you find me?”
“The old lady downstairs told us she’d been feeling something ominous coming from the new tenant,” one man explained calmly, smiling crookedly down at her. “We thought it was a cursed spirit. Buddy of ours did some research and found out we struck gold.”
I’m adding her to my list of people to curse. She thought resolutely. The woman laid there for a few more minutes, mulling over her useless situation. The glaringly bright and beautiful vision she just saw about that baby flickered behind her eyes again like a useless reminder. I know. I saw it.
Babies were a hit or miss—she liked babies a lot but she also hated them with a passion. There was something nice and quiet about looking at babies and thinking future, you’ve got your whole future ahead of you and seeing absolutely nothing for once in a blue moon and then in the same instant she could see a baby and the parts of its future she shouldn’t have seen and then she’d just feel miserable all over again. Some babies barely made it to adulthood, you know? Seeing those futures was never a good time.
She saw this baby though, all in her mind with perfect clarity. Starting in soft colors at the corner of her eyes before they sparked and she plummeted forward into the vision entirely, thrown into a void of platinum sparks and twinkling blue so blue it almost hurt to look at. Huh, that’s new.
Soft, warm, milky white skin over healthy and rounded cheeks—he looked like he was going to be born perfectly happy and well, it seemed. The room around him seemed as warm as the hands holding him, swaddled up in blankets and cloth and just newly polished of the usual baby residue post-birth. Tufts of snowy white hair that ought to have been so fine the baby would probably look angelic or bald being born, and the final, most important touch—
Iridescently blue eyes that seemed as though they could transcend an entire universe.
The Six Eyes.
The child would be born into the Gojo Family, one of the great three jujutsu clans in Japan—they would pick the name Satoru for him and he would bear the acclaimed, lustrous Six Eyes.
All of this would happen approximately seven months and seven days from now, on the night of December 7th.
She blinked back into awareness, squinting as the room and reality in front of her started to return. She rubbed the corner of her eyes and frowned, making sure the burned image of the baby was shuffled back into the cursed pit of chaos her brain represented. She couldn’t help the small hmm that left her lips under her breath, just the tiniest bit curious of this new development.
The vision was one of the blinding, nasty ones, so that meant this was definitely an important landmark in time and history. Well, for the jujutsu world, that did make sense.
“This is going to be your last chance,” one thug said above her. “Just think about the lives you’ll be saving.”
She sighed again. Was she just getting sloppy? Was she that easy to find these days? It seemed like someone one way or another was always finding her no matter where she popped up— no, maybe someone’s got a good pin on my cursed energy so they can sniff me out? This is such a drag.
Maybe it was more of a free for all whenever she appeared again. A nice little lottery and wherever her ball rolled, the jujutsu sorcerer with the winning ticket struck gold.
“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” the man in front of her said, waving his finger back and forth to guide her attention. She rolled her eyes around and around for show. Someone kicked her leg but she didn’t really feel it so it didn’t matter. “How will I die?”
This was how she knew he wouldn’t last long, even if it made her even more annoyed that she was going to have to go through this again for some small time gangsters. Why didn’t someone just ask her for the winning lottery numbers already? Interesting, trivial stuff like that. She’d have to put a little effort into that at least.
How will I die would only mean she’d tell him when he’d die. If he was lucky and it was growing old, all of this was useless. If he wasn’t as lucky and it was assasination—which it was, she just checked—he’d do something to stop it and then odds are someone else would try again and he’d die anyway in another year or two.
Dumbass.
Well, whatever, not her problem.
“Shot three times in the back and then one to each kneecap,” she said against the floor. “That won’t kill you, so you crawl around a bit until they curbstomp you on the entrance to the Gold Cow yakiniku place in Shinjuku. Now piss off.”
The leader above her quickly turned to his lackey, ordering him to write it down. His lackey was pale, sweat dripping down his brow since she’d left out the part that it was his lackey that was going to be the one to shoot the gun. Future death effectively avoided, but not destroyed. This lackey would just come up with a new plan and kill his boss, just like she figured.
It was always like that anyway. The future had a bad habit of making sure it got what it originally wanted. Selfish asshole.
She shut her eyes, a little glad she couldn’t feel her legs this time as the familiar creeping weight took hold of her body. Words were viciously whispered into her ear as a reminder she was all too familiar with and then invisible hands wrapped themselves firmly around her body, hoisting it up into the air.
“What the hell—”
“Shut up and watch, apparently this is what always happens.”
The thug had the audacity to light a cigarette, taking a long drag as blood started to drip from her nose. “Remember this next time you go looking for it .
It, huh? She let out one last sigh, making sure to remind herself when she opened her eyes again to figure out some kind of better system. But then again, maybe this was the thirtieth or hundredth time she’d thought that already.
Her body promptly snapped in half like a twig, life winking out of her eyes and dropping her lifeless corpse to the floor as blood sprayed the entire apartment. It splashed across the thugs, lathering their faces.
Wow, what a mess. Guess they deserved that one.
And for that brief, sweet second of bliss, there was nothing.
The next time that woman who’d died by spontaneous combustion and a snapped spine woke up, it was in a young business man’s body.
He laid there against a stiff mattress, taking a moment to gather his wits again. He experimentally moved his toes and then reached behind him, touching his very much in-tact spine.
So he this time, took a moment to examine his body, vaguely wiggling his fingers and standing up from the bedroom and going to the bathroom like it was second nature, which in a sense it was, even though he’d never been in this apartment before but had at the same time, and checked his complexion in the mirror.
He assessed the prior living conditions this body had, taking a few moments longer to sift through his things, understand a little bit more about his life—which, to no surprise, he essentially had none. No remaining family, no close friends or accounts or even a diary or phone log—he seemed to only go to work and back here, living like a specter amongst humans.
The same way all the bodies did.
Out of a respect he didn’t really know he still had, he made sure the apartment was intact, with what little items he had put away properly. He dragged a finger down empty shelves, examining the dust that came away with it. His heart beat soundly in his chest, even and clear.
He sighed, rubbing a crease out between his brows before he stood, heading to the closet and tugging clothes out. He turned on the small television set in the corner of the one-bedroom apartment, listening to the news drone on and figuring out how long this next cycle had taken. He fished out an empty notebook from a desk and started to write things down, chewing on a pack of dried squid.
Only three months, it seemed. Three months had passed since she died in the apartment and now here he was, located somewhere in Meidaimae. He had a job. Reasonable bank funds but nothing to boast. Food stocked to last a few days.
He laid around a bit on the floor, chewing dried squid and wondering if the next body would have better taste in snacks before finally finding the will to stand up and start this whole schtick all over again.
He tried going to work for a few days, mapping out the schedule— his schedule now—and checking out the office the original body worked at. As expected, no one seemed to notice the young man. He seemed to have kept to himself at this quiet, secluded desk job doing nothing but filing papers away.
He sat there for a bit in his cubicle, waving to a secretary he never waved at before and watching her look at him in confusion. He tried examining the work before him, playing with the papers before he got tired of the whole thing on the third day and decided to leave, taking his time punch card with him.
He went about the usual motions, writing down whatever came to mind in the blank journal he’d taken from the apartment. He detailed any visions that came to him that felt worth noting, pausing briefly with a curious frown when he was shown different visions of what seemed to be jujutsu sorcerers dying. He shrugged, writing it down and then withdrawing half of all the funds the young businessman had.
He tucked all of this together and wrapped them up before shoving them into a small bag he bought. He made his way to another station, scratching his head before he found the locker he was looking for. He punched in the combo and paid for another prolonged session, stuffing the items in and closing the locker with a resounding clack.
The young man stood there amidst the row of coin lockers, idly listening to the thrum of shoes on linoleum and people moving all around him. He let that sound fill his ears, let it carry him to another place for just a moment.
What do you want to do now?
Wiry black claws pricked the thin edges of his throat. They stroked upwards, curving around his Adam’s apple.
“What should we do now ?”
He looked at the digital watch on his wrist. It was a good time for lunch, wasn’t it? He kept looking at his watch as a slow chill started to crawl up his spine, spreading all the way to the tips of his fingers. He pretended to fiddle with the watch, looking up through thin bangs and idly searching corners of the station before he found what he was looking for.
Two men and one woman were purchasing tickets by a wall of machines. The young businessman considered their careful black and white suits and smiled to himself, scratching the back of his neck. Well, that didn’t take long. He’d long suspected by now that there must be a shaman on their side with a particular knack for hunting down the cursed energy of specific people— or maybe they’re paying someone off the jujutsu black market board?
Dealing with the Windows was easier and at the same time much more difficult. These three were most likely scouts part of a larger group meant to fan out and find him. Things only got complicated when other jujutsu users got involved.
He played with a series of options in his head until a young girl crouched down at a locker beside him, humming to herself.
Involuntarily he glanced over on instinct, blinking when a flurry of images came to mind— good luck, it’ll be a good date.
He frowned at the last image and purposefully said out loud, “Oh, mints. I forgot to get mints.”
The young girl froze, eyes widening. She checked her own bag and quickly stood, hurrying off. He watched her disappear before he calmly fixed his tie and stepped out back into the flood of people moving throughout the station.
He’d get lunch then. A nice last lunch. Maybe mints while he was at it just for the hell of it.
He stepped into the crowd of people flooding the station and slipped into the mass, disappearing.
“I’m sorry, are you going to take that one?”
The last over-stuffed strawberry cream bread stared back at him, waiting for his tongs.
Another vision slapped him sideways, riveting and sharp, shimmering translucent crystals and opaque blues. He saw a small baby, a little older than an infant now, sitting over a bed of tatami mats and staring out as a few dragonflies zipped across a blurred zen garden. He heard a wind chime in the distance.
“I love that one! It’s my favorite, so I recommend it if you are debating.”
He paused, blinking back into focus as the initial surprise of being approached and the vision wore off. He quietly turned to the beautiful older woman at his side, holding his tongs in one hand while he cradled his bread bag with the other.
The tongs almost slipped from his fingers.
The older woman who’d spoken to him was dressed in a rather immaculately beautiful kimono, traditional in the sense she must’ve come from an older family. Her hair was almost silver, pulled back neatly into a bun pinned through with a dragonfly. It shone gold. Her skin was pearly and her eyes were bright, expression glowing. She almost looked as though she didn’t belong in this little bakery.
And even though the woman was beautiful and he was already surprised someone was talking to him, none of those things were what really sent him reeling.
His eyes pointedly dropped to her belly, proud and round as evidence to the life she was carrying inside her.
“...no, I got enough,” he said slowly. She looked a bit disappointed. “You’re welcome to have it, miss. It’s your favorite, right?”
This woman was the Gojo family head’s wife.
A series of images flickered behind his eyes in response. The child she was currently pregnant with and would soon give birth too in a few more months was none other than the one he’d seen in his vision last time—one of the greatest shamans to ever live in this new era.
Gojo Satoru’s mother.
Huh. Maybe it really was a small world.
This kid is going to be a bigger deal than I thought. He politely picked up the strawberry bread and set it down on her tray. She looked up at him with wide eyes, smiling happily. Since you’re giving birth to a monster like that, you’re going to need it.
“You’re so sweet!” she said, gleefully picking up several more breads. “I have a terrible sweet tooth. It developed later in life so hopefully this child avoids it.”
“A little sugar is good for the brain,” he said. “In moderation.”
“Hmph, I wish my family would think like you do. I feel like I haven’t been able to eat anything reasonable since this one started kicking!”
It made sense. The Gojo family was about to finally get a long awaited heir and had no idea they were about to be blessed with more than just a son to carry the line of their acclaimed cursed technique. What was it again? Something a bit complicated. They were probably watching this woman like a hawk to make sure she gave birth with no problems whatsoever.
They moved in sync down the bakery line. He noticed the servants from the family house waiting outside the bakery for her the same time he spotted the three suited people from the station approaching across the street. Already? “You seem a bit tired though, so make sure you’re eating right. Officer workers like you tend to work themselves to death.”
“I know the feeling,” he said. “I should say the same to you, miss. You’re the one who’s working the hardest.”
She laughed proudly, rubbing a fond hand over her belly. “I won’t lie, it’s my first one and I already know it’s going to be trouble. Already giving me so many problems… what can a mother do?”
The suits were taking their time across the street, trying and failing not to be obvious. Or maybe he just knew what it looked like at this point.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “No plans for children anytime soon either.”
“Well, that’s no fun. Hopefully when you meet the right one,” she said. The Gojo Family lady was an interesting one, rather larger than life it seemed. She seemed like she’d be a fun but difficult person to talk to. He could see future snippets of her life welling up behind his eyes but he waved them all away.
It was a shame they wouldn’t meet again after this.
“Want to feel it?” she offered, gesturing to her stomach with a mischievous smile.
“I’ll be alright,” he said. He’d rather not get involved with the unborn monster on any account. He had a feeling already he’d be seeing plenty more visions about the child once the jujutsu world got its earth shattering wake up call. “Thank you though.”
“You’re no fun,” she said, pouting. “Doesn’t everyone want to feel a baby kick?”
Just maybe not this baby.
“Are you worried at all?” he asked, truthfully a bit curious as he put his bread on the counter to scan. She followed suit at his side. “I’d be terrified.”
She laughed loudly at that, looking pleased by his answer. “Oh, a bit. I seem fine right now but once I get back to that room I know I’ll go insane with worry.”
Her fingers pressed into the bulge of her belly, softly drifting over the expanse of loose fabric, eyes shining with warmth and glittering with fear. “I come from a very… superstitious line of old folk. There’s lots of talk and I’ve been told many things by many different people so I’m not sure what to believe at this point.”
Her eyes hardened, her free hand tightening on her tray. He watched her in silence. “If this child can just be born healthy and live a good life… that’s about all a mother can ever wish for, isn’t it?”
He considered the visions he’d seen of the ridiculously powerful monster about to be born from her stomach. His eyes turned upwards, watching the two men and one woman slowly start to approach the bakery, another man in a coat was following after them. Sorcerer.
He fished out all the extra bills in his wallet and paid for his portion as well as hers. Gojo Satoru’s mother looked up at him, about to protest but he gently waved her off, grabbing only one piece of bread from his pile and turning to face her.
He usually preferred going out on his own terms anyway. Might as well do something useful while he was at it.
“This will sound a bit insane and rather crazy,” he said to her, gently reaching out with one hand and setting it down on top of hers. “You said you’ve been told a lot of things by many people too, so take it however you like. I’m sorry to become one of them.”
The young man reached out and gently laid his palm over her stomach. Her expression didn’t even seem bothered, just carefully and attentively listening to his words. You’re a very kind person, Gojo-san, a bit strange if this is your reaction too. Maybe the kid wouldn’t be falling too far from the tree. “I come from a rather superstitious line of psychics myself.”
Life thrummed underneath his fingertips. Ferocious energy. You haven’t even been born yet.
Her eyes sparkled with interest instead of wariness or fear or disgust. He almost smiled at that.
“The pregnancy is going to go just fine,” he said to her. “He’s going to be a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Congratulations.”
A soft kick pressed up against his palm. He marveled at the sensation for a second before pulling his hand away. Gojo Satoru’s mother gazed at him, as though wondering and he merely politely bowed before taking his bread. He turned on his heel to leave.
“If you come here again, I’ll let you know,” she said behind him. “I look forward to telling you you were right.”
He waved a hand to her over his shoulder, stepping out into the street. The Gojo family servants flashed him idle looks until they stiffened, looking at him and the energy radiating off him with wide eyes. He ignored all of them and unraveled the top of his bread, listening to the plastic crinkle as he started to walk curtly down the street.
The three suits peeled off, waiting by the corner. The lone jujutsu sorcerer they must’ve called slowly started to tail him.
Blood started to dribble down his nose as he bit into the bread, considering the taste. A bit bland. Words started to whisper themselves into his ears, something inside him ripping open as more blood began to slip down the corner of his mouth. He turned into an alleyway.
Nice and healthy. He thought about the vision of that child and its other-worldly gaze. Congratulations.
He collapsed onto the dirty floor of the alleyway. Light dulled from his eyes and a pool of blood started to spread out from underneath him, soaking his dress shirt and tie as it drenched the alley floor.
In his hand he limply held the piece of bread he’d bought, only one bite taken out of it.
The young businessman died.
In an empty room full of rolling projectors, one fizzled out, crumpling as the tapes began to burn.
A single finger slid into the open rolls of a tape, beginning to wind back the series of images.
With a resounding click , the reel started up once more.
The seventh time she saw Satoru Gojo—seventh because there were five more times in between that up until this moment, nothing too noteworthy beyond several assassination attempts on the baby’s life and his first steps—she was locked up in a rather extravagant little cell for something like her.
“It.” She was pretty sure someone said once. Or maybe a few times. For something like it. Well, she was plenty arguably still human, so maybe not quite it just yet.
And it wasn’t a dream or vision she saw him in.
She’d had the misfortune—at first she’d wondered if it was actually more fortunate before she decided, no, it was pretty rotten luck—this time to wake up in the body of a young woman, probably twenty or so, whose only remaining mother had just given her daughter up to the esteemed Kamo Clan to work as a shrine maiden.
The shamans of the Kamo Clan running the shrine had stopped dead in their tracks, taken one look at the young woman with matted brown hair and dull gray eyes—taken an even bigger look at the tell-tale, blazing cursed energy that radiated off of her like a neon billboard sign— look! Look! It’s me! Look no further! —to any jujutsu sorcerer who wasn’t blind and known instantly just who she was and just how fortunate they’d just become.
“The Diviner! We’ve found her! She’s been reborn right here in our midst, this is a great celebration for the Kamo Clan! What fortunate luck!”
Well, that was arguable too in her standards, but who was she to argue with a bunch of jujutsu sorcerers. They were all crazy anyway.
They’d swept her up into their shrine and presented her to the current Kamo Clan head and their elders. She’d idly picked at her nails, examining her new body as they droned on with the usual spheal—
“Great Diviner, welcome back to this world—”
“We hope your journey has not been an arduous one. How are you? Are you well—”
“In case you may not be aware, we are the heads of the Kamo Clan, one of the three great jujutsu clans. It’s very fortunate that you’ve been reborn again here with us—”
“We will make sure you want for nothing—”
“Comfort—”
“In exchange—”
We’re very glad you showed up at our front door so we didn’t have to go hunt you down or hire someone instead. You’re not going to be doing anything foolish like trying to kill us, right? Right, wonderful. Here, how about this? We’ll house you and feed you and treat you like one of our own and with nothing but respect, but in return, if you don’t mind, since, well, you don’t really have any other use anyway—
When it comes time to use you, we can, right?
Finders keepers.
Her presence in this world was primarily summed up of just that. For the Kamo Clan, keeping her with them had more pros than cons. Other families and jujutsu sorcerers would undeniably catch wind of this eventually, especially whatever bastards that had the ability to track her down with such stupid speed. But here in their head estate, they’d have a better chance of holding onto her like a golden baton until the time came for her use and they could pass it off for another run.
It truly was a blessing for them, like striking gold.
They’d all looked at her the same. The way everyone did. The way they always did.
Elation. Fear. Hope. Wary. Envy. Greed.
She remembered standing in their grand hall, the smell of incense and candle sticks and herbs all around her and these dusty old men and women who raved and drooled over a future they wouldn’t live long enough to see themselves. She remembered thinking that this place; these grand shrine halls… they reminded her of something she didn’t really want to remember. She remembered thinking for once, like she always did from time to time— maybe I should say no. Maybe she should do something a little crazy.
Maybe we should —
But what was the point?
“ Fine ,” she’d said to them.
They’d smiled at her like a bunch of children.
Maybe that’s all they really were. Children playing adults.
Then what are you?
Probably something even worse.
For the past several months now she’d been wasting her days away, tucked into the hidden recess of the Kamo Estate
They’d given her a fancy little glorified shed of sorts, refashioned and furbished to house her—a single, wide tatami room where she slept complete with another room that worked as an office or lounge, filled with shelves of old artifacts and scrolls they must have been storing here before her arrival. There was a small, outdoor natural spring that ran through the estate for baths and a single room with a sliding door that could outlook a small garden complete with a koi pond.
It only had two windows; round, circular in shape and outfitted with sturdy wooden bars. She tried fitting her face through it but could only really get her head through with her arms hanging from the adjacent slots. She could lounge on a small alcove and sit beside it, overlooking the estate.
The shed-house was only accessible by those who knew where they were going or unlucky souls curious enough to try to get a glimpse of the strange, disturbing young girl the Kamo Clan kept hidden in their estate. A series of wooden walkways were designed over a pathway of water and lily pads, sprung up with thickets of bamboo so she couldn’t easily see anyone approaching.
Servants delivered her meals in intervals throughout the day. Whatever she requested was brought to her—usually she just asked for books or newspapers, keeping steady accounts on the world with what she saw in her visions. When she got fed up with reading she asked for a radio, changing endlessly through the limited channels and letting the scratchy audio play as she tried to fall asleep.
She thought about asking for journals but thought better of it. Those thoughts weren’t for prying eyes and who knew what’d happen to them once she left this time.
They seemed more than elated with her complacent behavior, the occasional elder even venturing close to inquire with her about this and that, anything to know more about her than the jujutsu world already did. She got a bit fed up with that too, so she tried to get a little more outrageous with her demands.
“Your most expensive sake.”
“Cigars.”
“Crabs fresh from the coast of Sapporo.”
“A bird. A blue bird.”
“A marble statue of Buddha.”
“Bread from Kawai-Kawaii Bakery in Chiba.”
“Oysters from Miyajima.”
“A shrine charm with exactly fifty threads.”
“A camel.”
“M-Miss,” a servant tried to placate her, “how do you expect a—”
“Can the great Kamo Clan not even do that?”
They did get her a camel, for the record. It was a cute thing she named Sengoku now living in its own stable on the Kamo Estate and she asked for it to be brought for her to see regularly. She’d never seen a camel in person before. They brought her the small blue bird in a wide, gilded gold cage. She drifted up to it often, letting it sit between her fingertips. Wonder what they’ll do with you when I’m gone.
They peered at each other between the gilded bars.
Living cycles out like this weren’t particularly taxing, not when they were foolish enough to let it be on her own standards—but she liked it that way and if they were nice enough she’d make it easy for them too. They were boring though. It just left her with more time to think and more time to think was never too good for her either.
Thinking gave her time to consider the warbling mass of black that clung to her heels, creeping up to her arms and wrapping itself around her, as though to embrace her. It gave her time to think about what she could do with that blackness.
“We could do something bad.”
They did have a rather fascinating collection of sorcery scrolls. She spent a good amount of time studying those. Something told her they weren’t supposed to be here but someone must have messed up and she didn’t intend on fixing their mistakes.
It was exactly on one of those repeating mundane days that she met him. Properly and in person, a young boy of nine with short, fluffy hair as white as snow and eyes bluer than anything she’d seen in the visions.
The young boy from the Gojo Family, born with the Six Eyes and inheritor to their renowned Limitless Cursed Technique—the boy who would become quite possibly the greatest shaman of this era.
Satoru Gojo.
“What are you?”
A clear voice, like running spring water.
Hearing the voices of the people she saw in her premonitions was always a bit of a strange affair. It took her a few moments, blinking curiously at the scrolls sprawled over her lap and scattered on the floor before she turned to the barred window, looking out.
And there he was.
Oh . She thought, leaning against the window and staring at him through the bars as he stared right back at her. Your eyes are a lot bluer in person.
Perhaps a byproduct of being born with the Six Eyes. They seemed almost translucent, framed with long, silver lashes. A kaleidoscope of just blues, twinkling and cutting into corners like glass that same way they seemed to stare right through her very center. He looked at her as though he knew possibly everything about her, just in that moment. In a way he does, I suppose.
He was as beautiful as his mother, but still maintained a boyish sort of charm to him.
For a second she saw every vision she’d had of him thus far. Of his birth and his first steps, the early assasination attempts, the strange moment of him simply gazing out into the sky, watching dragonflies and the few she’d seen that hadn’t even happened yet.
He wasn’t wearing the dragonfly yukata this time. Now, in the flesh, he wore a dark blue set of robes tied off with a thick black sash. His wooden sandals clicked against the wooden boards of the bridge as he took a step closer, away from the thicket of bamboo with hands at his sides as he watched her and she watched him back.
“...that’s a funny question to ask,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “What do I look like to you?”
What’s he doing here at the Kamo Estate? She pressed her visions a bit and wound up with the image of him maybe a year older, besting a handful of shamans from the Kamo Clan. Visiting?
Gojo stayed silent for a moment, examining her. She almost shuddered under the intense fix of his gaze— those aren’t eyes fit for a child. She had a feeling this young boy must have already had to discard the notion of being just a child at this point.
With his eyes she figured he should already be able to tell plenty about her. Then again, I guess I know a lot about you too.
“...I wanted to see where the energy was coming from,” he said calmly. “You’re not from the Kamo Family.”
He looked less with his jujutsu and more with his eyes, noting the barred windows and the small shed she lived in away from any prying eyes. Gojo spent a few seconds longer looking at the vast, articulate array of talismans and binding rope woven across the entrance to her little cage.
Gojo’s face was void of anything telling as he looked over her shoulder and then back into her dull gray eyes.
“I’m not,” she agreed, letting her scrolls scatter over the floor. She leaned up against the bars to get a better look at him, grinning. “I suppose I’m like… a cute little canary in a cute little cage, how about that?” Waiting for them to ask me to sing.
“...a tool,” Gojo said calmly. “In a toolshed.”
He’s not wrong. “Well, you’re not very cute,” she blew a sigh through her lips, waving a hand through the bars, a bit disappointed.
She’d been hoping he’d be a little more interesting to play with. Or cute like his mother. Mature kids were never any fun.
She stood up from the ledge, moving to step away from the window and slip back into the garden. “You should head back, boy. Visitors ought to keep their noses out of—”
“You can see the future.”
The loose outer robes she wore over the loose kimono they’d given her draped down over her shoulders, gathering up by her elbows and dragging across the floor. In the dim lighting the small patterns over it intersected, looking like small maple leaves.
She turned over her shoulder. Gojo gazed back at her through the bars, expression unreadable.
His eyes seemed to emit tiny little sparks. They glowed, opaque and shimmering blues. He gazed carefully at her shadowed face and took a faint step forward.
The Six Eyes.
“Your cursed technique,” Gojo said. “...seeing the future. But in exchange for seeing the future, you’re not allowed to tell anyone about it…”
Gojo’s almost impassive face cracked a thin inch then. His brows creased, making him look more like a troubled old man than a young, wide-eyed boy. She watched his mind work, half in the shadows.
“What exactly are you?” Gojo asked.
His voice wasn’t demanding nor arrogant. He could’ve almost gotten away with sounding like he didn’t even care if she properly explained herself or not. At the end of the day, beneath the thin veiled curiosity at her presence, she was probably nothing more than a passing interest in what would soon be a series of the mundane for him. Or are you already there? Have you realized you’ve gone ahead and gained almost everything this waking world can offer to you?
Very well, he could be the same for her.
She smiled at him, tipping her head back. Gojo gazed right back at her.
“Just a lovely tool,” she said. “In a lovely little toolshed.”
She turned her back to Satoru Gojo and left, disappearing into the darkness of her cage.
“What do they want to ask you?”
She raised a brow in vague surprise, turning back over to the bars and meeting Gojo’s iridescent blue eyes.
The air was crisp through the bars. Spring. In a few months it’d be summer. The bamboo rustled a bit behind him, letting the dappled spots of sun shine down. The pond water around them glittered.
His arms hung calmly at his sides, standing a few steps from her window and looking down at her through the bars. The sunlight outside lit up the top of his snow white hair, turning it even brighter. She squinted at the fluffy tufts, shielding her eyes a bit.
“Don’t know,” she said, tossing another ancient family scroll to the side and picking up a new one. “Maybe how to kill you?”
The boy didn’t even look fazed. So boring. His expression remained cool as he observed her. Gojo’s eyes shifted through the bars, taking in the tatami floors around her in the shadowed lighting. Scrolls and newspapers scattered across the floor and the creases of her robes hard and wrinkled.
“Do you know how?” he said.
“No,” she lazily lifted one scroll, kicking her foot out and leaning back on one hand. “I can see how you’ll die. I can’t tell them how to do it. What if it’s old age? An incurable disease? Choking on mochi? It’ll be a wasted chance if you ask me.”
She waited for him to ask her how he’d die, to ask her to look into it. She’d tell him, to be honest. Seemed interesting enough.
“You can’t kill them with your cursed technique,” Gojo said.
She frowned, looking up at him. What, he doesn’t want to know? I’m a little offended. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore, looking instead at the intricate array of talismans. The servants were able to enter with certain charms that worked with it. “...they’re terrified.”
The unimpressed glint to his eyes seemed to add cowards. She almost laughed. Almost.
“Well, it depends on how you look at it,” she said airily. “Besides, take a closer look, boy. Those markings are more for keeping things in . They wouldn’t want to lose one of their shiny, lovely tools, right?”
“Or is it because of that ?”
She smiled. Gojo’s eyes were on the normal shadows that stretched out across the floor from the brighter light through the window. They remained still, as shadows should. Thin claws pricked her skin, trailing up her arms and over her shoulders, holding tightly to its embrace. Gojo’s eyes narrowed slightly, staring at it.
“What’s the precious Gojo Family heir doing here at the Kamo Estate anyway?” she said, flopping down into the pile of robes on the floor. “Have a death wish, boy?”
“You know who I am.”
“I don’t,” she said. “I know you’re Satoru Gojo.”
Truthfully, she'd probably seen enough of this kid anyway. Your birth. All these little bits of your future... now they want me to see you in person too? Ugh.
Gojo’s head shifted slightly to the side. “...I’m here to learn. I will be visiting the estate for the next three months. A few children from the Zen’in clan are here.”
A show of goodwill and power then. I get it now. She propped her head up under her folded arm, skimming the outer edge of another scroll. The Gojo Family was showing the other main families they didn’t intend on hiding this magnificent soon-to-be-godly of a jujutsu sorcerer from the world, getting rid of all suspicions and problems that would incite more attacks on their branch. On the flip side though, the other clans would get the chance to witness just how great the gap between them and this one boy would be.
“Shouldn’t you be learning then?” she said. “Or is your favorite pastime snooping through another family’s home?”
“I am learning,” Gojo said. He stared at her and she rolled her eyes, tossing the scroll away. Not cute at all.
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get scolded, boy?” she said dryly, looking over her shoulder.
Gojo’s face remained nonchalant. “Gojo. Gojo Satoru.”
“Is Gojo Satoru not a boy?” she sighed, turning away again. Curious little thing. Guess there’s nothing interesting left at the estate except something like me. That says enough.
Half-interested as she was to see the world shift on its axis because of this young boy, it still wasn’t worth her time. He’d be a headache for her later on, she knew it. Do you know how many people will probably come after me asking about you? Useless madness.
“Why are you here?” Gojo asked. She busied herself with examining her nails. “You could leave whenever you wanted to.”
“I’m not really interested in answering all your questions,” she said. She stood up, robes dragging out behind her. She tossed a careless hand at the window, feeling Gojo’s eyes watch her the entire way. “There’s no benefit for me.”
“...is there one by staying here?”
She slunk back to the deepest part of that lovely cage, never responding.
Several scrolls tumbled through the slotted bars, landing in a heap on the floor beside her.
She looked over with one thinly raised brow, dragging her feet to the window alcove and gazing at the pile before she looked up.
Gojo stared back at her. His yukata was a light sky blue this time. It fit him better. The sun was bright again today, shining thoroughly through the window and lighting up her dim room.
She lightly nudged one with her toe, rolling it around on the floor. “I don’t care for more scrolls on jujutsu, boy. I’ve had quite enough of it.”
“Then ignore the two black ones,” Gojo said. “The green one is on flower arrangement. The dark blue is an old Shinto folklore.”
She let out a small hum of interest, flickering her eyes back up to him. Gojo’s face remained impassive, but there was a small glint of satisfaction in his eyes. So nonchalant, are you really a boy?
Amusement crackled in the faint corners of her mind. She’d bite then, why not?
She took up her seat on the window alcove, unrolling the scroll on flower arrangement. A gorgeous set of beautiful images met her gaze. She could work with this. She leaned up against the barred window, waiting.
“What is your name?” Gojo said, standing beside the bars.
She drew her eyes to one place on the scroll. “It’s been too long since I used it. I don’t go by any names anymore.” Pointless.
“You had one though,” Gojo said. “What was it?”
“Past,” she said. “Call me whatever you’d like. Next.”
“...how old are you?”
“Now or in total?”
Gojo considered her own question, gazing at her for a moment before he continued, “Now.”
She looked up to the ceiling in thought. “Twenty?”
“What family are you from?”
“One that existed before this era,” she rolled the flower scroll back up and unfurled the next one. Her eyes considered the pictured script with appraisal, using both hands to open it up this time.
“How many times have you died?”
She hummed. Gojo watched her like a hawk, “You’re rather interested in my past, boy. Are you scared of knowing the future?”
She smiled dangerously over the top of the scrolls, peeking up at him, “Or have you never talked to a lady as lovely as me?”
“The future doesn’t frighten me,” he said simply. Ignoring her second question he added, “It’s counter-productive to ask you about the future.”
“How so?” she muttered, a bit bitter that he ignored her other comment. “Knowing the future is perfectly beneficial.”
“The future is always changing,” Gojo said. “And you would die.”
She laughed, airy. Gojo’s hands were in his sleeves as he stood before her, relaxed, like some age-old scholar. She tipped her head back, dark brown hair pooling over her shoulders and sweeping down over her maple-leaf patterned robes.
“They must not be keeping you busy enough if you find time to come here,” she said. “Do they know this is where you run off to?”
“No one said I couldn’t come here,” Gojo said simply. “There’s nothing they’ve taught me I haven’t been learning myself.”
“You could be carefully observing the children who are going to grow up to be your rivals,” she said, bringing the scroll up higher to the sunlight to examine the story. A particularly tasteful one about a monk who went up into the mountains to see immortality. It seemed this wasn’t the full story though. “They might be plotting how to get rid of you.”
“Not necessary,” Gojo said. She smirked. “And the world needs more powerful people.”
She spared him a sidelong glance. Gojo’s expression was subdued, “To do what the weak ones can’t.”
... You’re going to live up to your future just fine. She finished the last line of the scroll. Gojo peered a little deeper into her living quarters. “No one else comes to talk to you?”
“Don’t make me sound so pitiful,” she said. “What need would any of them have to come talk to me aside from asking what they want to know the most?”
She tapped the edge of the scroll against her lips, “Eventually you’ll have something to ask me to, boy. You’ve been somewhat interesting to speak with. I’ll gladly tell you.”
“I won’t.”
She paused, looking over at him, unimpressed. Gojo’s gaze didn’t relent, piercing through her and threatening to lay all her secrets bare for himself. She held his stare, unmoving as he simply raised his chin, cocking his head slightly to the side.
The young boy blinked once, slow, the corner of his lips barely curved upwards.
“I won’t ever ask for one of your useless premonitions,” Gojo said.
Something unfurled in her stomach. She quietly rolled the scroll back up, leaning her head against the wooden bars and listening to the wind outside, letting it fill her.
Without missing a beat, he calmly asked, “What was your last life like?”
The scroll jutted through the bars, nearly smacking him in the head had he not raised a hand and lightly tapped it back with his palm. He frowned, brows creasing. Her gray eyes peered darkly up at him through the bars.
“Bring me the next one, boy,” she said. “And maybe I’ll tell you.”
Gojo gazed at her for a moment longer before calmly taking the scroll back, sliding it into the sleeve of his robes. She stood up from the alcove, stepping away from the light of the window and listening to the blue bird by her small garden chirp. I want to see it.
“If I bring two, I can ask more?”
She waved a careless hand over her shoulder. “Only my useless premonition can tell you that.”
She felt Gojo’s eyes on her back as she walked away from him, slipping back into the darkness.