THE DIVINE MOVE
⸻   神の動き

✴
( 1997 )

     If any gods are left in this world, they must surely have taken offence to her birth. There is no other reason she can think of to have irked them so. Defiance runs in her veins after all and she can only laugh when she subverts the will of heaven and makes a mockery of fate with her pale hands. Of course, she plays an imitation game to the dissonant song of anarchy. She can't blame them for despising her so when she can so easily attain the holiness of godhood with a flick of her delicate wrist.

Yagyu Toa has seen more than she wishes she ever has a right to; that she wishes she could erase from her mind like chalk on board. To draw a veil of stygian shadows over her eyes so she doesn't need to collect any more gruesome memories that haunt her still. But being a member of the Yagyu, an antiquated branch family of the esteemed Gojo clan, offers her little choice in the matter. Sorcery is all she has ever known and is a life she will never escape from. Not when her sacrificial flesh has already been strung up for offering on their altars of vanity.

It's no wonder then that she notices him in one of her usual midnight haunts, surrounded by the acrid scent of smoke. Her hazy dark eyes meet his, the colour of wilted blooms in the throes of autumn's touch. The taste of honeyed oak whiskey swirls on her tongue, skin illuminated by the red lanterns of that dingy gambling den. Mahjong tiles lie sprawled across the green felt of the square playing table, hungry eyes following each suit thrown onto its surface.

His smirk is marred by an old scar that refuses to fade, that he wears like a badge of honour to the travesties of this unfair world. So what, she thinks, they all carry their own scars and demons. It's not his devilish looks that catch her off-guard ( though she has to admit he is certainly not lacking in that department ), but the familiarity of it. She tries to rack her mind for a scrap of information, a fleeting memory that can make sense of her predicament, but there is none.

So her illustrious mind can only shuffle through all the possible reasons for this gap in her knowledge. The obvious answer of all flits through her thoughts as she peers at him once more, finding their eyes locking in mutual interest. Her curling lips seem to taunt him though he makes no sign of acknowledgement.

Toa leans over to reveal the row of honour tiles in her hand. "Tsuuiisou," she declares. Groans of defeat echo around her and wads of soiled yen find themselves clutched between her clawed fingertips. "Thanks for supper, boys," she says as she picks up her purse.

"You're not letting us win it back?" one of the regulars asks. She gives a wink over her shoulder and walks out the backdoor of the small traditional medicine shop. The cold night air of Kabuki-chō caresses her skin as she steps into the narrow alleyway and lights a slim menthol cigarette. She takes a drag and exhales, hearing the wooden door behind her open and close once more.

His voice spills into the night like warm Amaretto coffee and it sends a shiver up her spine. Dark and silky with an undertone of danger that leaves her sucking in a tantalising breath. "Should I tell them you're a cheat?" he asks.

Toa languidly turns to him with an amused smirk, dark eyes twinkling under the dim streetlights. "What? That's hilarious," she utters in disbelief as she takes another drag of her cigarette. She's sure there's not an ounce of cursed energy radiating off of him and yet he's able to see right through her technique. "You must be some kind of prodigy."

He chuckles lowly. "My family would beg to differ," he responds with barely concealed irony in his tone.

"Pity," she muses. "The elders are fools, after all, the Zenin more so than most." Her chin dips as she gazes at him with astute eyes of obsidian through thick and curled lashes. She flashes a smile that is all teeth and grit. "Hungry? I'll buy you supper for taking your money."

He takes a brief moment to consider her invitation before stepping forward. His titan frame towers above her and even in her three-inch heels, the top of her head barely grazes his chin. It forces her to crane her neck upwards and she feels displeasure from the power shift. But being this close allows her to scrutinise him in detail—the curve of his nose and cutting jawline, the small wrinkles etched shallowly between his brows and edges of his lips. Dark hair sweeps over his temple over those verdant eyes. A false sense of recognition flickers across her face. She knows that he's a man that is far from ordinary. Cursed, perhaps, as so many of their kind turn out to be.

"I'd rather just have my money back," he says with disinterest.

"Don't be a sore loser," she croons. "It's not my fault that I was dealt a better hand in life."

He scoffs at her jab and rolls his eyes. "A cheat and a smartass, huh?"

Toa smiles smugly as she leans into the scant gap between them. Her cursed energy surges and crackles between her fingertips. A myriad of scintillating possibilities dances across her vision like a kaleidoscope of premonitions. Each glimpse of the future points towards the same kismetic conclusion. A hum escapes her lips as she exhales another plume of mist that curls away into the sultry summer air. The man frowns with a quizzically unimpressed expression. "What? See something interesting on my face?"

She chuckles enigmatically. "Let's have supper," she insists. "I know a great hotpot place nearby."

He looks ready to refuse her again, rejection hangs heavy on  the tip of his tongue. Every muscle in his body is primed to walk away, to sever the connection of their inauspicious meeting. But his eyes are dark and dilated as they trail across her face and body. She licks the corner of her lips enticingly, with all the intent to bewitch the wits from his hands. Toa likes to think she is a mistress of seduction, it's always been the easiest method for her to get what she wants. She loves to see men falter and lose their mettle for her, just as he does now like all the ones before.

Like an old VHS tape unravelling from its spool, she watches him sigh as he goes against his better judgment. "Fine," he says. One word to seal both their fates.

Perhaps the gods seek to destroy them both, perhaps the universe is playing a trick on them. Fate. That loathsome word that means both destiny and doom. The probability of two worlds colliding is small, yet everyone is drawn by the lure of it. They look for answers in the stars, they fall in love despite the odds. It would have been in both their best interests to turn around now, shrug away the encounter and let the memory fade into the dazzling neon lights.

Toa doesn't need her cursed technique to see what inevitably happens next. Their supper culminates with her back arching against the door of her cramped apartment and his lips caught between her teeth. The scent of alcohol and the taste of Szechuan peppers lingers on their numb tongues. Lost within the pleasure of his touch, legs wrapped around his waist and nails raking into his skin. It feels like forbidden fruit, as she gazes at his familiar yet unknown face, as if she's committing a grave sin against the entire cosmos.

Dawn starts to peek through the sheer curtains as one last moan escapes her throat. His heated breaths fan across her ear as he takes a moment to recompose himself. Toa sighs as he finally rolls away, the both of them sitting up against the wall. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes from underneath the futon and lights it up. Outside the window, there is a rare moment of stillness as Shinjuku lazily starts to stir. Only nocturnal animals such as themselves turn to respite in the light of day.

"I have to go now," he abruptly announces before grabbing his clothes. He also picks up her purse that's thrown in the corner of the room and helps himself to a few thousand yen, folding the notes in half and stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Toa smiles in amusement as he shuffles towards the door. "See you soon," she calls.

He pauses by the threshold and takes a curious glance at her. Then he leaves without another word. She can't help laughing to herself as she crushes the butt of her cigarette into an ashtray. A hand runs across her tousled hair as she reaches over for her phone, clumsily dialling the first number that comes to her mind. It rings for a while until a voice thick with sleep finally answers with a disgruntled greeting.

"Toru," she says fondly, "I just slept with your brother."

There's a bewildered pause. "Toa, what the fu—" She hangs up.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. toa is hilarious, i love her character. in my mind, she has a reputation in the jujutsu world.

thank you for reading and please leave a comment to let me know what you think! it really helps motivate me to keep writing, thank you <33