▬▬ intermezzo: quantifying repercussions

YOU DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THE SURROUNDINGS. You had no idea how slow you were walking, even how the time was hastening on your pace. Where everything was so still, silent, tranquil, only you and Nanami were only in motion.

You were gazing downward, watching how your footsteps alternated to each other. For some reason, your feet felt heavy—in which it should not. You had just recovered your mind and body, your constitution should be in the perfect state. What only keeping your feet dragging because of the ghastly displeasure rippling in depths of you. You were looking at the ground as if it was some rotting animal and your thoughts were equally foul for thinking of murder right on that moment.

You sank in deep thoughts, the emotion of extreme repulsion had caressed your heart that it became a torture. Still not knowing where to go, everything felt alienating, static, and disconnected as if everything was ripped out of a dystopian novel. In that cage of improbability, the loss of sanity was spiralling. You were the author of that despairing setting, manipulator of chaos, but it seemed that you were also puppet of yourself—controlled by something illusionary and relative.

You walked along, and the airlessness of that motionless setting had drawn hard for you and Nanami to breathe. While in motion, time had stopped running on that area—the state of an object to be unable to change. The energy of every object was conserved, the light and air froze. If that pursued for any more seconds, you and Nanami would suffer due to asphyxiation.

Reaching the quarter of a kilometer, where the air was silent, in the proximity of market place and the dark grey-colored concrete pavement sloping down the suburb, you stopped walking.

You watched Nanami's back for a bit long more while gap between you and him was widening. You awed for a moment. He was walking ahead of you, just like a guide, like a direction, like a compass.

Nanami was idly trudging the sidewalk, thinking little at all about nothing in particular. While yanking Mori by his collar, however, he slowed down as if a wind had sprung up from nowhere—

"Nanami."

—and called his name.

Halting, he looked back.

He saw you.

It oddly struck him always, as though every time his eyes were laid on you, it gave him the sense of gentle hunger of curiosity of what you were about to do again. Those deep set of eyes of yours, he was so fixed along with that unmovable world around you two. You were a moment—at least for the man who stood a few meters away from you in the middle of the pathwalk, waiting.

You grinned at him with eyes that were either dark or shiny, either dead or alive.

"Let's take this car, ne?"

On your right was a public parking for taxis, and you were about to take one.

From that distance, you could already tell that he was frowning. He didn't say anything as he paced back to you.

With his usual serene self, he angled his head to one side, questioning you.

You used your cursed technique again to free the vehicle from the state of being motionless.

"Let's take this," you repeated, patting the roof twice.

Nanami paid you a condescending look. "You are going to steal it, you mean."

The ever expression you had on your face had drained. "What an accusation." You deadpanned. "I'll return it after, geez."

The blonde man watched how you gave him a look of disdain, although he understood why the three of you needed to get out of there quickly: each second felt like the air was thinning and arriving at Kyoto Tech should be as soon as possible they could.

Then he sighed, "Make you sure you'll return it."

"Of course," you replied snobbishly with a dismissing huff.

Without any logical thoughts, an impulsive idea burst out to life from the deepest crevice of your mind, and as if on cue, you punched the windscreen window broken.

There was a hint of gasp that Nanami let out as he heard an abrupt sound of glass breaking.

You then faced Nanami.

You . . . As always, you. Nanami gave you that look.

You smiled.

Of course, I'll return it broken.

He didn't say a thing, but the noticable frown emphasized his visage. Apparently, Nanami only looked at you with disgust and disappointment.

Having no shame of what you had done, you chuckled mischievously. As you turned back your attention to the taxi, hitting it, it left a hole on the windscreen; although the didn't shatter into sharp shards, the glass pieces had stuck together forming a spider web-like pattern. Nanami knew that a laminated glass was a type of glass used for windscreens, and understood that a normal human couldn't punch a hole through. From that, he could gauged your strength physically.

Using you elbow, you cleared the fragmented glass around it before you unlocked the door.

The other problem you had was how to turn the car on without the keys? You smirked inside your head. You had ideas how to, because you were a professional car thief yourself.

Settling on the driver's seat, you opened the hood under the steering wheel and looked the red wire with the coil. You pulled the wire and connected one end of the jumper cable to the wire and the other to the positive battery terminal. As a result, the indicators on the dashboard blinked.

The second step was to unlock the steering wheel. You searched for something sturdy and long to insert it to the locking pin. And so, you found a pen. Twisting your lips, you thought that that the pen should do the work. Upon locating the locking pin under the steering column cover, you pressed it with the pen. You felt the pin came free, so you tried to unlock the steering wheel. You were able to see the starter solenoid after. By connecting the other end of the jumper cable to the solenoid—upon completing all the previous steps—the vehicle car started.

You felt proud, and you immediately looked at Nanami again with a cat-like expression as if you wanted him to praise you.

Yet in return, shadows of utter gloom was effervescent on his face.

"What?" you whined, your expression of exhilaration was melting under the blunt nonchalance of his eyes. "You didn't have to look at me like that."

It was just a transient moment, but a clandestine smile glimmered on his face, and it was gone before you could even see it.

"Let me drive," he told you.

You raised a brow, appearing to be a little confused. "Why?"

"Two reasons," he said while he gestured you to unlock the backseats.

"First?" you mused and pushed the fob key.

"First–" he opened the backseat door– "I don't trust you."

"Ack—" you croaked as if you were stabbed straight in the heart. "Hidoi naa . . ."

After all the delusion you come up with—the "he trusts you"—it shattered. That delusion, at one point, it had matter, but in the blink of a stellar eye, it was eradicated by some cause.

Such things never last, I see.

Nanami had no idea why you were making such a dismal face, so he added after seeing you taking a full hurt from that, ". . . in driving."

"Meh," you replied impassively. But his hunch was right: you were a reckless driver. "And the second?"

Nanami pulled the knocked-out Mori and dropped him there. "You don't know the way to Kyoto Tech."

"Oh."

He was correct again. You didn't know.

"All right—" you both raised your hands in surrender— "you drive."

You hopped off of the car, hurried to the next door, and sat clumsily on the passenger's seat. Nanami followed inside the second you settled yourself. He wore his seatbelt, and he reminded you to wear yours as well.

"I don't like seatbelts." You pouted. "No way."

You heard him tsk-ed.

"Just put it already, please." Nanami could have done it for you, but he was busy shifting gears by pressing the clutch pedal, reversing, and maneuvering the wheel.

He said the word "please", and you had a moment to ponder. Maybe he was just tired of things, so you decided not to sum up to his daily misery.

Strapping the safety harness on you, you comically followed like a good cadette.

Despite the stressful situation, you never saw Nanami lost his calm or let his frustration exploded.

The reason is . . .

You didn't know.

And as for you, you were the exact different. You used words that were satiated with mockery, irony, and sarcasm, and didn't hesitate to free them unrelentingly.

What for, really?

The answer is . . .

You also didn't know.

But it seemed like every plethora of locutions that sprung forth hidden universes your mind was capable of, they existed not for understanding reality, but to reinforce your god-sized ego.

Not that you cared, really.

You only leaned your head on the windshield.

You'd slept just a while ago, and you were sleepy again.

The car was moving forward, and all was quiet inside. Once passing through the two kilometer mark you set, you dismaterialized your cursed technique.

Things went back to normal. Matter began moving around in that space again. Hope those assassins wouldn't be able to follow you. In which you find impossible. They managed to tracked you down because Mori was their accomplice.

"Is Kyoto Tech far, Nanami?" you questioned.

His eyes were straight on the road, but he was still graceful to glance at you. "One hour drive or less."

"Hmmnn . . ."

"Why?"

"There's might be a chance that we're still going be followed."

A dutiful nod was seen. He sped up, aware of the responsibility he had to make now he volunteered to drive. The Kyoto High would be their saving grace, be protected by Tengen-sama's barrier techniques to shield them from being found or attacked. Nanami had gone there multiple times now, and he still remembered the way to that quaint and secluded place rested on the foot of a mountain. There, it had a technical school and facilities that catered the needs for jujutsu, it should be safe.

Meanwhile, you unbuckled your seatbelt, rose from your seat, and crawled to the backseat of the car. Nanami asked you what were you doing, and you only ignored him.

"Pardon me," you said as you sat on the car floor.

You just needed to clear some suspicions. Mori was with the Morning Sun assholes, thus, there must be a chance that he was wearing a tracking device to sabotage you and Nanami in any minute. You then removed the every accessory he had, his shoes, even his wallet, and threw them outside. You started thoroughly searching him; GPS trackers were usually inserted in a pocket, or fastened on a waistband, collar, or sleeves cuffs. Your intuition didn't betray you when found the small device attached behind the first button of his long-sleeved shirt.

"Gotcha," you muttered, holding the tracker within your index finger and thumb. Then you pinched it, imbued your cursed energy, fully destroying it, and tossed it outside. Only if you could toss Mori outside, you could have done it so, but he was still needed for the last time.

You returned to the passenger seat by stretching your legs in a hopping manner to avoid hitting the center console of the car.

"We're being compromised, ne?" you stated a glaring fact, then sat down on your seat back, buckling up once again.

Nanami didn't say a thing. You did, too, because you knew that he wasn't really going to say a thing. Still, your had your exterior demeanor was rather affable like the constellations painted on the night sky. Yet like those faraway stars, they would orbit in the shadows, blending in the dark. You were scheming, and inside you, there was a star that was about to go supernova.

You swore to yourself that if those higher-ups were toying you, jujutsu sorcerers, you would toy them in return. Those seniles were making too much noise, laughing and smiling repulsively, and controlling those who were as meek as the lambs.

You felt an immense irritation.

No one shall try to impose authority over you . . .
Not with the Thine Highness, not on top of everything.

Nanami noticed how your cursed energy was oscillating like the waves on the ocean. Without attesting your words, he knew you were sitting on an immeasurable displeasure.

And so, he opened the windows for you.

You were taken aback, cutting your amassing thoughts of rancor.

As you usual, Nanami was so perceptive that he would present the remedy for your enraged spirit.

You only tilted your shoulders, remaining silent. It was because if you talked, it would only ruin the moment. Oddly enough, you calmed down.

Staying still like that, their ears adjusted to the quietness. The smell of the mellow and damp wind greeted you, rising from the ground as a fragrance of decomposition, for autumn was already on the corners. All around, through the windows were trees and fields of scarlets and golds. Your eyes expertly scrutinized the horizon inside that mechanical box. The sky sky was clear and kept changing, until the moon in the afternoon having an upside-down smile caught your visions. At night, you usually knew where to look for the moon, but during the day, finding it only took by chance.

You inhaled.

Breathing out, eyes closing.

You could feel the gentle rise and fall of the road beneath. You couldn't imagine what was in store in the next moments, wishing nothing entangling would happen. If such things happened, you wouldn't hesitate to engage and go all out.

You that mission to end and have your rest already.

You inhaled again.

Breathing out, eyes opening.

An hour of road trip shouldn't be that long, right?

You couldn't tell; Nanami had considered taking the longer route. It would be predictable to take the usual road to Kyoto High.

"What happened to you two . . ?"

Finally arriving at Kyoto Tech without any casualties, at the very courtyard, there, you and Nanami were greeted by a beautiful scarred woman with an attire of a traditional shrine maiden. On her both sides, she was accompanied by a blue-haired young lady and a lad whose hair was kept in an orthodox style.

"We're all right, Iori-san," Nanami responded full of assurance to the lady.

"But," she trailed, eyes moving up and down to both of you, "these blood . . ?"

The blood on Nanami was visible because of the light color of his clothes. On you, too; you were wearing a black blazer with a pair of flared jeans, a basic white silky blouse, and pair of black kitten heels.

It was your first time meeting the miko sorceress, but she had shown so much concern about you.

"Heiki desu," you politely replied with a knowing smile of fallacy.

Then her eyes flew on the unconscious man you were holding by the collar as if he was a dog.

"Is that . . ?" she paused; it felt like her eyes were lying to her, ". . . Mori-san?"

"I heard that his parents would be here," you said, "where could I find them?"

The scarred lady, Utahime, slightly back away, but there was a blossoming umbrage towards you. You didn't evade her question, and it didn't feel like you answered it as well, but she felt responsible to tell you.

"They haven't arrived yet, but they expect you to meet them in the conference room."

"I see." You gave her a crescent-like grin. "I wonder if I can go there now?"

Utahime cast a dubious look. She had questions, but nothing vivid had inflorescenced yet. "Yes, I believe they're on the way."

"Thank you."

"Miwa, Kamo," Utahime paged. The two young sorcerers—in which you thought students here—responded, saying yes. "Kindly accompany our guest here."

It was Utahime's order, their teacher, and they followed.

The three of you carried on, whilst Nanami remained there along with Utahime, hoping to talk to her more and explain some details about the progress of their mission.

It was barely noticeable, but Nanami couldn't avert his attention to the expression you made while walking away. Your eyes darkened, sunken in an infinitesimal void . . . That deep, dark, and silent coldness grazing him. It gave him the impression of him floating in space, and in a distance, he'd seen a star warping against the gravitational pull of a black hole.

"Can I now have an insight regarding this matter, Nanami-kun?"

Nanami had always known as Utahime to be stern but calm and detail-oriented senpai—one of the kindest and hardworking woman he knew. Even though her strength and cursed technique didn't stand much, but she was definitely standing out for her capacity for analysis and intelligence, and it reflected very well when teaching her students. She balanced everything out, and well-endeared by most of everyone.

"Basing from what happened," Nanami said, prepared to convey the conclusion of his judgment, "the assassination attempts were never meant for Mori-san, and their target all along is her."

The blood in Utahime's bloodstream had faltered, growing anxious upon the chain effects of that betrayal made their way to her neuro pathways.

"How cruel!" she said, flabbergastingly. "How could they enable such things?"

Utahime realized that if their mission was directly came from the higher-ups, then traitorous individuals were blended among the sorcerers. Higher-ups! She made sense to that fact even more. Now she understood why displeasure was seething from your body without a limit.

"So, Mori-san . . ?" she queried, a little worried that you might lash out on the poor guy and beat the shit out of him.

Nanami sighed. The worrisome on her face, he could already tell. You, by all means, would indeed torture the man. He wasn't against it, and yet, he couldn't do much of it, either.

"We need answers," he simply said, "and I assume that Mori will be treated as a bargaining chip to extract information."

They needed current information. Knowing what kind of motives they had or how to identify the rats would help. If someone provided confidential information to the enemy or a member committed a traitorous act of it, the entire bracket of that member would be punished. As you mentioned before, Nanami remembered, the jujutsu society valued honesty and trust, but coming from the higher-up themselves, they were compromising a sorcerer's safety. If proven that they were in a pretty nasty business, their family members could be executed or imprisoned for life.

"It couldn't be helped, huh?" Utahime drew her fingers to her chin, pondering. "But are you sure you're okay, Nanami-kun?"

"Yes," he grinned a little as he responded, "Murphy-san used her Reversed Cursed Technique on me." (Although he wasn't sure if it was truly her RCT).

"Murphy?" she repeated, wide eyed. "The newly-hired teacher that Gojo pertained to?"

"Hai. I'm surprised you already know."

An expression of gloom painted Utahime's face. "You know Gojo; he surely talks a lot and does like bothering me on my day off."

"Right," Nanami only muttered. Gojo trusted Utahime also a great deal; no wonder why he'd mention you to her.

"Shall we go now?"

Nanami only nodded.

It was just . . . A sudden felt of urgency that caressed Utahime on her spine, because a very first murder would happen in the very lands of Kyoto Tech.

She's quite a feral!

Gojo had told her, she recalled, and he gave a description that could never turn a blind eye to.

And it appeared that you really were.

Upon reaching the conference room, they witnessed something jaw-dropping.

At first, they saw Mori standing in front the Murphy Ryusei, all furious, shouting unforgivingly, as if no word of exclamations and expressions could describe his agitated despair. He was all bruise up, battered, and bloodied in the face. Looking closer, he had missing teeth and his nasal cartilage was broken. If the alleged accusations to him were true, then getting beaten up wasn't enough to pay for him crimes.

You, on the other hand, were seated on one of the chairs. You tended to come across as arrogant and standoffish, and it showed; you held a great power, and there was no point to mask and disguise your own omnipotence.

While Mori was laying out his rage, calling you in derogatory names and threateningly, however, you wore a petulant sort of scowl.

Quite a feral . . .

Utahime repeated inwardly when she witnessed how your patience snapped. You hit the man on his stomach. He crunched forward, whimpering in so much pain. Abruptly grabbing his hair, you pulled him down to your knee level. On that position, you kicked him in the mouth, making him eat your shoe as you mercilessly shoved it to his mouth.

"Oi," you uttered slowly, a black aura that began to shroud out of you. It seeped through his bones as fear started to build in him. "Do you know whose mercy you're in?" You tilted your head, smiling wickedly, thrusting your foot more to reach the throat. " . . . huh?"

There was a looming fear in Mori's face that tried to devour him.

What an ugly face he was having right now. The fear in his was immense. Tears were falling nonstop, silent whimpers were clogged by your foot impelled in his mouth, and thick saliva was dripping out of the corner of his lips . . . What a disgrace . . . He was a disgrace.

"Disgusting," you sputtered and pushed him away with the same foot on his mouth. "What a piece of shit–" you then wiped your shoe on his pants– "you are."

He let out sobbing sounds as he slumped down to the ground.

"Now, if you understood, stand up and lie on the table—head towards me."

His fear of you made him follow. He collected himself and awkwardly climbed on the table. You then took out one of your kalis daggers, flipping and rolling it first with your hand, before forking it on the table—an inch breadth from Mori's head.

He shrieked and shuddered, while the evil aura around you intensified.

What a sight, you said in the mind, so nostalgic.

It was the same sight from the ancient times, when you were about to stab someone in the heart, rip the chest open, and picked the heart out like a forbidden fruit.

You wanted to torment him more, but it never happen, because a loud, shrilling voice resounded on that four-cornered room.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING TO MY SON?!"

A woman's voice.

You gazed where the voice came from sideways. Along with Nanami and the Iori lady, there were three new characters unlocked. The first two must be the parents, and an elderly man with an elongated bald head.

Ah, what a buzzkill.

They entered inside, and you watched how they shot a dagger look at you. They howled words of anger, saying that you should be embarrassed by your irrational acts.

The mother, who came to the son's aid, motioned him to stand up—which has very displeasing to your godly sights.

"Hey," you called, very threateningly, "who told you to act without my permission?"

"You insolent!" the mother hollered frantically. "Who do you think you?! And why would we even follow you?! Don't you know us, huh?!"

As if arrogance and ignorance of those feeble mortals would save them. You understood why Gojo Satoru hated them. Those higher-ups didn't actually have a function at all—just a mere, hollow shell. They had no moral center or religion—just a money-centered business and human lives had no value. You smirked; it was as if you were looking at yourself. Therefore, you hated it. The only difference between you and those higher-ups was that in the face of human tragedy since the beginning of consciousness, they couldn't seem to glean lessons from historical parallels.

You smirked, yet the crease on your mouth had no weight.

On that cue, your expression went darker. There was passive expression on your face, glowering stares at then to saturate intimidation.

"I'd like to inform you that all of you are my hostages now." You kept your composure dignified—clothed with majesty and authority. "And if any of you fucking pigs move–" you unleashed an incomprehensible amount of cursed energy– "I'll slaughter you all, down to the last breath you have."

It blazed. It seared. It suffocated.

The fierceness of your indignation had made them shivering at the sight and senses of you as if a fiery steel had stamped them in the soul.

You smiled as soon as you perceived that they resigned to your domination.

"Now, be a dear to me and have a seat." You interlaced your fingers and rested them on top of your lap. "I just want a talk."

Wordlessly, they followed. Mori remained lying on the table, the parents and the baldy came sitting in front you, whilst Nanami and the Iori lady stayed standing behind you.

Even though you showed presiding ambience, they still assessed you with virulent eyes, but staying submissive as they measured your unrestrained cursed energy that could be parred with Gojo's overwhelming presence.

"What is this all about?" The father, you presumed, began—all snarly and bitter. "Why my son is all beaten up! I thought you're supposed to be protecting him?!"

"Wow," you chuckled, "you louts can really act, huh?" Mori was acting like a weakling and a lousy ass, and he masked his agenda in killing you through that. "What a joke. I just hope you choked for lying through your teeth so blatantly like that."

"What do you say?" He slammed his hand on the table. "What are you accusing me of? Huh? A liar?!"

"Your words. Not mine." You shrugged. "Idiot."

Those higher-ups were always thinking that they were right without questions. That kind of thinking would breed a culture of superiority complex. They were feigning innocence while keeping a blind eye to the gruesome acts they were literally doing right now.

"You're the newly-hired teacher from Tokyo," the bald old man spoke, shooting reprimanding looks at you. "Shouldn't you pay more respect?"

What a lapdog.

"Only if they paid me a respect first." You haughtily smiled. "Ever since this man laid his on me, I have become a subject for verbal harassment . . . But that's okay, I get it and understand, because it appears like in the Jujutsu society, female sorcerers are just a form of commodity. Men had inflicted too many stigmatizations throughout history just to factor one crucial element here. What it is again? Ah, right: patriarchy."

None of them did reply, because you were in the same level as Gojo's when mocking your "bosses".

"But that's not the issue I'm dreading with," you said dramatically while pulling out you kalis dagger stuck on the table. "It's the fact that our Mori-san here stabbed me."

Flashing them a subtle smile—intentfully evil—you slammed your fist against him, your dagger fully embedded just below his rib cage (where the same area he stabbed you).

All of the people inside shrieked in terrible affright, faint-hearted even; witnessing a bloodbath like that wouldn't just casually happen in their daily lives.

You couldn't describe the howling pain the man let out. He screamed out as if asking the heavens to end his misery.

You then realize how much his cries annoyed you, so you pulled the blade out, held it up, and stabbed him in his larynx to shut him up.

His blood gushed out. He was gurgling incoherent words that you didn't understand. His music of turmoil where chorusing with the cacophony of the higher-ups screaming.

"Not just he stabbed me–" you raised your free hand airily to demonstrate a theatric expression betrayal– "I also received multiple gunshots . . ! Oh, it was painful, too painful . . ."

Not being satisfied with their echoing cries, you raised the blade again. You didn't remember the areas where you were shot, but you recreated the pain you and Nanami experienced through Mori. You stabbed him multiple times—in the chest mostly—your weapon plunging up to the hilt.

You grinned at the sight of it, the blood spurting out whenever your blade exiting the body.

She's the worst . . !

On the other side, Utahime gasped to what she was watching as everything was slowly being registered to her mind.

She was about to confront you when Nanami reached out to her, grabbing her by the arm.

"But, Nanami-kun . . !" she half-shouted, controlling the anger on her voice.

The 7:3 sorcerer only shook his head, telling her not to rain on their parade.

Not that he was defending you, but he knew that you were aware of what you were doing. Staying on the lane must be the logical choice for now.

Utahime always knew that Nanami was a rational thinker. If he thinks it would be all right, then be it so.

She stood there, all grouchy and cynical. Seeing blood didn't make her flinch or gross her out. What was even more dreadful was putting the life of her fellow sorcerers in danger. Utahime understood your sentiment: being a female sorcerer in a male-dominated society—where they were easily cast aside. She wasn't weak, but sometimes, it was hard for her to motivate herself either that she was strong. It made her feel that way, especially coming from the people she'd worked under and respected for years.

And maybe . . . Just maybe, you, opposing them might change the status quo.

Thus sooner, when Mori's body became unresponsive, the mother had fainted—not able to stomach the vision of her son being brutally murdered in front of him.

"You!!" the father—the higher-up—cried in remonstrance. "What do you want??? Why killing my son like that??? Have you no shame? No mercy??!"

"Oh please, shut up." You rolled your eyes. "We both know this started because of you. I would appreciate it if you did not treat me like a sacrificial bitch and pretend like nothing went wrong." Then you leaned backward to your chair and flapped your hand to remove some excess blood.

"What do you really mean?" The baldy old man had stayed calm despite the event.

You weren't really sure if he had no idea about it, but you were going to say it anyway.

"This Mori and his family is a traitor." You crossed your legs casually.

You could have listed all of their crimes, but being a traitor in the Jujutsu society was plentiful enough. Death, if proven guilty.

"Do you have evidence to claim as such?"

"Well, that's why we are here," you said, "to discuss it, and have them confess their sins."

"For you to say that, how hypocritical of you."

You chuckled against your throat. "Just to be clear, I'm the victim here." Then you pointed Mori. "Regarding him, he's a leverage. He's not dead, not alive either, thus his life depends on how you answer my questions."

Now that you cornered them, you saw the higher-up's face blanched, anxiety spreading on his face. On that expression alone, you knew that they were keeping something from you.

"So, let's get this straight," you prompted, planting your head on the back of fingers. "Who sent those assassins to me?"

"I don't know . . !"

"Why are they trying to kill me?"

"I don't know . . !"

"What's their purpose?"

"I don't know . . !"

"And why me? Are they trying to prove something? Would they gain something if I'm dead?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know . . !" He was all hysterical, catching his head just to express his breakdown.

Your visage became dim, balancing your tolerance to his bullshits on a thread.

"Oi," you uttered in a heavy, threatening voice, "I'm aware that you're son is basically useless right now, but I can torment you or your wife next."

"I don't know!" he wailed. "It's just . . ! Everything's happening too fast! A talking cursed spirit just barged in our house and turned my youngest son into a curse! My youngest tried to kill us, so we had no choice but to kill him! And this time, I'm gonna lose my eldest next! Oh, God! Have mercy on me! What's happening to my entire household?"

You, being you, found an entertainment to his narrative, so you laughed aloud and wholeheartedly.

The other spectators were staring at you with an absolute repulsion, because no one in their right mind would laugh at someone's tragedy. You were literally inflicting psychological pain on the higher-up. He was grieving for fuck's sake, what was so funny about that?

"Then?" you asked, chortling. "Did it tell you why it trespassed your house?"

By the technique of the curse, you already knew it was.

He sobbed despairingly, "It instructed us to kill you . . ."

"That's not the entirety of it, right? What else?"

It seemed like he had no grievance to spare and he calmed down. Letting out silent weeping, he shoved his face to his palms.

"It said that things will get worse if we didn't obey . . . They'll be watching always, their ears will be everywhere."

It was safe to assume they were listening right now, but not that they could commence an attack-not on your presence.

"Their goal?" you questioned.

"That patchwork . . ." he croaked, "must be very interested with you." The way he talked, you somehow noticed the articulateness befitting for an olden higher-up and a good discernment was heard. "Its goal is to learn more about you: your origin, cursed technique, and all . . ."

You suddenly recoiled, all of your amusement vanished like a candle being snuffed out in front of you face. All of the events happened in the train station were came rushing in your head. Your origin might have stayed hidden, but you unleashed your cursed technique our of spite.

Inside that two-kilometer radius you set, where you released you technique, things were unmoving, but outside of it, the world was working on its normalcy.

Now they knew. Everyone knew.

"That's a trouble, huh?" you simply mused, but it pissed you off deep inside.

"I have already answered questions! Heal my son now!" The higher-up demanded.

You scoffed, then playfully swung your seat around. "Y'know," you enunciated as you craned your head backwards and rested on the chair support, "I'm not really a heartless person."

Nanami mockingly scoffed upon hearing your statement.

You saw him secretly shook his head. You chuckled and only grinned at him before reverting your gaze at the higher-up.

"You should have doubted the cursed spirit," you told him. "What do they need to a humble sorceress like me? Why me? What's with me? You said it yourself that it seemed interested with me . . . You could have asked me to help, and I would not-so gladly do it so, but you're an old fool—you who knows the price of everything, but the value of nothing. Pity, pity."

"But I have no choice! My hands were tied on my back!"

"Futile," you snickered. "Because of your futility, you've made everyone in the Jujutsu society your enemy." His eyes widened in disbelief. "After attempting to murder three jujutsu sorcerers, causing mass destruction on the roads of Tokyo, even affecting the lives of the countless civilians just because of your desperation to kill me, do you seriously think that the public and jujutsu would treat you the same? Now it is okay for you to stay complacent because a lot of powerful people are backing you up? Who would want to create ties to a person who could kill you off whenever they wanted? The fact that you singlehandedly created such a vile and negative things against the innocents and sorcerers is the most antagonistic shit ever. Regardless of your reason and stand, no one would stand behind you now."

He wasn't responding to you, maybe because those realizations began sinking into him. And how come he was a higher-up, but he couldn't speak politics?

"You see–" you sat down properly as you uncrossed your legs– "I told your sone that I can't decide whether if I keep you dead or alive."

"W-What . . ?" he said in a trembling lips.

"Yeah," you said, lingered with cordial, humming chuckles, "but it appears like I'm left to keep you alive."

Standing up with a grunt, you gestured a hand seal to activate your cursed technique. For that moment, since it was already exposed, you used you Construct to rewind time to bring Mori back to life.

You saw how his expression gleamed, but bold of him to think that he and his remaining family had been spared.

"Rejoice not;" you said dismissively, "if their eyes are everywhere and you let the enemy crawl inside, then your safety is not assured. Our mission is ended upon delivering Mori here unharmed, and I won't work for scums like you again."

"You can't do that." The old baldy made his presence known. "If your service was summoned, you should follow with any compromises."

Tilting your head, you made simpering, taunting sounds. "What would a low-life like you do if I didn't? Cry to those old fools who are basically useless that the system of Jujutsu would still operate even if I killed them myself? Wow, what an ultimatum. What's next?"

Your arrogance had no bounds, and the repugnance on your tone was like a knife on his ears and made his pride bleed.

"Your words are seemed detrimental." He eyed you accusingly. "Such cruelty beyond comprehension must have settled in your heart."

You snorted, "I'm sorry, but who are you again?"

For his part, he didn't flinch in shame, but he seethed with irritation. "Gakuganji Yoshinobu," he said, his mouth barely moved, "the principal of Kyoto Tech."

"Ah, I see." You nodded redundantly. "Are you a principal because the higher-ups assigned you or because you can lead your students?" His forehead creased to your question. "Because in this machinery-like system, those who seat in the upper chairs, a secure position—such as principal—is given to the people they want to shut up. They'd take your humanity away from you, only wanting you to work like a dog. If that's why you're a principal, then, there is no honor in that." Then you pivoted, gracefully swayed around to face Nanami and the Iori lady. "You should really ponder which side you'd partake in, ne? Well then, bye."

Just as when you were about to take your first step away, the higher-up came running to you, scrambling down, knees dropped on the floor. Your eyes looked empty, as expressionless as you stared at the man begging and crying.

"Please, please! Have mercy!" As he wept his silvery tears, it was an attestation of how things were breaking him apart. "Help us! Save us!"

You didn't want to stare but your eyes stayed affixed to the man—so still, so distant. Like he was a transparent thing, fading in the discernible, darkening gloom.You could hardly try to sympathize; there were ice in your bones, letting the coldness bit you to numbness.

And when he crept toward you, he reached for your feet, shamelessly groveling like a worthless creature he was to beg for forgiveness and guidance.

That sight reminded you of someone. Your mother you murdered once visited you in the fleeting realm of dreams, pleading to be saved, to ease their wretched and broken spirit. The only difference was that you hadn't reached godhood a thousand and one hundred thirty years ago. And now, you had the power to step on those pathetic fools underneath the soles of your apathetic heels.

You let the man took a hold of you, while each second, your disgust was growing more vivid.

You must be a horrible character to the spectators, but to Nanami, you weren't. The fact that you didn't want to be treated badly or be administered as a divinity—you couldn't just stand it.

Their hymns of prayers and beseechment were a canvas of your grace that you were ought to behold. For if everything existed to lift you high, all nature and science followed your voice, you must adhere their lamentations.

Magnificence and reverence—very befitting for your otherworldly portrait to gain your rapport.

And Nanami knew that you loathed it, you hated it, but it must be your fate—something you couldn't go against with.

Staving off of his unsolicited implores, you angled your chin up to flatter your esteem. "Only if you didn't do those vehemently evil things to me, I might have heeded your pleas." As you spoke, it was as if the voices of heavens were heard– "Now, suffer the consequences you made for yourself–" and no one could defy.

Kicking him away, you took a full turn, trudging the exit when Nanami and the Iori lady were.

You grinned at them.

"Let's go?" you prompted.

Wordlessly, they followed after you.

In the corridors where the afternoon sunlight striking through the windows, you linked your hands behind, each tap of your heels had a rhythmic tempo along with your gleeful humming.

Utahime had a lot to comment, but your persona hadn't sunk in to her yet. You seemed to be unapproachable to her, and it was quite a surprise when you took a pause to your pace and looked back at her.

"Iori-san, right?" you said, voice coated with honey.

"Utahime is fine."

"Hajimemashite," you greeted. "I'm Murphy Ryusei."

"Oh, hajimemashite." Utahime was a bit skeptical replying.

"I know this is a huge favor to ask . . ."

"What it is?"

"Can I ask for a change?" There was a bit embarrassment for your request, but it was too subtle to notice. "I mean . . ."

"Right, right, of course." Preparing extra clothes and bathing necessities were already on her mind before coming in the conference room, but things were very distracting sooner after they exited. "You, too, right, Nanami-kun?"

"Hm?" As though he was in a trance, he blinked, snapping back, yet nevertheless, he heard her. "Ah, yes, onegaishimasu."

You smiled at her. "Kochira koso, onegaishimasu."

With that, you continued your pace—no place in particular in your mind.

While Nanami and Utahime watched her walking away, she told him, "She's uncannily respectful."

"She is," he concurred, "only if she likes the person."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"I see." So it's safe to assume that she likes me? "Anyway, I'll go prepare your needs, then meet you two in the teacher's lounge."

Before Utahime could go to the different direction, Nanami paid her a bow as his another form of gratitude. Then he cast his gaze at you. This time, you were standing in front of the jalousie windows, eyes looking at a distance as wonderment was rendered on your lips.

Despite the heavy happenings, the air around you was seemed charged with a special calm.

The autumn wind blew, carrying the maple and ginkgo leaves into a symphonic dance in the air. Your head was tilted slightly upward, black locks gently fluttering against the sunlit scenario. Those set dark eyes were so fixed to the world that no move escaped them, although it was a kind of gentle like an infinite curiosity reflecting on them.

He stared at you, exchanged gazes as if the two of you experienced a moment of absolute understanding.

Your face lighted into a smile after.

"Nanami."

The woman, you, looked as if you pulled him back in reality.

"It's a beautiful day."

He took your words calmly, and merely inclined his head a little to the side, as if he was thinking of something else.

"Say . . ."

He did not make any comment, only waiting for the real intent of your words.

". . . will you go out with me?"

OH GOODNESS
im finna free from
this chapter !!!
im boutta vomit words
lmaoooo

what an ass chapter ending lol

unedited. i dont proofread

and i was glaring at
the word count huhu
7.5k words, everyone
i didn't wanna cut it
in two bc i wanna end
this "arc" here lmao

BTW !!
nanami has d-worded
officially in the anime
lmaoooo
he's always that peaceful
when dying, i just know it

here's an art for nanamin

byeeee

- handthe;rend 🌊🍉