.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
The forest's cursed mist thickened as night deepened, pressing down on the world with a suffocating hush, broken only by labored breaths, the rustle of underbrush, and the subtle pulse of cursed energy.
Seijiro's mind raced.
Time stretched, each second drawn thin and dissected under the scrutiny of his Six Eyes; the battlefield unfolded in layers of vectors and cursed energy, and then, at the edge of his vision, he caught it.
Masanari.
The Hattori leader stood further back, already nocking an arrow with ease, in a smooth, condifent, almost lazy motion. And drenched in cursed energy. A low vibration hummed through the air, a resonant echo of his earlier words.
I never miss.
Seijiro's jaw locked, a bitter taste rising in his mouth.
His Six Eyes peeled the lie apart before the arrow even flew; the cursed energy braided through the shaft, its trajectory, wasn't aimed at him. It was aimed at Kaoru Zenin.
His focus snapped forward, where she rode just ahead of him, posture rigid, eyes forward focused on their retreating men and utterly unaware. No flinch, no instinctive recoil; the arrow's intent cut through the mist like a blade, and she still hadn't felt it, still hadn't seen it coming.
Underneath the immaculate composure, Kaoru Zenin was still—absurdly—naïve. Perfectly constructed, painstakingly trained, but too rigid and riddled with blind spots.
He didn't know whether to laugh or scream; probably scream. He wasn't about to let the Zenin heir die right after saving his life with the poisoned soup; that would be a waste of energy.
The arrow's projected path pulsed in his vision, its trajectory correcting itself in real time. Masanari's cursed technique ensured it would adjust, bend, hunt its target no matter how she moved; dodging too early wouldn't work, the arrow would simply follow; blocking too far wouldn't work.
It had to be intercepted at the moment of impact. Anything else would fail.
Seijiro dug his heels in and spurred his horse forward, overtaking her in a single decisive burst. His grip tightened on the reins as the arrow closed in, its cursed energy growing with each second.
Wait.
The arrow screamed closer.
Not yet.
His pulse matched the count in his head.
Now.
He leaned hard into Kaoru, slamming his shoulder into hers with brutal precision, and the impact knocked her clean from her saddle. The last thing he registered was the sickening sound of flesh giving way as the arrow struck.
Both horses bolted, shrieking into the fog in panic as the world tore loose beneath them.
The world spun. Kaoru hit the ground hard, the arrow's shaft snapping partway on impact as momentum dragged them both down the slope. They tumbled down in a flurry of chaos, branches clawed at skin and fabric alike, and the forest swallowed them whole, mist closing in until they finally crashed into something impossibly warm.
Soft.
Seijiro blinked, pushing himself upright, disoriented. His fingers brushed... fur? He froze, looked around, realizing they had landed in the midst of...
"…Rabbits?"
All around them, soft bodies pressed close, a living, writhing cushion of rabbits shikigami. Kaoru had managed to summon her Rabbit Escape mid-fall, a chaotic yet effective barrier absorbing the worst of the impact in a chaos of twitching ears and indignant squeaks. The fluffy creatures hopped and nuzzled against him, their soft forms absurdly out of place in the dire circumstances.
Absurd. Effective.
"Nice timing, Pretty Boy," Seijiro muttered, hauling himself upright and disentangling his limbs from fur and ears. His kosode hung crookedly, one shoulder bare; he brushed at it irritably, then promptly stepped on a rabbit.
It squeaked, indignant.
"Charming," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes.
"Perfect timing yourself, Gojo-sama—ugh," Kaoru groaned nearby.
She pushed herself upright into a seated position with visible effort, face tight with mounting pain; her hand went instinctively to her shoulder and found the arrow, fingers brushing the feathered shaft. The broken shaft jutted from her flesh, slick with blood.
She hissed sharply.
"So much for perfect timing," Seijiro muttered irritated. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the arrow as he took in the wound. "Looks like that bastard really doesn't miss." His gaze flicked to the blood already dripping steadily down her arm. "Lucky for you, I am faster."
Kaoru exhaled through clenched teeth, her other hand gingerly probing the wound. "Yeah," she admitted. "That reputation's well-earned."
Her trembling fingers came away slick and red; she cursed under her breath and forced herself to her feet, retrieved her katana, and ignored the fresh wave of pain that followed. Blood pattered steadily onto the damp forest floor as she moved.
"Damn it," she hissed. "We've lost our group. This is the last thing we needed."
Seijiro's head throbbed mercilessly, the cursed fog grinding against his Six Eyes like sandpaper; every cursed energy particle screamed for attention, demanding to be analyzed. He pressed his fingers briefly to his temple, trying to dull the ache.
"You think your samurai will double back to find you?" he asked dryly. "He looks like the type to die of worry for his golden master."
"No," Kaoru said without hesitation. "Harunobu is loyal to a fault, but he wouldn't disobey my orders. If I told him to get the group out out safely, he will. Besides," she started climbing the slope, unsteady but stubborn. "One of my Divine Dog's still with him. He'll know I'm alive."
Seijiro crossed his arms over his chest and followed, watching her with a mix of exasperation and reluctant respect. Blood dripped in steady beats from her wound, her face pale against the dark backdrop of the forest, but her back stayed straight, her pace never truly slowed.
Stubborn to the point of self-destruction. He's bleeding out, pale as a ghost, but still clings to his stupid pride.
"We should stop," he said, adjusting his disheveled kosode as he fell into step behind her. The cursed fog was a nightmare, and the strain on his Six Eyes wasn't helping his mood. "Wait for daylight. This cursed fog's killing my head, and you're not making it far like that."
Kaoru did not stop. "Stopping isn't an option."
Seijiro scowled at her back and pushed. "I can't see a damn thing in this soup. The dark might hide us, but it'll also kill us if you collapse from blood loss—"
"—The dark works in our favor—" Her words caught as pain seized her. She stumbled, atching herself against a tree, teeth biting into her lip to choke down the sound.
eijiro frowned, watching her bite back a cry. Damn fool. He stepped closer, leaning down so his face hovered just inches from hers, to better deliver his sardonic drawl. "Right, Pretty Boy. Bleeding out in the dark. Brilliant plan. Let's pretend you can keep going all night, bleeding like a stuck pig, while I nurse the migraine from hell."
She glared at him, fire dulled by exhaustion; the pain burned white-hot, as if molten iron had been poured into her veins but she clenched her jaw, refusing to show any more weakness to the Gojo heir.
"And what happens when you collapse, hmm?" Seijiro pressed. "You think I'll carry your sorry ass? Because let me tell you the truth, Pretty Boy, I won't."
She shot a look at him. "I said we're not stopping until we find the others—"
"And I said I'm not carrying you," he snapped harsher than he intended, then exhaled, softening because what the hell was wrong with the Zenin heir? "There's no shame in taking a damn break. You're no use to anyone if you're dead."
She stared him down, breathing uneven, hand clamped tightly over her injured shoulder. The blood seeped through her fingers, saturating the fabric of her kosode. The arrow's shaft jutted awkwardly, making any sudden movement excruciating.
If he hadn't shoved me… she thought grimly. This arrow would've split my skull.
Seijiro didn't move; he stood in front of her, arms crossed, expression unreadable save for the slight downward curve of his lips. She could see it, he wasn't going to budge. Her fingers dug into her shoulder as if sheer force of will could stop the bleeding or the growing knot of anxiety in her chest as her eyes darted toward the dark expanse of forest beyond, searching for reassurance she knew wouldn't come.
The thought of stopping, lingering here while separated from Harunobu and her men, gnawed at her. It was a dangerous gamble to stand still in enemy-infested terrain. But Seijiro's logic was sound, damn him.
Her resolve wavered just enough and Seijiro saw it. He opened his mouth, perhaps to cut off her protest, when his entire body tensed.
A whisper brushed his senses, barely perceptible at first, but rapidly growing in intensity. His Six Eyes honed in on the faint ripple in the air, dissecting its source. Cursed energy; controlled; masked.
Shinobi.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.
Without hesitation, he moved instantly; his hand shot out and closed around Kaoru's arm.
"Oi—what—" Kaoru hissed, her free hand instinctively beginning a sigil, to cast a shikigami.
The action only seemed to irritate Seijiro further. He yanked her into cover behind a tree, spinning her back against his chest. His palm clamped over her mouth to silence her, his other arms circled around her over her arms, to keep her in placea and to block her as her free hand began to form summoning sign.
Her mind reeled, panic overriding reason as her heart pounded wildly as her body twisted against his hold, sending fresh bolts of pain searing through her shoulder. This is it, she thought, dread coiling in her gut. He's finally turning on me, the bastard's trying to kill me. Her hands clawed at his arm, her instincts screaming for her to fight despite the futility of it.
"Stop, you hot head—" he hissed, lips just above her ear. He jerked his head subtly toward the forest path, the movement slight enough to avoid detection. "Stay still and look."
Her struggling ceased as his words registered. She strained her ears, listened. Light footsteps, rustling leaves. Movement too precise to be an animal.
Shinobi?
Kaoru's pulse slowed from frantic to focused. Her mind shifted gears as they dropped low together behind the tree, her body pressed tight against his, his arm locked firm around her waist.
Too close. Too aware.
Through the fog, Seijiro tracked them clearly: six figures, moving in silent tandem, hunting, cursed energy masked but not completely hidden to his Six Eyes. Too silent for Kaoru to track them fully. He adjusted his grip on her, careful to avoid jostling the arrow embedded in her shoulder.
His body braced against hers, anchoring her back against his chest. She winced as the motion jostled her wounded shoulder, but his grip didn't loosen and she tried not to squirm, hyper-aware of Seijiro's arm firm around her waist and how dangerously close it was to the bindings beneath her kosode.
If the bindings shift—
She forced herself very still, willing herself not to breathe too deeply as Seijiro's mind raced through scenarios. He could kill them—easily—but the commotion would alert others and Masanari was potentially lurking nearby.
And Kaoru was still bleeding. His eyes flicked down to her shoulder, where blood seeped steadily, dripping onto his arm. That arrow wasn't going anywhere unless they pulled it free, and even then, the damage might slow her further; if he wanted the Zenin heir to be somehow useful, they had to tend that wound first.
Too risky. Wait them out.
The shinobi moved past their position, their heads turning in unison as they scanned the underbrush. Seijiro held his breath, feeling Kaoru do the same. They waited, motionless, as the figures melted deeper into the mist.
Only when the forest stilled again did Seijiro slowly eased his hand away from Kaoru's mouth. She exhaled shakily, her body slumping slightly against him. Realizing her position, she tensed immediately pushing herself upright with a glare in his direction.
Wow, he blinked, noticing how she had distanced herself as if he was trash. Rude.
He let her go, standing fluidly and brushing dirt from his kosode. "So, Pretty Boy? Still want to keep walking?" he muttered glaring down at her.
"…Fine," Kaoru said tightly.
Her pride stung more than the injury, but she wasn't about to admit it; all she wanted was for the damn night to end.
She gestured toward a shadowed area not far from where they had landed. "There," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. "I saw it when we fell. The roots of an old giant tree have made a sort of shelter. We can wait there."
Seijiro raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he straightened. "Wow. Back in charge already? Don't take orders well, I see."
Kaoru shot him a glare over her injured shoulder as she began walking toward the hollow. "No," she said flatly. "Not when a Gojo's the one giving them."
His gaze lingered on her briefly before he shook his head in disbelief, muttering to himself. "Can't believe it. What a pain in the ass."
But he followed her anyway.
Seijiro's Six Eyes struggled against the cursed energy saturating the mist, the constant pressure making his head throb in protest; he ground his teeth and forced himself to focus on the figure ahead of him instead, the Zenin heir, stubbornly upright in her crimson kosode despite everything.
"Damn fog," he muttered under his breath. "Damn Masanari. Damn Zenin prodigy. Damn everything."
Kaoru pushed onward without looking back, eyes fixed on the uneven ground as the slope steepened beneath their feet; the forest thinned as they climbed, the trees giving way to exposed roots and jagged stone.
Then, through the haze, it emerged a massive tree that loomed before them, misshapen, its roots clawing up from the earth like the skeletal fingers of some forgotten guardian. Between those roots yawned a hollow, dark, narrow, and cramped, but sheltered.
It wasn't much but it would do.
Kaoru stopped, leaning her shoulder carefully against the trunk as she caught her breath. "Better than nothing," she murmured, her voice strained but steady. Her gaze lingered on the hollow, measuring it automatically. We'll fit. Barely, but it'll work.
Seijiro halted a step behind her, silver hair catching what little moonlight managed to pierce the cursed fog. His lips curved into a crooked smirk. "Hah," he said quietly. "Still better than that filthy excuse for a room your Hattori friends tried to pass off as hospitality."
Kaoru's mouth twitched before she could stop it as the image flashed unbidden, Masanari Hattori shoved into that cell, stripped of dignity, left with nothing but a cracked basin to piss and his broken pride for company. "We should lock Hattori-dono in there," she muttered, almost to herself, "and leave him with nothing but that damned basin to piss in. Let's see how he manages."
Seijiro's brows shot up, then his smirk widened, delighted. "Well, well, Pretty Boy, look at you!" he drawled. "Lose enough blood and you develop a sense of humor. I'm impressed."
She huffed out a soft, surprised snort and immediately regretted it. Joking. Now. With Gojo Seijiro. The absurdity of it nearly made her laugh again and that, somehow, was worse.
They crouched and ducked beneath the roots, navigating the uneven tangle; Seijiro swore under his breath as his kosode snagged on a jutting root, the fabric pulling tight before he yanked it free with an irritated tug. Kaoru ignored him, all her focus on the hollow beneath the tree. The space was cramped and dark, smelling of damp earth and rot, but the cursed mist didn't reach inside.
That alone made it precious.
Kaoru lowered herself to the ground with a sharp exhale, turning her back to Seijiro as she sat. The relief lasted all of half a second; the moment her muscles relaxed, pain flared through her shoulder like a blade pressed into living flesh. Her hand flew to the wound, fingers pressing down as she bit hard into her lip.
This damn arrow.
The pain had settled into a constant pulse, blurring the edges of her thoughts; the bleeding had slowed, but the broken shaft jutted at an awkward angle, and she knew—knew—it couldn't stay there until morning.
The very thought of removing it made her stomach twist.
Behind her, Seijiro crouched with careless ease, entirely too comfortable for someone hiding under a cursed tree in enemy territory. His blue eyes narrowed over his shoulder as he watched the way her body trembled.
"Can you use it?" he asked suddenly.
Kaoru didn't answer at first, pretending she hadn't heard him. She focused on breathing instead, slow, controlled; then she turned her head just enough to glance at him, eyes guarded. "Use what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.
He leaned back, resting an elbow on his knee. "Reverse Cursed Technique," he said flatly, fully aware she was being dense on porpouse. "Can you use it?"
Her silence stretched a beat too long; the last thing she wanted was to reveal anything strategic—anything—to him, the arrogant Gojo heir.
"Why does it matter?" she snapped.
Seijiro let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a scoff. "Wow," he said, lips curling into an irritated grin. "You'd really rather bleed out than answer a question."
"And you'd rather talk me to death than help," she shot back, glaring over her shoulder.
He raised one hand in mock surrender. "Fine. I'll simplify it." His tone stayed infuriatingly casual, as if admitting a flaw was of no consequence to him. "I can't use it. See? It's that easy."
That made her turn. "You?" Her disbelief slipped through despite herself. "The Gojo heir can't use Reversed Cursed Technique? For real?"
"For real." He shrugged unbothered. "Tried a lot. Over and over. Can't quite get the hang of it."
She studied him closely, suspicion etched into every line of her face. It sounded impossible, absurd, even, how could the Gojo heir, hailed as a prodigy, fail to master such a skill? Is he lying? It was hard to tell; but he met her gaze without flinching, offering the admission as if it were meaningless trivia rather than a flaw.
If he was lying, he was very, very good at it.
"Then you must be really an idiot," she muttered, turning her attention back to the damp ground. "And here I thought you were just pretending."
The insult lacked heat; her exhaustion dulled it, and she hated that he could probably hear it. It wasn't trust, not exactly. But it wasn't hostility, either. A truce, she reminded herself. That's all this is.
He chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to close the space between them. "So, what about you, Pretty Boy? Smarter than me?"
Her hand tightened over the wound. "…I can use it," she admitted quietly. "I'm not good at it, it takes me some time. But by morning, I'll be fine."
jiro tilted his head, his smirk fading . "Good," he said, and for once there was no sarcasm in it. Then his tone shifted again, more focused and pragmatic. . "But that arrow's not waiting until morning. We need to get it out," he said bluntly. "And it won't be pleasant."
Kaoru's breath hitched; he wasn't wrong, but that didn't make the thought any easier to stomach.She traced the shaft with tentative fingers, then traced the unmarred skin at the front of her collarbone. "It didn't go through," she muttered.
"Great," Seijiro said, already moving behind her with the fluidity of someone who rarely hesitated. "That means there's only one way out."
She stiffened as his hand settled on her shoulder and his fingers closed around the arrow. "Bite down, Pretty Boy," he said lightly, his tone taking on a mockingly reassuring lilt. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."
Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her fists against the damp earth. "Just—do it," she hissed.
Seijiro chuckled softly. "At my count," he said, amused. "One—"
He didn't count past one; the arrow came free in a single, brutal yank, the sound of tearing flesh and the metallic tang of blood filling the small hollow. Pain exploded through her, white and blinding. Kaoru doubled forward with a muffled cry, teeth biting deep into her lip as tears burned at her eyes.
"You—bastard," she gasped, shaking, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "You said—"
Seijiro merely inspected the bloodied arrow with maddening nonchalance, turning it between his fingers like a toy. "What? You looked so tense," he said mildly. "Figured I'd surprise you." Then, with a faint smirk: "You're welcome, by the way."
Kaoru had half a mind to pick up the nearest rock and throw it at his stupid head; unfortunately, every ounce of her strength was currently dedicated to the far less satisfying task of not collapsing face-first into the dirt.
She hunched forward, as the pain was immediate and stupidly bright, but she forced her breathing into something controlled, then pushed her cursed energy into compliance. Reverse Cursed Technique wasn't natural for her, never had been. A faint bloom of warmth spread under her; it nudged the pain back, not erasing it so much as dulling it into something tolerable, knitting torn flesh just fast enough that she wouldn't bleed out before she could finish the job.
It wasn't much but it might keep her alive long enough.
Maybe.
A few paces away, Seijiro crouched, his Six Eyes cutting through the haze as he held the extracted arrow with irritating care, turning it between his fingers as though he didn't trust it until he'd inspected it from every angle. The shaft still pulsed faintly, a slick residue of Masanari's cursed energy clinging to it.
Not just residual.
Active corrosion.
"Typical," he muttered, voice tight with irritation. "Hattori clan's signature cursed energy trait. What a bastard."
The poison wasn't a substance, not really, it wasn't something you could taste or smell or scrape off. It was cursed corrosion meant to fester once it was inside the body, slow and patient, the kind of damage you noticed only when it was too late to fix.
But Kaoru had been fast, too fast, he'd noticed it days ago, and she had started to push back her Reverse Cursed Technique against the corrosion almost immediately after impact. The corrosive energy hadn't had time to properly circulate, hadn't had time to settle into the bloodstream. If she kept the cursed energy flowing, she might avoid anything permanent.
Might.
Seijiro exhaled and finally flicked the arrow behind him like it offended him to keep holding it. "It was laced with his corrosive energy," he said, blunt and factual. "But you started healing quickly enough. You should be fine."
He tried to make it sound careless; the strain in his voice betrayed him anyway.
The cursed mist was an endless current that scratched at his senses, and for his eyes it was too much, too many signals, too many layers, too much information to parse at once. His head throbbed with overstimulation; he shut his eyes and pressed two fingers to his temple, willing the world to be quieter.
Too much. Too much cursed energy. Too much Kaoru Zenin.
Her breathing—quiet, labored and stubbornly controlled—cut through his thoughts. He cracked one eye and caught the dark stain spreading across her kosode where blood still seeped from the freshly opened wound. Her shoulders shook faintly.
The Zenin heir, usually composed enough to cut stone with a look, was holding herself together by habit.
"Oi, Zenin-sama," he called, tone light on the surface, edged underneath. "You might want to patch that up. Your shoulder doesn't exactly scream 'thriving.'"
Kaoru went rigid and snapped a glare at him over her shoulder, brows pinched together. "And whose fault is that?" she bit, despite the faint unsteady edge that gave her away.
Seijiro's smirk returned instantly, the annoying reflex of a man who had never learned to stop poking bruises. Oh, he thought with mild amusement. Someone's not over the arrow removal. He noted the pallor of her face, the shadows under her eyes, the way her pride refused to let her sag even when her body begged for it.
"Alright, alright, Pretty Boy," he said, lifting both hands in mock surrender. "No need to unleash the full power of Zenin righteous fury on me."
Kaoru scoffed and turned away, returning to her work with the kind of focus that felt like a personal insult. She forced the RCT to keep moving, to knit; the last thing she needed was his commentary adding to her humiliation.
Behind her, Seijiro shifted, less graceful than usual as he lowered himself to sit cross-legged. The small hollow didn't give them room to be polite about distance. His back brushed hers lightly, not enough to press. Enough to share weight.
She stiffened at the touch, whole body going rigid as if he'd lodged another arrow between her ribs. Why does he always have to act so damn casually? Her instinct screamed at her to move, to put space between them, to remind herself that he was still a Gojo and she was still a Zenin and this was still enemy territory.
But the pressure of his back against hers was grounding, annoyingly so. Real. The warmth creeping up her face was far more irritating than the comfort.
Stop it, she scolded herself.
Seijiro, apparently oblivious to the internal war she was waging, leaned back with a groan and rubbed his temples again. "There," he muttered, voice thick with sarcasm. "Happy? Your precious modesty is intact. Go ahead and fix yourself up, little prince."
Kaoru hesitated, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. His head rested back, his eyes firmly closed, his fingers still pressed against his temples. He looked less like the infuriating prodigy she knew and more like someone carrying a weight he wasn't used to showing. Then, before she could stop herself, before pride could bite down on the words, she spoke.
"It's the second time."
His lips twitched into a smirk even with his eyes closed. "What's the second time?"
Kaoru swallowed; the answer lodged in her throat like something sharp. Saving my life. Twice. In one night. For what?
She hated that it bothered her, hated that it sat in her chest not like relief, but like a thorn, like a debt she couldn't quantify and therefore couldn't pay. Her jaw tightened.
"Your eyes," she said instead, quieter. "You've been rubbing them constantly."
One blue eye cracked open, peered at her with curiosity, then shut again. "Ah. That." His voice softened, fatigue fraying the edges. "My fantastic sight isn't exactly without cost. Too much cursed energy…" He exhaled. "It's like trying to see the world through broken glass."
Oh. Kaoru's brows drew together; a rare, unguarded honesty from him was more unsettling than any insult.
He let out another soft groan, the ache behind his eyes a dull, relentless thrum an she found herself listening to it, to the way his breath hitched, the way his shoulders carried tension he usually disguised under arrogance.
Is it really that draining? It made her uncomfortable; she couldn't tell if it was just her imagination, but the weight of his back against hers seemed to grow heavier with each passing second.
She turned back to her wound, to the practical problem in front of her, because practical was easier than… whatever this was. Then she slipped a hand beneath her disheveled kosode and her fingers brushed the bindings.
A familiar rush of anxiety tightened her spine. She glanced back over her shoulder, black eyes narrowing to confirm his eyes were still closed. He can't see with his eyes closed… right?
The unease didn't leave.
With a frustrated sigh, she reached under her kosode again and began unwrapping the tight bandages binding her chest, slowly, carefully, movements small enough to keep fabric from shifting too much. It was awkward with one hand, it was humiliating; it was also necessary. She kept darting glances toward him every few seconds, waiting for the snap of his voice, the tilt of his head, the inevitable realization.
The faint rustle of fabric caught his attention anyway.
"What're you doing back there?" Seijiro asked, curiosity in his voice, but—strangely—not prying.
"Bandaging my shoulder," Kaoru replied curtly, sharp enough to discourage follow-ups. "I'd rather not bleed out while I'm busy doing the work you can't."
"Ah," he said, and the corner of his mouth curled. "Fair enough." Then, after a beat, quieter: "You always patch yourself up alone? The other day too, you didn't let anyone help."
His shoulders shifted as he chuckled, and Kaoru huffed, tugging the fabric tight with a muttered curse when it refused to stay taut. "Most of the time," she admitted, quieter despite herself. She tugged the fabric tight, the makeshift bandage pressing firmly against her wound. "Sometimes 'Nobu helps."
She paused, then corrected automatically, as if formality could put armor back on her voice.
"Harunobu."
"'Nobu," Seijiro repeated, tasting the nickname with amusement. "A samurai like that? Never seen a bodyguard so devoted. What's the deal, did your father buy him with a mountain of gold or something?"
Kaoru stilled. Her fingers tightened around the bandage. For a moment, something soft crossed her expression, so brief she almost didn't let herself have it, before she resumed tying. "Harunobu is… more like an older brother," she said slowly. Then, after a pause that felt like admitting defeat: "Maybe even a father. He's been with me since I was born." Her throat tightened. "He used to be my mother's guard, until she…" Her voice faltered, the sentence collapsing.
Seijiro didn't pounce on it, didn't tease for once. A beat passed.
"Died?" he offered, and his tone—ridiculously—was gentle.
His back pressed a little more heavily against hers, though she couldn't tell if it was intentional.
Kaoru nodded, hands busy as if movement could keep her from thinking. "Tuberculosis," she said quietly. "Six years ago."
She pulled the bandage tighter, anchoring it across her chest, then wrapped fabric over her kosode again, making sure everything sat where it should. Secret contained, control restored, the Gojo heir still fooled.
"Ah. I'm sorry," he said simply.
The sincerity landed like a slap.
Kaoru starred at the bloodstained earth as her fingers went still. Sympathy from him felt wrong, it made something inside her twist not because it was unwelcome, but because it cracked open places she kept sealed.
Why does that make it worse?
Her shoulder screamed and the RCT drained her strength, yet her awareness kept drifting to that pressure of his back against hers. Not comforting, really, just… there. It made her feel less adrift.
She swallowed hard and forced her voice into something flat. "It doesn't matter," she said finally, finishing the knot with a tug.
"What do you mean?" he asked, curious.
Kaoru stared at her hands, lips pressed thin. "I mean… she wasn't much of a mother anyway," she admitted, and the words tasted bitter. "I don't think she loved me. Not really. I think she loved the idea of me, something to fulfill her own desires. She left me with…" Her voice wavered, then steadied with practiced cruelty. "More than I could handle. Maybe she thought she was protecting me, but... it doesn't matter."
Silence.
Seijiro absorbed it without comment. He knew what it was like to lose a mother, though he had never truly known his, not in the way that mattered anyway. Not the same shape, not the same story, but the same cold, empty space where something should have been; he had always thought that distance spared him the pain.
The empathy that sparked annoyed him instantly. He didn't want it, didn't ask for it.
Sitting there with their backs pressed together, it happened anyway.
"Wow. Must be tough," he said at last, voice lighter, fatigue still woven through it. "Being the illustrious Zenin heir."
Kaoru let out a small, humorless huff. "No more than any great clan heir, I imagine."
Then—dangerously—her mouth curved into a faint, weary smile. She leaned back a fraction more, letting her weight rest against him like it was nothing. Like it didn't mean anything.
"What about you, Gojo-sama?" she asked quietly. "What's it like being the pride and joy of the Gojo clan?"
Seijiro answered instantly, too brightly. "Oh, it's amazing," he said with mock enthusiasm. "My mother's alive actually and that's already something you can't brag about. Too bad she lost her mind the day I was born. She scream at anyone, doesn't recognize even my father. It's been great. Tried to kill me when I was five."
Kaoru glanced at him over her shoulder, and something in her expression softened. The sarcasm was forced. He wasn't fooling anyone, least of all her. "Tragic," she said dryly, but there was no bite in it. "And your father?"
Seijiro barked a short laugh. "Ah, my father." Mock affection dripped from his voice like poison. "Loves me to death. Like you love your most precious blade. Kept polished, kept ready, only valuable when it cuts. Nothing more, nothing less."
She couldn't help it, a small chuckle escaped her. "Oh," she murmured, and it came out half amused, half tired. "Trust me, I know that feeling."
Then, because the universe apparently enjoyed watching them commit crimes against their own pride, she lowered her voice into a dead-on imitation of her father's deep baritone:
"Kaoru. Don't embarrass the Zenin name. The clan's legacy depends on you."
Seijiro's laugh this time was genuine, short and startled, shaking his shoulders against hers. Kaoru caught herself mid-performance and groaned softly, cheeks warming.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered. "Not with a Gojo, of all people."
"Why not?" Seijiro's grin widened as he straightened slightly, suddenly theatrical. He bellowed in mock authority, "Seijiro! The Gojo clan is never on the losing side! Think of the traditions, protect the Six Eyes! The pride of the Gojo clan!" He waved a hand like a lecturing monk. "Blah, blah, blah!"
Kaoru laughed, real, and infuriatingly cathartic; she shook her head, leaning forward slightly. "Sounds about right," she admitted. "Your father and mine could hold an entire conversation without saying a single new thing. Just repeating their favorite warnings and orders."
"Traditions," Seijiro intoned solemnly, hand lifted as if delivering a sermon. "Expectations. Honor."
"Legacy," Kaoru added, lips curving with wry exhaustion. "Prestige. Sacrifice."
For a moment they sat in silence, their breathing slowing into the same rhythm. Kaoru tipped her head back slightly, feeling his head rest faintly above hers, and the tension between them eased just enough to remind her what peace could feel like.
"We're… not that different," she murmured before she could stop herself.
"Careful," Seijiro replied immediately, mock horror in his voice. "Keep talking like that and we might accidentally get along."
Kaoru snorted softly. "A Gojo and a Zenin? As if. That would be the end of our society's balance."
Seijiro let his head rest back more fully, as if giving in to gravity for the first time all night. "Well," he murmured, quieter now, "at least you've got Harunobu."
"And you've got Rensuke," Kaoru murmured back, her eyes growing heavy.
"Please. Rensuke tolerates me because he's paid to," Seijiro said, but the warmth in his voice betrayed him. "Let's not pretend otherwise."
"Then he's a buddha," Kaoru whispered, head lolling back against his back as her exhaustion caught up to her. The Reverse Cursed Technique drained her, the warmth of his back against hers turning into something dangerously close to comfort.
They sat like that as two exhausted heirs in practice, until the cursed fog outside seemed to loosen its grip for a breath.
Then Kaoru muttered, "Oi. Don't let your guard down. You can't sleep, you're heavy and annoying."
"Good thing you're a shrimp," Seijiro shot back, tone still teasing even with his eyes closed. "Or we wouldn't both fit." The idea of moving seemed impossible, but he knew she was right, they couldn't afford to let their guard down. And yet…
"I'm not sleeping," he muttered to himself as he fell asleep. "Just... resting my eyes."
.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
The ache in Seijiro's shoulders felt like it had been carved into his bones.
He stirred anyway, blinking at the thin, irritating seam of daylight leaking through the gnarled roots of their shelter.
Light? His mind hauled itself upright, sluggish and annoyed. How long did I close my eyes? He'd meant to rest for a breath, just long enough to let the self-conscious Zenin heir patch up without fainting out of shame. And yet…
He shifted with a low curse, spine protesting, muscles stiff like wet rope; something warm and steady was still pressed against his back. Seijiro let out a faint huff of amusement. Pretty Boy must've dozed off too, he thought. Not shocking, considering the blood loss and the fact that we nearly died three times.
Yawning, Seijiro opened one eye, then the other. Even filtered through cursed fog, the daylight stabbed. He pushed himself upright, ready to glance over his shoulder and find Kaoru slumped against him, probably looking offended by her own exhaustion—
—and froze.
His heart did an embarrassingly leap, as he realized what had been supporting him. Leaning against his back, supporting him in a calm, almost regal stillness, was not Kaoru.
It was a massive, jet-black wolf. One of her Divine Dog. Its golden eyes shone with faint irritation, like Seijiro was the rude one for noticing.
Seijiro jolted forward with a graceless hop he would deny later, scrambling onto his haunches. His kosode snagged on a root; he swatted it away like it was personally insulting him. "What the—?!" he hissed, staring at the shikigami as though it might suddenly decide to eat him out of principle.
The dog cocked its head as if to say, What are you screaming about?
"Oh?" Kaoru's voice drifted from the entrance to their makeshift shelter, and Seijiro whipped his head around. She stood just outside the tangle of roots, half-hidden by shadow, hair messily tied back, expression set in that familiar, maddening calm that always looked like she was judging the entire world and finding it lacking. "Awake at last, Gojo-sama?"
He straightened, instantly sour. "Why the hell was I sleeping against one of your oversized pups?" he snapped, ducking out from under the roots and emerging into the mist like a disgruntled spirit himself. He brushed dirt and bark from his black kosode, ran a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to look like he'd chosen this disheveled state on purpose.
Kaoru tilted her head, unimpressed as she stepped aside to let him through. "You're welcome to sleep on damp earth next time," she said flatly, gesturing vaguely to the Divine Dog, which had already begun padding gracefully toward the exit. "He was being considerate."
Seijiro muttered something unprintable and shot the Divine Dog a sidelong glare. "Great. Now I smell like wet dog," he grumbled, arms crossed as he stretched and cracked his back like a cat who owned the mountain.
Mist. Trees. Damp earth. More mist. Rocks.
Lovely.
His gaze drifted back to Kaoru, annoyingly steady, annoyingly upright. Bandages were wrapped tight around her shoulder and across her chest over the crimson kosode, stained dark with dried blood. The knot at the front was clumsy but sturdy, the kind of knot you tied with one hand while refusing to die on principle.
The sight confirmed what he'd already guessed: she'd bled hard through the night.
Still, her movements were controlled as she secured her katana at her side, tightened her ponytail, and looked like she'd decided exhaustion was a personal insult.
Seijiro frowned. Before he could stop himself, the question slipped out, too direct. "Did you even sleep?"
Kaoru flicked him an annoyed glance. "I told you it was a bad idea to lower your guard and fall asleep," she snapped, frowning. "Since you decided to do it anyway, I stayed awake." She tapped her bandaged shoulder with a curt gesture. "I had to keep the Reverse Cursed Technique going regardless. I'm fine now."
"Ah. Good," Seijiro said, and a strange, brief relief brushed against his consciousness; he smothered it immediately under a smirk. "And the mutt?" He nodded toward the Divine Dog, now calmly sitting at Kaoru's side. "I thought you left them with the group to signal our survival."
"One is still with them," Kaoru replied as her hand rested briefly on the dog's head. "This one stays with us. We'll need him to navigate this mist without getting lost."
"Fair enough," Seijiro said, stretching again, arching like he'd had the world's most luxurious rest instead of sleeping in a root hollow while being hunted. His back cracked; he groaned in satisfaction.
The headache from the night was gone, his shoulders loose again; he glanced at Kaoru and caught her looking him over with that sharp, assessing stare.
"What?" he asked, suddenly defensive.
Kaoru's eyes scanned his posture for lingering fatigue: no tension in his shoulders, no trace of the strain she'd seen last night. He looked—infuriatingly—like he'd reset because he had. Whatever toll the Six Eyes had taken on him earlier was no longer visible.
Idiot, she thought, biting down on her own pride. You should be thanking him for saving your life, not resenting him for resting.
She glanced away, frustration tightening her jaw. "How are your eyes?" she asked finally, making her tone as casual as she could manage.
Seijiro paused mid-stretch his arms above his head, and turned with a grin, one brow arched. "Oh?" he sang. "Concerned for my beautiful eyes, Pretty Boy?"
Kaoru's nose wrinkled. Mistake. She knew it the second the words left her mouth; of course he was fine.
"Don't worry," Seijiro continued, smug as ever. "They're sharp enough to block another arrow aimed at your sorry ass, if necessary."
Her cheeks warmed with irritation. She pivoted sharply, expression thunderous. So much for last night's fragile truce. So much for that stupid, fleeting sense that—under different circumstances—they might've been…
"Concerned for you?" she snapped. "Don't flatter yourself, Gojo-sama." She started walking, steps deliberately heavy as if she could stomp her mood into obedience. "Let's move. I'm not staying separated from Harunobu and the group a second longer."
Seijiro watched her go, arms crossed, lips twitching. "Ahh, Zenin-sama," he drawled, lazy and teasing. "Always so serious."
Still—once again—he followed without hesitation.
The Divine Dog led them through the cursed mist with silent precision, its sleek form gliding between trees like a shadow that knew the forest personally. The woods loomed oppressive around them, the air was damp, thick with cursed energy and a pressure that didn't feel like a barrier technique or a kekkai layered by human hands.
Kaoru followed close behind her shikigami, crimson kosode a violent streak against the muted palette of fog and bark. Seijiro trailed at a measured pace, Six Eyes focusing as he monitored every shift in energy. He hated to admit it, but in this mist even his Six Eyes struggled to filter noises from too far while Kaoru's shikigami, on the other hand, navigated as if the mist was nothing more than bad weather.
It grated on his pride; he kept it to himself.
His gaze drifted to Kaoru's posture, a stiffness that came and went, a subtle favoring of her shoulder. She moved steadily anyway.
Then Seijiro halted, one foot planted on a moss-covered rock; his head tilted toward the left, toward the mountain's incline. The cursed energy in the air shifted, a ripple breaking the stagnant flow.
Not human. Not a technique. Not... a curse, exactly, either.
"Zenin-sama," he called, voice low.
Kaoru stopped mid-step; the Divine Dog paused too, ears angling forward, body going taut.
Seijiro's mouth curled with forced humor. "Far be it from me to question the instincts of your mutt," he murmured, "but something's coming. From over there." He gestured subtly toward the slope.
Kaoru frowned, followed his gaze, though she could see nothing. Her hand slid to the hilt of her katana anyway. "Something like what? The Hattori?" she asked, hushed. Her boots shifted slightly, planting more firmly into the uneven ground.
"No," Seijiro replied, eyes narrowing in focus. "Not shinobi. Not sorcerers. Not…" His voice tightened. "…human."
Kaoru's grip sharpened. "A curse, then."
"A curse, or..." Seijiro muttered, and his Six Eyes confirmed it like a headache: a shape of energy that belonged to the land itself. "And it's pissed."
The Divine Dog's low growl rolled through the hollow silence, and took a defensive stance beside Kaoru.
For a moment the forest held its breath. Then came the sound: faint at first, a rhythmic thud, like a heartbeat made of stone.
Seijiro's brow furrowed. "Footsteps," he muttered, cursed energy pooling in his palm out of habit; the faint blue glow lit the fog in brief, nervous pulses.
The thuds grew heavier. Closer, until the ground trembled beneath their feet. Branches rattled, the mist seemed to ripple, and then—
A massive figure tore through the trees, splintering trunks like twigs. It was enormous, built of jagged stone and root-twined earth, a hulking body that looked less made and more unearthed. Its face—or what passed for one—was a twisted formation of sharp edges and hollow voids, with green light pulsing in its eye sockets.
It moved with mountain-slow force. The kind that didn't care if you were fast. The kind that simply decided you were in the way.
Kaoru's eyes widened. "That's not a simple curse—"
"A nature spirit," Seijiro finished, stepping back as the mountain itself seemed to shift with its advance. "A kami-type manifestation, neither good nor evil usually." His lips flattened. "Which means when it decides you're a problem, it's personal."
The spirit roared an inhuman sound that reverberated through bone and stone of the mountain and the air shook with it.
Then it lunged, and an arm the size of a boulder came down.
Kaoru threw herself sideways, boots skidding on wet earth. The impact shattered rock, sent debris screaming through the mist where she had been standing. Seijiro's Infinity flared automatically, fragments slowing and halting an inch from his skin before dropping uselessly.
She landed in a crouch and snapped a glance at him.
Seijiro ducked, irritation rising. Why is it so aggressive?
Usually, nature spirits didn't hunt humans. They warned, they pushed, they guarded territory, and sacred manifestations sorcerers were taught not to provoke, not to touch.
Unless something had corrupted its instinct into rage.
Kaoru's hands blurred into seals. "Nue!" she called.
The red winged shikigami burst from shadow with a screech, lightning crackling along its talons. It dove for the nature spirit's shoulder, lightning biting into stone—
—and the spirit barely flinched. The impact hissed, scorched, sparked… and was swallowed by the sheer density of earth. Nue dissipated back into shadow, its strike absorbed like rain against a cliff.
"Tough bastard," Seijiro muttered, and Blue pulsed from his hand, a gravitational tug snapping falling rubble sideways and away from Kaoru's head without even looking; he moved in a blur, landing gracefully atop a boulder as another massive sweep came for him.
Stone screamed past where he'd been.
"This thing's built like a fortress," he observed, dry.
"Tell me something I don't know!" Kaoru snapped under her breath and sent the Divine Dog in. The shikigami lunged, jaws clamping onto the spirit's leg with a ferocity that would've torn minor curses apart and flesh from bone—
—but stone didn't bleed.
The bite left gouges. It drew a deep, resonant growl from the spirit; it did not stop it. Each step the spirit took sent shockwaves through the ground, forcing Kaoru to constantly adjust her footing.
Her shoulder twinged; she ignored it as she formed another hand sign that drained a good chunk of her cursed energy.
Max Elephant slammed into existence with a heavy roar, its trunk immediately unleashing a torrent of water at the spirit's knee joint. The force hammered stone, water carving into cracks, turning the earth beneath slick and unstable.
The spirit stumbled just enough and stone cracked.
"Finally," Seijiro muttered, and he hated that admiration slid into his voice.
He launched himself forward with Blue, pulling his own body through space as he closed distance to the spirit's head in a heartbeat.
"Let's see if you like this," he said, and hurled Blue into its face.
Convergence detonated as rock sheared away, shards exploding outward like shrapnel, reaching for the convergence's core. The spirit roared, shaking off the assault, refusing to crumble. It swung again, wide, so brutal the air itself bending with the force.
Seijiro kept Infinity active, but he could feel it: this wasn't a curse acting on instinct. It was guarding something.
"This isn't working," Kaoru muttered, breath harsh as she redirected Max Elephant and recalled it before the nature spirit could crush it with a single, angry blow.
Seijiro appeared beside her in a flash, catching his sleeve on a twig and making an annoyed sound. "You don't say," he replied, but the mockery was thin now. His Six Eyes flickered, dissecting the nature spirit's cursed signature. Then his expression darkened. "It's corrupted," he said quietly. "There's something threaded through it. Like it has been put at guard of something."
Kaoru's eyes widened. "The Mitsuboshi no Yari."
Seijiro's grin turned sharp, too bright for how serious his eyes were. "So the damn thing is close." He glanced uphill, toward the rocky incline where the energy felt densest. "Great. Let's take down this walking mountain first, and then we'll go find it."
Kaoru's jaw tightened. "Hattori-dono will blame us in under a second." Seijiro's lips quirked, then Kaoru's mind shifted into strategy. "Quick. I'll distract it," she said, recalling Max Elephant fully into shadow. "Get me above it."
Seijiro lifted an eyebrow. "Above it? Planning something dramatic, Pretty Boy?"
"Do you always waste time asking questions?" she shot back, already forming seals.
Rabbit Escape erupted from the ground in a blizzard of white bodies as dozens swarmed around the nature spirit's feet, a living tide of fluffy confusion. The nature spirit roared, swinging wildly, crushing rabbits that dissolved into shadow only to be replaced instantly by more.
Seijiro didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the back of Kaoru's kosode with an infuriating lack of ceremony.
"Oi—!" she protested the manners, outraged on reflex—
—and then Blue snapped into place.
The world dropped away as they shot upward with disorienting speed, mist ripping past, Kaoru's stomach twisting as the forest shrank beneath them. Seijiro held her like a sack of rice and she hated it.
"Stop squirming and get the job done!" he snapped, hauling her steady as they hovered above the nature spirit's head.
Kaoru barely registered her position before instinct took over. She formed a quick hand sign, voice sharp as she summoned her Max Elephant once more mid-air.
For a fraction of a second, even Kaoru's brain screamed this is insane, and then the massive shikigami's weight slammed down onto the nature spirit's head with cataclysmic force.
Stone shattered; cracks spiraled down the nature spirit's body like lightning through a mountain. The nature spirit roared, a sound of rage and grief tangled together, and then its form collapsed inward, breaking into jagged rubble; the corrupted cursed energy unraveled and the forest went unnaturally quiet.
Seijiro landed with infuriating grace, released Kaoru with an unceremonious shove, and brushed dirt from his kosode as if he'd just finished a casual morning stretch.
"You're welcome," he said smugly.
Kaoru shot him a glare, breath uneven, her hands tightening into fists. "You're lucky we don't have time for me to teach you manners," she snapped, stepping toward the shattered remains.
The rocks still pulsed with residual energy, sickly traces left behind like bruises in the air. Kaoru crouched, running her fingers over a fractured slab; the texture felt wrong, like stone that had been forced to move against its nature.
"This was the mountain's nature spirit," she muttered, voice tight. "A guardian, probably akin to a kami and sacred to the Hattori and anyone who lives here." Her jaw clenched. "As if they needed another reason to want us dead."
Seijiro approached behind her, steps light. He glanced at the rubble, then at her. "It tried to kill us first," he said, deceptively casual, pale eyes sharp. "Hattori-dono can sulk himself to the afterlife."
"I know," Kaoru replied, but her shoulders stayed tense. "That doesn't make it… right." Her voice softened, almost to herself. "Sorcerers aren't supposed to interfere with nature spirits. They're manifestations of the land, they protect the territory."
Seijiro's gaze lifted uphill, where the cursed energy still pulsed, insistent. "Well. If the spear's up there," he said, uncharacteristically serious, "then we check it. No point in going back to the group just to risk losing track of this place."
Kaoru followed his gaze. For a moment, she looked almost… resigned. Then she nodded once. "Agreed."
He blinked, then grinned. "You agree? Wow. The Zenin heir agreeing with me? I'm truly honored."
She rolled her eyes and stood, adjusting her grip on her katana. "And you used your brain for once," she shot back, already starting toward the rocky incline. "I'm surprised."
The Divine Dog moved at her side, silent and watchful.
Seijiro followed, lips twitching. "Let's go," he murmured, more serious than his tone wanted to admit. "Before Hattori-dono shows up, sees the shattered kami, and decides it's my fault for breathing too loudly in sacred territory."
The climb was steady but treacherous, the forest thinning as they gained height and the ground turning into a mean mix of slick stone and jagged outcroppings. Kaoru slowed instinctively, boots finding purchase on narrow ledges, fingers digging into rough rock for balance. Behind her, Seijiro scaled the incline with infuriating ease, like gravity had signed a personal non-aggression pact with the Gojo clan.
"You look like you're struggling, Pretty Boy," he called up with that lazy drawl he used when he wanted to be punched.
"Maybe I wouldn't be," Kaoru shot back without looking, "if you stopped talking for once. But you seem incapable of that."
Seijiro's grin was audible. He didn't answer. For a few blessed minutes, the only sounds were the scrape of boots on stone and the occasional crack of loose pebbles tumbling down into fog.
After a short but taxing climb, they reached a narrow path carved into the mountain side, the rock here worn smooth by time and weather. Kaoru hauled herself onto the ledge first, steadying her breathing, then glanced back just in time to see Seijiro join her graceful enough to be insulting.
The Divine Dog sniffed the air, ears swiveling, then padded confidently down the path as if it had been here before, and Seijiro's eyes narrowed, as he tracked the subtle density changes in the cursed energy flow.
"Your pup's got good instincts," he said, nodding after the shikigami. "The cursed energy's thicker that way."
The path wound sharply through the mountain side, uneven and narrow enough that one bad step would turn into a long, humiliating fall. The further they went, the more the cursed mist hummed not like a normal barrier, but like the corrosive kekkai it was, eating at the land from the inside.
Then the path narrowed, and opened.
A cavern yawned out as if the rock itself had been hollowed by a slow, patient hand; the air inside felt wrong, and shadows shifted along jagged walls. Cursed energy swelled until it pressed against them like a hand on the throat.
At the center stood a small Shinto shrine: aged yet sturdy, a pocket of reverence at odds with the violence saturating Iga.
"Probably that nature spirit's shrine," Seijiro murmured, glancing above theire head.
A vibrant red torii gate marked the entrance, and beyond it, a raised stone platform held a modest altar and a mausoleum carved directly into the rock.
Kaoru stepped forward cautiously, boots crunching softly on gravel; her eyes swept the space, cataloging angles, exits, lines of sight. The Divine Dog's hackles lifted; a low growl vibrated in its chest as it stared toward the altar.
Seijiro lingered a few paces behind with detached curiosity, then his Six Eyes caught the pulse at the altar's center and the air around him changed. His gaze narrowed as he stepped up beside Kaoru and lifted a hand. "Oi, Zenin-sama," he said, voice low. "There."
Kaoru followed his gesture and stopped breathing; it was her first time seeing the weapong in person.
The spear stood upright at the heart of the altar, embedded like a stake through the shrine's sanctum.
Crimson shaft, gleaming faintly. Golden trident-like blade, pulsing with an unnatural glow. The cursed energy wrapping it wasn't passive; it moved like something alive, tendrils spilling out in thick spirals that fed into the cavern walls, into the mountain, into the entire choking blanket that had swallowed Iga.
"The Mitsuboshi no Yari," Kaoru whispered, too quiet to be reverent, too careful to be anything else. As if speaking louder might make it turn toward her.
"The Three Star Spear," Seijiro confirmed as if greeting an old friend.
Kaoru's stomach turned. So this is it. The source, the wedge driven into her clan's allied territory like a knife left in plain sight. An artifact that didn't just shift power but rewrote the rules of who could threaten whom, the artifact that could change the balance of power in a nation already teetering on the brink.
Seijiro broke the silence. "Well," he said lightly. "What now, Zenin-sama?"
Kaoru didn't answer immediately; their eyes met and suspicion sparked, immediate and instinctive, because the spear didn't exist in a vacuum.
If Seijiro got his hands on it, the Gojo could reinforce Kyoto's barrier, keep Toyotomi Hideyori protected, drag the nation deeper into a divide that was already cracking at the seams.
If Kaoru's clan secured it, the Zenin could hand it to Tokugawa Ieyasu—their daimyo, their rising power—tilting the balance irreparably. The Toyotomi were already bleeding influence while Tokugawa was rising, and in a world where jujutsu politics shadowed human politics, a weapon like this didn't just "help."
It decided.
This spear mustn't fall into the Gojo clan's hands.
Yet she knew he was thinking the same of her, wary of her clan's intentions.
Neither of them trusted the other to touch it. Neither of them could pretend otherwise.
Kaoru broke first, voice firm. "The mission is neutral."
Seijiro held her gaze for a beat, but his usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. Then he nodded once, slow. "We decide what happens to the spear later, in Kyoto," he said, matching her steadiness. "With the other clans."
The cavern seemed to hold its breath anyway, as if the shrine itself disapproved of compromise made under duress. Then, almost in unison, they exhaled, the tension easing just slightly as their attention returned to the spear. They stepped closer, carefully.
Seijiro's gaze flicked around the cavern, then back to the spear. His mouth tightened. "Who put it here?" he muttered, mostly to himself. "This isn't exactly a convenient storage spot."
Kaoru's eyes narrowed as she scanned the shrine's construction, the way the kekkai clung to the torii, the mausoleum, the stone platform. "If I didn't know better," she said, voice threaded with irony, "I'd say the Gojo clan. Plant the spear in Iga and blame the Zenin, poison the territory, let the Zenin and Hattori eat each other alive… it would fit your reputation."
Seijiro snorted, but it wasn't amused. "And yet?" he prompted, sensing there was more to her thought.
"And yet," Kaoru said, darker now, "you'd never willingly remove it from Kyoto. Not from Fushimi Castle. Not even for this."
Seijiro's jaw tightened at the mention, irritation flaring, not at her, exactly, but at the implication that followed him like a curse.
Fushimi Castle. The kekkai arount it. Toyotomi Hideyoshi's shadow still clinging to the earth like a memory. And Seijiro Gojo, the only living sorcerer anyone could name who had already activated the Mitsuboshi no Yari successfully to sustain a major protective kekkai around Fushimi Castle to defend Toyotomi Hideyoshi.
"Just like you Zenin wouldn't have stashed it here," he said, tone thoughtful, almost reluctant. "On allied territory? In Iga?" His eyes flicked to the torii. "Your Hattori allies would call this what it is. A declaration of war."
Kaoru's fingers curled lightly against the bandage at her shoulder. "Everyone thinks the Zenin did it because the spear benefits Tokugawa-dono," she said. "Hideyoshi dies, the Toyotomi weaken, Tokugawa-dono rises, and the Zenin with him. Convenient."
"And everyone thinks the Gojo did it because I'm the only one alive who has activated it successfully." His eyes cut to her. "Which means, the Hattori will blame me first. And your clan will encourage it."
Kaoru didn't deny it, just he tracked the spear's output again. "It's anchored properly," he said quietly. "Someone didn't drop it and run."
Kaoru's gaze slid to him, sharp. "And someone had to activate it."
The air between them shifted because that was the hinge of the entire problem.
Not who stole it. Who could actually make it work.
"Who else can even do it?" she asked, voice low. "Who else can activate Mitsuboshi no Yari to sustain a corrosive kekkai on this scale without it killing them?"
Seijiro's eyes narrowed, and for once he didn't rush to fill the silence with swagger; the answer was infuriating in its simplicity. "Me. You, probably. Tengen-sama. And no one else," he said at last. "Not anyone we know, at least. If the Kamo had someone capable of this—" He scoffed. "We'd never hear the end of it."
"…They'd brag," Kaoru admitted, almost reluctantly.
Seijiro's eyes gleamed, cold and certain. "Meaning, someone is hiding a prodigy of impossible caliber…" His smile returned, but it was sharp in the wrong way. "So," he murmured, almost conversational, "the real question is…"
Kaoru's eyes met his, and for a brief, ugly moment, they weren't heirs or enemies or pawns. "Who really benefits," she said quietly, "from making the Zenin and Gojo tear each other apart, and dragging the Hattori into it?"
.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
The Kamo estate baked beneath August sun, every shadow sharp-edged, every leaf in its place. The gardens were perfect, raked gravel, stones, clipped hedges, order curated so perfectly it almost felt like a threat.
Under the shade of a carefully built engawa, the elder head of the Kamo clan reclined with the ease of a man who had never once been forced to hurry. His paper fan, painted with cranes mid-flight, moved in lazy, unbothered arcs, his face was lined with age and the smooth expression of a kindly patriarch.
In his mind, the nation's political turmoil played like private stage, and he savored it with the hunger of an audience member who had bribed the actors.
Ishida Mitsunari's maneuvering in the council of regents after Toyotomi Hideyoshi's death, against Tokugawa Ieyasu, was almost too predictable. The power vacuum, the shifting alliances, the righteous speeches delivered through clenched teeth, so many men convinced they were steering history, when history was... simply letting them exhaust themselves.
"Fools," he thought, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "All of them scuttling about like rats, certain their legacy will outlive the next season."
The fan paused mid-swing as his gaze sharpened, fixing on some point beyond the engawa.
"And my dear heirs," he murmured, voice soft with mock fondness. "Have they found it yet, I wonder? Or perhaps…"
A faint shuffle broke the stillness. A Kamo retainer approached across the courtyard, posture respectful in the rigid way that meant fear dressed up as reverence; he stopped at a respectful distance and dropped into a deep bow.
"Kamo-dono," he began.
The old man's fan flicked once; permission to speak.
He stepped closer, leaning in to whisper directly into his ear, voice low and careful, ensuring the trembling figure kneeling in the courtyard—head bowed so far it nearly touched the gravel—heard nothing at all.
"Kamo-dono, we've received word from our operatives at the Iga border," the sorcerer murmured. "The kekkai has begun to dissipate."
For a heartbeat, the elder's expression remained serenely blank; then the corners of his lips twitched.
And then, completely, delightfully, his face lit up.
"Oh?" he breathed, and his fan snapped open with a pleased sound. "Oh, that's wonderful!" He clapped his hands together like a delighted grandfather being told a child had recited a poem correctly. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
The sorcerer remained bowed, wisely silent.
The old man leaned forward just slightly. "And—do tell me—who was the heir that retrieved it? Was it Gojo-sama?"
The sorcerer hesitated only long enough to choose his words carefully. "Witnesses report… both heirs," he whispered. "Gojo Seijiro and Zenin Kaoru, both alive. Leaving the kekkai zone."
A pause.
Then the elder Kamo let out a laugh, soft at first, then warmer, the kind of laugh that made it sound as though the sun had decided to indulge him personally.
"Together?" he echoed, like the concept was a joke. "Together." His fan fluttered, hiding his fox-like grin for a moment, but not his delight. "Oh, that will not please Zenin-dono at all," he said, bright with anticipation. "Not at all."
The sorcerer's eyes remained down; he knew better than to ask why. He also knew the answer already.
The elder Kamo's smile deepened, and behind it sat something satisfied.
Chaos, blooming. Misunderstanding, fermenting. Accusations, inevitable.
If Kaoru returned alive, Takahiro Zenin would have to improvise, he would be furious and direct blame even harder, because pride never let a man admit his own hand slipped. And the Gojo clan would do what it always did when cornered: bare teeth.
Delicious.
"I imagine," the Kamo elder mused aloud, "our dear Zenin Takahiro has already received my invitation and is well on his way here." His eyes narrowed with fond anticipation, as though picturing the man's face. "He'll be so eager to discuss this unfortunate… misunderstanding."
The sorcerer inclined his head, stepping back to give him space and only then did the elder Kamo turn his gaze to the man kneeling in the courtyard.
The figure's shoulders shook, sweat and terror darkening the collar of his kosode. He didn't dare look up; he knew what the courtyard meant, and he knew what the silence meant. The Kamo patriarch expression softened into something tender. Kind eyes, gentle mouth. A patriarch about to dispense wisdom.
"You are with the Maeda, right? You know why you're here, don't you?" he asked, voice deceptively warm.
The man's breath hitched. "K-Kamo-dono, please—I only followed your orders—"
"I know," the old man interrupted smoothly, rising to his feet with a slowness that felt ceremonial. He began walking toward the kneeling man, sandals whispering against wood. "And that," he said mildly, "is precisely the problem. Especially since you serve the very daimyo now whispering in the young Toyotomi heir."
He stopped a few paces away and tilted his head.
"You see," he continued, voice still gentle, "if someone were to discover that the Three Star Spear was removed on my orders… it would be… inconvenient."
The kneeling man finally lifted his head an inch, eyes wide with frantic hope. "P-please, Kamo-dono, I swear I said nothing, I—"
The elder raised a hand. The man choked on his words and froze.
"Do not fret," the old man said with a soft sigh. "I'm in an exceptionally good mood today." He clasped his hands together in something like prayer. "And I truly am grateful for your service." His smile sharpened, though it never stopped being pleasant. "After all," he added lightly, "you performed your role beautifully."
The kneeling man's mouth parted in terror as the elder's voice dipped.
"My sacrificial pawn."
The man went rigid, and then, almost like an afterthought, the elder's expression shifted into something that could—if one were foolish—be mistaken for regret.
"Ah," he sighed, as if remembering manners. "How rude of me." He leaned forward slightly, apologetic. "I am sorry," he said, and the words were sincere in the way poison could be sincere. "Truly. But you understand," he murmured, almost kindly. "I simply cannot afford to be inconvenienced."
After all if anyone learned the Kamo had moved the spear, had placed it, had nudged the kekkai into being, then the scandal would be… messy. It would invite questions he did not want asked.
Too early. There was still so much to do. It would endanger the one thing he refused to gamble.
His beloved and prodigious granddaughter.
The man tried to speak but no sound came out. A projectile of blood erupted from the elder's hands and pierced cleanly through the man's forehead, a single, neat execution.
The body toppled forward, and gravel crunched. A dark pool spread across the raked stones, ruining the courtyard's perfect lines.
The elder Kamo hummed in satisfaction, lowering his hands and brushing a nonexistent speck of dust from his sleeve; he didn't look at the corpse again as he returned to his seat beneath the veranda.
"Excellent!" he said, as lightly as if concluding a pleasant transaction. His fan resumed its lazy arc. "Now then, let us prepare our famously neutral hospitality." His smile widened. "For the return of our two glorious heirs—"
A pause, just long enough to savor it.
"—together."