the fruits

Kyoto, 1998

KYOTO'S GION DISTRICT STOOD AS A SHINY BEACON OF GEISHA ACTIVITY. The street the man traversed in — the Shirakawa area — was not as crowded as the Hanami-koji street which was filled with ochaya and restaurants serving kaiseki ryori. Most people were interested in the exclusivity of having a geisha or their apprentice — a maiko — entertain them in the ochaya. But the man was already used to such luxury and finery that eluded the lives of most people. If he so wished, he could summon the geisha to his own home and have them perform for him every dinner.

But he had never been interested in those kinds of things, enduring them only for the sake of propriety demanded as a son of his clan.

The man stopped in front of a machiya, old yet well maintained — the building was a testament to enduring times. The man didn't need to lower his hood before the door slid open, an elderly woman dressed in a plain yet fine forest green kimono bowed her head towards him.

“Welcome,” she said, eyes downcast. The man was pleased to note that she didn't address him with his surname, understanding the delicacy of certain matters.

It didn't matter, her silence was bought by his money and the man had always had a penchant for cruelty the woman would certainly like to avoid.

The man slid into the machiya, not bothering to remove his shoes or pull down the hood of his jacket.

The elderly woman, the owner of this fine establishment, said nothing. She was already used to the rude behaviour of patrons, most especially of this man’s clan. Quietly, she walked behind him, careful to maintain a respectable distance as he glanced towards the slightly open shoji doors where beautiful geisha or maiko entertained their patrons.

Yes, this was only the storefront. What the man sought lied beyond the dazzling and colourful world of the geisha and deep into the shadowy underbelly which was hidden from most onlookers.

The elderly woman had long worked in this machiya, starting from a lowly servant all the way to becoming its owner. She had been a maiko, a geisha, and to the sorcerer clans — a highly sought after oiran.

Prostitution was outlawed in Japan since 1957, but to those high above in position — the laws of non-sorcerers were only a plaything to be discarded whenever they so desired.

This man’s clan in particular, had an age long tradition where upon reaching the age of 16, the male members of the main family were presented with an oiran to teach them the pleasures of the flesh. Sometimes, if the man liked them well enough he would keep the oiran as his mistress, away from his wife. He would visit her in this machiya and shower her with gifts and luxury, yet if that were the case the oiran in question could not accept any other clients thus it would be known that she was spoken for and another man's toy. And if the man in question grew bored of her, she would be ostracized by those clients because if the man discarded her then she must not be very good at her job, no?

The elderly woman had been the oiran chosen for this man's uncle and she had been his mistress until the end of his life. In that, the elderly woman was fortunate that her patron was unlike his brother — the current clan head — who never favoured a single oiran and instead switched mistresses in the same manner one would change their clothing.

Though the clan head has not had need for the woman's establishment since he married his third wife. Instead the elderly woman now had to contend with his sons. The eldest was as capricious as his father before him, the third had a preference for taller women with dark hair but he had never chosen a mistress, and the fourth's mistress was an oiran named Shirayuki who had cultivated a cold persona.

But it was this man, the second son, which disturbed the elderly woman more than she'd like to admit.

The man stopped before a room, the chambers he often frequented when visiting. Carefully, the elderly woman stepped forward to pull open the shoji door and allowed the man to step in before her.

The man discarded his shoes and settled on the cushion on the tatami with a loud exhale of breath, pulling down the hood of his jacket. He was dressed casually, in modern clothes. A black jacket with a black turtleneck and a pair of jeans, his shoes were just the average sneakers one could perhaps thrift from a store.

The man was not unpleasant to look at, handsome even as he rested his elbow on his knee pulled to his chest with the other cross legged. Even his demeanor was unlike his elder brother, which left much to be desired. The man was perfectly polite, almost too polite for a Zenin. It was a perfect mask to the outside world, to even the oiran of this place and that was what made him so unnerving.

He was a monster hiding in plain sight, disguised as a good looking human. It was as if there was something other wearing his skin like a cloak.

The man's dark irises met the woman's own. “Well?” his fingers rhythmically tapped the table, “do you have what I asked for?”

The woman bowed and closed the door, summoning the particular oiran the man had requested for the night by her side.

Could the girl before her be called an oiran? No, she had not completed her training yet and she was to be trained as a maiko, not an oiran. But better one girl than the entire establishment gone to waste, the man was not the heir but he was still the son of a powerful clan, the son of the clan head.

The girl entered and the woman kept a firm hand on her shoulder, trying to offer her comfort in any way she could.

The man had begun smoking from the kiseru the woman had always had prepared for him, the smell of tobacco filling the air causing the girl to wrinkle her nose.

The man let out a breath of a laugh, tapping the kiseru on the table. “No,” he said, “a little younger and not with blue eyes. I want eyes the colour of honey, like molten gold in the darkness and dark hair the colour of glistening shadows with skin like the finest porcelain. She's too old for what I have in mind.”

The woman's shoulders sagged, she did not want this girl to entertain the man. But the man's words made her stiffen once more. There was one girl, not even of age to begin training as a maiko, who worked as a servant here. “Chiyo, bring Sen here,” the woman ordered.

“Oh and make sure to dress the girl in a dark coloured yukata,” the man said airily, looking at them through the corner of his eye. Chiyo paused in her steps and the woman felt her spine become as taut as a bowstring as she looked on at the man within the room. “I want her hair to be left down as well, none of that fancy updos.”

“Yes, sir.” Chiyo muttered, as quiet as a mouse while she bowed. The man heard and gave Chiyo a genial smile as if she were a circus elephant performing tricks.

The man took a drag from his pipe, leaning back as he seemed to look at the woman contemplatively. “You were my uncle's whore, weren't you?”

The woman took a tentative step into the room, falling down gracefully into a seated position with her hands resting on her lap. “I did serve your uncle, the previous clan head.” she tried not to let the offense show at being so blatantly referred to as a whore. She was an oiran, just as educated as a wife was in domestic matters, only she was learned in the art of various kinds of entertainment. To experience her touch had been considered a privilege only the most powerful of men could do.

“Yes, he named his son after you.” the man blew out smoke in a manner which showed he was practiced.

“I remember Toji-sama, yes.”

The oiran who had been gifted to him for his 16th birthday came back satisfied and unhurt, a far cry from his elder brother - Jinichi - who reduced the oiran gifted to him into a painting of bruises and tears. The boy — Toji — had been inexperienced and reluctant, but Hotaru had mentioned she got him going after a few strokes. He was not the most virginal man the well-trained oiran had ever bedded, but he was not the most practiced either yet Hotaru had mentioned with more practice he could become very good indeed.

“What was your name back then, again? I seem to recall my aunt sobbing about you several times.”

“It was Tokiko,” yet the woman had not been Tokiko now for a long time.

The man looked as if he wanted to say something, but his dark eyes moved behind the woman and the woman looked behind her to see that Chiyo had brought seven year old Sen. Dressed in a plain black cotton yukata, her loose, mousy brown hair appearing black in the dim light — Sen was jittery. While her skin was not the cooler shade of porcelain, it was a pale ivory that could pass as such in low light.

And by the way the man's eyes darkened with desire at the sight of her, the woman realized she had done a job well done. As always.

It didn't mean she had to like it.

The woman stood up in a single, smooth movement, placing a hand on Sen's shoulder who was looking at the man with fascination. As if he were a pretty new toy than a monster wearing the skin of a human.

“Go to him,” the woman said lowly, giving her shoulder one final squeeze before Sen crossed the threshold of the room and the woman slid the door shut behind her. Not fully, allowing a sliver of space to remain.

The woman took a step back and watched.

The man had made Sen sit before him on the zabuton in a seiza with her hands flat on her lap.

The man brushes back a lock of Sen's hair behind her ear, leaning forward to brush his nose against the bare skin of her neck. Sen's body became taut and the lightest of whimpers left her lips, already she looked as if she was about to break down into sobs.

The man chuckled, pulling away from the child and extending a hand to the wagashi spread out on the table. He picked off a sakuramochi and held it out to Sen. “Eat.” he said, his tone gentle and coaxing.

The woman thanked the gods that Sen had the good intuition to simply take the wagashi and bite into it, chewing onto the sticky pink rice cake. The man watched her, lips curved in an absentminded smile.

“You will call me onii-san,” the man said, petting Sen's head affectionately.

Sen nodded, head bobbing. “Yes, onii-san.”

The man's smile grew pleased and he continued, “While you're with me, your name won't be Sen. Do you understand?”

The woman suddenly felt ill, everything suddenly coming together. The dark hair, honey eyes, and pale skin all painted a picture of the solemn child she had once seen standing beside the clan head on a visit to present an oiran for the clan head's fourth son.

The name that spilled from the man's lips made the woman feel bile rise up her throat.

“And your name will be Naoki.”

“Later when you’re clan head, I gotta be the head of the Kukuru Unit and Mai’ll be your head of the Akashi - cause I know pisshead Naoya is gonna be head of the Hei. I’m gonna be a super strong sorcerer, you know? Even though I can’t see curses, as long as you can still hit ‘em - I can hit really hard!”

“I know.”

“So, you’re gonna do it right?”

“Before I do all those things, I need you to get down,” Naoki stopped their one armed-pushups, their twin cousins sitting on their back holding a few rolls of towels for them to use. Maki huffed, but the toddler slid off their back as they had asked.

Mai had already slid off earlier, the moment Naoki stopped. The timid girl held out a towel as Naoki pushed themself up in a standing position, Naoki took a towel from her small hands. “Thank you, Mai.”

Maki huffed, puffing out her cheeks like a chipmunk as she shoved her twin with a bump of her hips. Anyone else, then they might have been lightly jolted, but Maki had always been unusually strong and so Mai stumbled to the ground with an eep!

Naoki grabbed the girl before she could fully hit the ground and hurt herself and cry, which was something Naoki absolutely wanted to avoid since they didn’t know how to deal with crying children. Setting the girl down on her feet, Naoki grabbed the towel Maki was shoving at their face, still with a chipmunk-like expression.

“You’re not gonna say thank you?” Maki crossed her arms as much as she could with her armful of towels,

“I think I already did, by listening to you yap.”

“I don’t yap!” the girl’s face was red, and with the roundness of her childish features she seemed more like a tomato than a child.

“You do,” Mai teased, running behind Naoki, “you’re a yapper, Maki!”

Maki grumbled, almost like a displeased cat. “Well, someone’s gotta say something! All you do is bow your head and take everyone’s shit, Mai!”

Were toddlers supposed to know the word ‘shit’? Naoki didn’t know, they didn’t really keep track of when and how certain vocabulary entered their young and impressionable brains. If it was swear words it was probably their father and if it was a slur it was probably their mother.

“Oh yeah?!” Mai’s face was red now and Naoki spotted a certain glassiness to her eyes which made them swear under their breath. “At least… At least I’m not a monkey!”

“Mai.”

The girl’s head snapped towards Naoki, expression terrified. Oh shit.

“I’m not a monkey…” Maki sniffled, her tiny hands clenched into fists, “you’re so mean, Mai!”

“How about this - you’re both cats!” Naoki said quickly, hauling a twin in each arm.

Carrying them by their waists, Naoki ignored the flailing limbs and the cries of protest as they made their way to the Kukuru Unit’s training grounds. Maki and Mai were still going at it all the way and Naoki dearly wished they would just shut up, but like kittens with a vendetta they were hissing and attempting to claw each other by reaching across Naoki’s torso.

They were beginning to regret rescuing their cousins from a round of pot scrubbing, but really the finger-shaped bruise on Maki’s arm and the redness on one of Mai’s cheek told Naoki they had already been punished for whatever crime Ogi had deemed them to commit already. No need to make them scrub pots, besides the one making them scrub pots was bitter Aunt Saki and it was easy for Naoki to get her to cave considering their position. Of course, Naoki had to make it seem like they needed Maki and Mai for some mundane activity, so they had expressed the need for ‘towel girls’ which was utter bullshit because Naoki carried their own gear to training. And even if Naoki had a need for servants, they’d always preferred Yukina’s own personal servants.

Even if Yukina was likely not to let them use her staff, considering she was the reason heading over to the Kukuru Unit in the first place.

Something about slacking off since they were heading to Fukuoka tomorrow, which meant that they should make up for tomorrow’s training today. Golden Week or any kind of school holiday was just an excuse for Yukina to tell Naoki to hit the gym, nevermind that they were constantly on-call in Jujutsu High. Not as much as Gojo or Getou being the Special Grades they were, but Naoki was angling for a Grade 1 promotion before the year was out. They’d already gotten a recommendation, now it was just a matter of time for them to accompany a Grade 1 sorcerer on several missions.

“You’re late!”

“Really? A black cat crossed my path so I had to take the long way,” Naoki hummed, setting down Maki and Mai on the benches by the training hall. What was it that people did with children their age? Ah yeah - Naoki patted their heads which made Mai smile and Maki scowl. Well, they couldn’t please everyone they supposed.

Nobuaki was already there, arms crossed with an arrogant sneer on his shitty face. His hair was still in a shitty mohawk as always and instead of addressing Naoki, his beady eyes landed on Maki and Mai. “What’re the brats doing here?”

“They’re my towel girls.”

“They don’t seem to be carrying any towels.”

Naoki gave him a cold smile, letting their Cursed Energy flood the room like a thick mist. “And you don’t seem to value your life, talking to me like that - but here we are.”

“You should respect your elders, Naoki,” a lazy voice drawled.

Naoki turned to face the ugly mug of their eldest half-brother, Nobuhiko. “You must be new to the Zenin clan, Aniki, but we don’t respect weaklings like you here.”

“You little shit -”

Naoki clapped their hands, completely ignoring him. “Now then - all’s fair in love and war. We can do anything, but no killing. As per the rules my lady mother enforced on me, I’m not allowed to use a lick of Cursed Energy during this spar -” Naoki couldn’t help the little grin that appeared on their face, “good luck to you guys.”

And just like that, the entirety of the Kukuru unit came at her with all the force of an angry bull. Naoki couldn’t expend much energy on them, considering they still had to fight the Akashi and after that, the Hei. Some kind of endurance training in Yukina’s convoluted mind.

Naoki ducked, sweeping their leg out low to take out as much as they could. Some fell over and the sudden drop of their comrades’ bodies caused them to stumble in their steps. A stumble was all they needed as Naoki weaved through bodies, rushing at the people in front of her and evading the Kukuru unit members behind her by throwing or flipping over the men she had smacked at them.

They reached for Nobuaki, who had been watching with a disgruntled expression. Naoki clicked their tongue at the sight of him simply watching the rest of the Kukuru Unit take them, while he hung back and most likely would’ve gone in for the kill once he realized that Naoki was sufficiently distracted. Nobuaki went low and Naoki bent backwards, kicking out their legs as they backflipped upright.

As soon as their foot hit the ground, they were already jumping up to avoid the two burly men who had finally got up after the beating Naoki gave them earlier. They spun their body mid air and kneed one in the head, allowing the other - Nobuhiko - to pull them down with their arm. Their elder half brother threw them to the ground and Nobuaki was on them in an instant, until Naoki dug their heel right into his solar plexus and shoved him off - tossing him to the other one. They rolled upright, smacking a swing for their face away and squeezing the other arm which reached for them at the wrist.

Naoki glared at Nobuhiko whose wrist they held, squeezing until the bones cracked and the man groaned. They dropped the wrist like it was a hot potato and karate chopped the back of Nobuhiko’s neck - knocking him out cold. Naoki dropped to the ground beside Nobuaki, who was still winded from the savage kick Naoki had given them.

Naoki gripped the nape of his neck, squeezing just tight enough to keep him in place.

“What was that?” they hissed into his ears, “that was pathetic. You’re winded just from that?”

Naoki smashed his forehead to the ground, hard enough to knock him out.

They stood up, at the end of the training hall with the groaning bodies of the Kukuru Unit before them. Naoki took in deep breaths to regulate their breathing which had become slightly hard. They stretched their arms as they made their way towards the twins. Maki was holding out a water bottle while Mai held out a towel.

“What’s this?” Naoki raised a brow, though she did take the items off their hands with a quiet thanks.

“You deserve a reward for being cool.” Maki stated with certainty.

“That wasn’t cool,” they said, wiping off the sweat from their face and bare arms. They fixed their hair, tightening up the ponytail it was in and took a sip from the water bottle Maki had given them. “They just weren’t very strong. By the way - where did you get this?”

“Fancy eyes over there,” Maki pointed to a figure peeking out the door.

Ranta’s blue eyes met Naoki’s stare and a bluster of incoherent words echoed from the door and just like that, he ran away.

“What a wimp.” Naoki and Maki said at the same time.

“That’s mean.” Mai murmured.

“The truth hurts,” Naoki shrugged, hauling the two up by their waists like errant kittens again as they made their way towards the Akashi.

Naoki cracked their knuckles as they rolled their neck after taking down the Akashi, who provided less of a workout than the Kukuru Unit did. They gave Mochi and Moka a ruffle on their heads, truly they didn’t even need to bring out the other shikigami. Their Divine Dogs were enough and Naoki had increased their ruthless efficiency by having them go up against the curses in Getou’s collection. It was good practice for the both of them, even though they were sure Getou held back (and that thought grated more than anything else) with the amount of curses he unleashed.

Naoki supposed that was fine, training with him was a workout and pushed them in ways that none of the Zenin could, but they’d never really felt cornered. A quiet voice in their mind replied that if they were truly keen on feeling like a cornered animal, they could have a round with Six Eyes who had practically been begging the last time he had caught them training with his partner in crime.

Naoki found ways to avoid it each time saying; their goldfish needed to be fed (their only pets were their shikigami), Naoya had decided to throw a tantrum and tried to disgrace them in front of the clan so now Naoki had to defend their honour via phone call home, Obito had sired a bastard and their father was asking them to ‘take care of it’, and the most ridiculous one had been ‘I need to take a post-coitus shower’.

Six Eyes had gone ballistic at that one, Getou actually had to shove him off of them. Come to think of it - Six Eyes had been absolutely nuts.

“Who?! Damn it, Naoki - who fucking touched you?”

“Satoru, back off -” Getou had warned, stepping in between the two. His brows were knitted in confusion, clearly Six Eyes had never behaved like that when it was just the two of them hanging out.

Six Eyes had looked at Getou as if the boy had run his dog over right in front of him. “Was it him?” Six Eyes’ voice had quivered, almost like a whimper. Naoki probably should’ve had more of a reaction than standing there gaping at him losing himself to some kind of manic episode. “You - you let him touch you..?” he sounded so betrayed, like Naoki had just told him that Pokemon was better than Digimon.

Naoki, in a stroke of genius, had then asked, “Do I look like I had sex?”

Six Eyes had paused then, taking them in. “Oh, okay,” he pulled back, as if he hadn’t just tried to bite Naoki’s head off. Then he burst out laughing, which had Getou and Naoki looking at each other with the unspoken question rushing between them - did Six Eyes need to be admitted into a psychiatric hospital - “You’re so funny, Naoki! You really got me there!”

“Yeah, hahaha. My plan B if Jujutsu sorcery doesn’t work is to become a standup comedian.”

For the sake of their peace of mind, Naoki had never used that excuse ever again.

“Wow, it’s really satisfying seeing them get all beat up like that,” Maki mused from Naoki’s hold on her.

“Tell me about it.” Naoki grumbled, recalling the time the Akashi had belittled them for looking ‘too girly’. Needless to say, they shut up real quickly when Naoki beat the crap out of them.

Within the Zenin clan, sometimes there was no reasoning or placating using words - you just gotta smack a piece of shit.

It was a delicate balance, because Naoki wanted to be feared enough that her clansmen wouldn’t dare stab them in the back or attempt to usurp them - but at the same time, they wanted their respect and favour. One did not conquer a kingdom through brute strength alone, sometimes certain people needed to be drawn closer with honey.

Naoki gazed down at the twin girls in their arms, specifically at the eldest with lesser cursed energy than the average non-sorcerer. She was strong, incredibly so, her physical abilities beyond any sorcerer using Cursed Energy to boost their physical abilities. It reminded Naoki of a cousin of theirs, who decided he had had enough and left it all behind. But Maki’s Heavenly Restriction felt incomplete in a way Toji’s never was.

Twins were considered accursed in their society, because it was considered that they shared one soul and that soul was fractured into two bodies. Hence neither of them would be able to reach their full potential unless the other perished.

Ogi had wanted to kill Maki at birth, but Naobito had put his foot down. The Zenins could tolerate patricide and fratricide, but they would not tolerate filicide. Naoki knew that it was more what the other sorcery clans would say if they saw how brutish the Zenin clan could be by killing their own children. But still, no matter how disappointing their elder half-brothers were, Naobito had not decided to kill them. Even Toji’s parents had not deigned to kill him, instead killing themselves out of the shame of birthing such a child. Naoki supposed there were some lines Naobito was unwilling to cross, just as how he refused to kill Ogi no matter how much he whined about his younger brother.

Yukina would arrange it, Naoki knew their mother was itching to eliminate the man, she would if Naobito had asked. But he never did and their mother never did it herself out of some form of respect towards her husband or Yukina was hoping that the man would off himself out of the shame of birthing a girl version of Toji.

Being born without a cock was another point in the long list of his childrens’ failures according to Ogi.

They were only four. Their lives were just beginning, it was too soon to write them off as failures in Naoki’s opinion.

Naoki slid the door outside, to where the Hei courtyard was - meeting the dark gaze of Ogi who was glaring at them and the baggage they carried in their arms. Of course Naobito chose Ogi and Jinichi to be their opponents from the Hei. Naobito likely wanted to humiliate Ogi and Jinichi’s Cursed Technique resembled physical attacks that would undoubtedly distract Naoki while dealing with Ogi’s fire.

While Yukina had indeed arranged the order of opponents, the Kukuru Unit, the Akashi, and now - the Hei, in some form of endurance training for Naoki. It was Naobito who dictated who from the Hei would fight them and he chose two of its most powerful sorcerers. Jinichi’s fists would be troublesome to dodge and block on a good day, but paired with Ogi no doubt coming at them at the same time -

Naoki clicked their tongue, setting the twins down. Naoki’s merciless father then demanded that Naoki go see him right after. If they were defeated here, they’d never hear the end of it.

Naoki walked onto the courtyard, standing across their two opponents. Naoki noticed the other Hei members in the engawa lining the courtyard. An audience, how wonderful - a bunch of crows circling a battlefield looking for a meal. If Naoki lost, they’d lose the respect of the Hei and as Naoki met matching honey gold irises - ah, how troublesome.

Naoki could’ve lived if they lost in front of the Hei, but not with Naoya in the audience. They’d honestly rather die than lose a fight in front of their twat of a little brother because Naoya would never live it down.

The three fighters said nothing, Ogi simply sliding into a battle stance with his Cursed Energy at the ready and Jinichi standing there with crossed arms.

Naoki didn’t know when the fight began exactly, but Ogi was whipping out his katana and Naoki had summoned Datto - the rabbits swarming the area. Their army of rabbits were set ablaze in a second and some were crushed by Jinichi’s missile fists, but the way they all seemed to keep coming at the older sorcerers provided enough of a distraction for Naoki to rush up to the sky with Nue.

But Ogi was relentless, slashing his blade upward in an attempt to catch Nue which was when the shikigami released Naoki away from the fire with a swing of its talons - electricity coating its wings as lightning clashed against fire. Naoki flew into the air, making the hand signs for Bansho. They jumped onto the elephant’s back, letting gravity do the work as Bansho dropped right atop Jinichi - though the man was quick enough to dodge.

They dispelled Nue and Datto, grinning at Ogi whose dominant arm was limp on his side. It seemed Nue got him, but he was quick enough to drop his katana before he could get electrocuted by the metal conducting Nue’s lighting.

“Cool down, old man.”

Bansho spewed out a flood of water, dousing out Ogi’s flames as it trumpeted - lifting its forelegs up. With its trunk acting like some kind of sprinkler, Naoki rolled off its back to the ground and Jinichi was on them in an instant his Missile Fists poised to kill as they came at Naoki alongside the man himself. But Naoki had his shadow in their grasp and they tugged, making the man trip and his Missile Fists fly off trajectory.

Ogi swung his flaming blade using his non-dominant hand in an arc at Naoki and they narrowly dodged by bending backwards, but that moment cost them as they then had to roll to the side to avoid Jinichi’s off track Missile Fists.

Making the hand signs for Madoka, the towering deer emerged behind them and the positive energy it emitted turned off Ogi’s flames - reducing him to only having a regular katana blade. Naoki felt the deer’s snout rest lightly on their shoulder, healing the burns they had gained while dodging with Nue and easing the ache that was beginning to form in their muscles.

They made the hand sign for Gama and Jinichi lunged at them - but Naoki had willed the shikigami to appear from his shadow, a neat little trick they discovered while training with Getou - and the frog wrapped its tongue around the man’s ankle and hurled him into Ogi.

Jinichi slammed into Ogi, eliciting a grunt from the older man which was music to Naoki’s ears.

And because they were feeling particularly merciless today, despite the fatigue summoning so many of their shikigami today - Naoki summoned their Divine Dogs. Mochi and Mako were snarling as Naoki grinned, purposely pouring more Cursed Energy into their summoning so they were the size of horses.

“Mochi, Moka,” they called out to their dog shikigamis, “go and hunt, but don’t kill, okay?”

The dogs lunged at the two sorcerers who had only just regained their bearings, claws digging into Jinichi and Ogi’s flesh. Mochi had its maw against Jinichi’s throat, the shikigami pressing their massive weight onto the claws hooking into his chest. Naoki almost applauded the man, he took it all with a stoic frown - the only sign of his paiin the way his face paled. As for Ogi, Moka had its front hinds pressed against his back as Ogi led flat on his front. Moka’s jaw was opened, sharp teeth grazing the back of his neck.

Jinichi yielded with a graceful tap on the hard ground, but Ogi - Ogi glared up at Naoki and Naoki saw the resentment in his eyes and didn’t dare to dispel Madoka because they knew that as soon as they did, Ogi would stab into Moka and rush for Naoki again.

Some form of fatigue must’ve shown on Naoki’s face because the man’s lips curled up in a cruel smile and they knew he’d rather wait out on Naoki’s waning hold on Madoka.

Naoki was about to move to knock him out —

The man’s head, kept still in Moka’s grip, was viciously kicked - knocking the man flat unconscious.

“Dumb old man,” Naoya scoffed, “you already lost, just quit it already.”

Naoki let out an inaudible sigh of relief as they dispelled their shikigami. Their shoulders almost sagged with the weight being lifted off their shoulders, though they didn’t allow it to sag - not fully in front of everyone present. The feeling of being winded was finally hitting Naoki and they allowed themselves to breathe audibly, their chest expanding and contracting visibly. Truly, all they wanted right now was a warm bath and some food, but Naobito had insisted - directly after they were done - the crazy man.

Naoki ignored the eyes on them and retreated back to the engawa where Maki and Mai were standing, this time Mai holding out the water bottle and Maki, the towel. Maki had an expression of satisfaction on her face, smiling up at Naoki while Mai had a more tentative smile on her’s.

“You’re cool,” Maki decided.

Naoya trailed behind Naoki, staring down at their cousins from his nose. “You’re a babysitter now?” he snorted, staring at the girls with eyes that were not dissimilar to the way Naoki’s Divine Dogs stared at prey.

Maki and Mai both stiffened at the sight of Naoya, Mai’s eyes becoming downcast while Maki glared though her bottom lip quivered.

“They’re my towel girls,” Naoki repeated the excuse.

“‘Course, a girl’s only worth serving her betters.”

Naoki flung the towel in their hands, slapping Naoya in the face with a handful of cotton and sweat. “Try saying that to our mother,” they snapped, “I dare you.”

“I will,” said Naoya, eyes lit up in defiance.

Naoki snickered, shaking their head. They turned to look at Maki and Mai, who were still there and watching the entire interaction. “You should head back,” they said, softening their voice, “thank you for today.”

Mai smiled brightly while Maki nodded approvingly, before the two little girls turned on their heels and ran.

Naoki almost tripped on thin air, but Naoya’s hard grip on their elbow reminded them that he was still there. Naoya scowled, displeasure written on his face as he dropped his hand as soon as Naoki was stable.

“What flowers do you want at your funeral?” they asked him.

“Why, you gonna kill me now?”

“Nah, but okaa-sama will after you say that thing to her.”

“Please, our mother’s a lot of things - but she’s still a woman, still soft.”

Naoki stared at Naoya for a moment, at the casual air of confidence with which he declared that Zenin Yukina wouldn’t kill him for a comment out of line. Had it been Naoki - Naoki who spoke such words, they were sure they wouldn’t be alive to see the next day. But of course, Naoya was their parents’ favourite and got away with just about everything. No matter how well Naoki performed, their parents always had another hurdle for them to overcome. Naoya, on the other hand, could’ve been an ass in Projection Sorcery and he would still be lauded for inheriting their father’s technique. Naoki had no such illusions - if they didn’t have the Ten Shadows Technique then they’d be worthless in the eyes of their parents, especially their mother.

Naoki was well aware, they had been birthed for one purpose only - to secure Yukina’s position in the Zenin clan. Naoya, on the other hand, didn’t need to be born but Yukina had wanted him all the same.

Naoki left them before the shoji door which led to the Clan Head’s study, and Naoki inhaled deeply before opening the door.

Naobito was sitting there, clear eyed though with a gourd of sake beside him. Naoki’s father grinned at them and from the shadows, Yukina stepped forward. Ah, they’d have to be dealing with them both at the same time then.

Naoki bowed to their parents. “Otou-sama, Okaa-sama.”

Naobito gestured for Naoki to approach and so they did, sitting on the zabuton set up before him. Yukina was watching, half clad in the shadows and half in the light. Her brown eyes were cold as always, though it made Naoki feel warm to see a glint of pride at their appearance despite her unreadable expression.

Naobito was still grinning. “Well done, you’ve improved,” he said, “I’ll get a report from the Hei later on your overall performance, but the fact that you’re not keeled over is a good sign.”

“Thank you, otou-sama.”

“Now for your reward -”

Naoki raised a brow, Naobito must be feeling extremely generous today.

Naobito brought out a black box, with the picture of an elephant printed against the background. Okamoto Mega Big Boy - it read, with a circle around the writing XL Size 46 m/m. Naoki felt their jaw fall, looking down at the black box sitting there before them.

“Husband!” Yukina scolded, her pale face colouring an unflattering shade of scarlet at the sight of the box of condoms.

Naobito chortled, slapping his knee at Naoki’s rather undignified shocked expression. “You’re going to Kyushu, you may want to have fun with the locals!”

Yukina swiped the box away from the laughing Naobito and in a single swift movement, slid open the shoji door opening up to a garden and tossed the box there.

Chest heaving, Yukina stalked towards Naoki - bending down to sit beside them. Their sharply manicured nails gripped Naoki’s jaw, lightly pressing against their skin. “If you ever let a member near you - I brought you into this world, I can damn well take you out of it. Are we clear?” she hissed, a snarl on her pretty features.

Naoki inched their body away from her as much as they could with their face still in her iron grip. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Naobito, the bastard, was still grinning like someone high of marijuana. And as if the situation couldn't be any worse (in Yukina's mind, doubtless this was amusing to Naobito and this was mildly embarrassing to Naoki), the door slid open and Naoya stood there in all of his 14 year old glory.

“Why does Naoki get condoms and I don't?”

Like a responsible father, Naobito didn't deign to answer - instead reveling in the chaos he just unleashed as he swirled his gourd and watched as his wife stalked towards his youngest son like a panther on the hunt.

“Zenin Naoya,” Yukina hissed, Cursed Energy actually leaking out of her as the shadows around the room seemed to dance to her tune. “If I ever find out that you've stuck your sword into some silly little bint's cunt —” Yukina's dark eyes glanced down towards her son's crotch, “I will turn you into a woman.”

Naoya showed no outward reaction save for his jaw clenching and the slight leeching of colour from his face. And Naoki had to admire the utter gall in the boy when he spoke next.

“You wouldn’t - cause a girl’s only worth is serving their betters.”

Naobito choked on his drink, his honey eyes wide as he stared at Naoya. Naoki themself couldn’t resist gaping like an idiot for the second time in the day as they looked at the crazy ass brother they had the misfortune of being related to. If Yukina was merely annoyed and disgruntled before, she was enraged now. Her face scarlet not with embarrassment, but with rage. Naoki had never seen such an ugly expression on their mother’s face, she stared at Naoya as if he was nothing more than dirt beneath her shoes.

“Since you seem to know so much about women, you shall join the servants for a week, Naoya,” her voice was cold, despite the heat in her face. Yukina’s voice was akin to a sharp torrent of hale on a frigid day, biting and cutting to the bone. “No training, no sorcery, just servant’s work.”

“That’s bullshit,” Naoya was red in the face now, already humiliated simply at the prospect. “You letting her do that?” the question was directed at Naobito, who was now watching the two with an assessing gaze.

Naobito smiled, almost cruel. “Childrearing is a woman’s jurisdiction,” he said nonchalantly.

“I’m not a child!” Naoya bellowed, and Naoki was struck at how much he resembled their mother in a fit of rage. Everyone always said that Naoya looked like Naobito, but Naoki thought that he had his mother’s wrath - yet he had never worn it as well as she did.

“You are 14 years old, boy,” Naobito’s tone was derisive, in the same tone the man used to speak of non-sorcerers.

Naoki couldn’t help but think at how easy it was for their father to use their age against them. Eight years old was not too young to be inducted into the Hei, to be beaten by an uncle with too much jealousy. But now suddenly, 14 years old was still a boy. Of course, if it was Naoya - it was too young, but Naoki was always too old for ‘childish behaviour’ no matter how young they had been.

“Naoki -”

They almost flinched at the pleading in their little brother’s voice.

“Your brother’s authority as heir is superseded by my own, you brat,” Naobito barked, “your brother won’t save you, not from the consequences of disrespecting your mother.”

Naoya’s eyes still met Naoki’s own, the plea in them palpable. Naoki looked away, he looked too much like Maki and Mai - and Naoki had never been able to save them.

Had it been their fault, they wondered, they had been the one who dared Naoya to speak such words to their mother. Naoya’s getting off lightly, they couldn’t help but think. Had it been Naoki - perhaps Yukina might have thrown them into the Disciplinary Pit and Naobito would’ve looked on. If they couldn’t survive the Disciplinary Pit then they were simply unworthy in their position as the heir.

Yes, he’s getting it easy, as he always has.

So Naoki straightened their back and pretended that they didn’t see.