munificence

January 2009

Satoru lets out an incomprehensible sound, a strange amalgamation of a groan and a long, suffering sigh filled with exasperation, resignation, and frustration.

It's a rallying cry.

Two voices echo its sentiments. One is lackluster but kindred in its weariness and disgruntlement. 

"Why is it so damn hard to find competent people?" Satoru blows her overgrown fringe out of her eyes. Who the hell recommended this haircut? Shoko? No. Mei? No? Chitose or Hiyori? Absolutely not. Oh, she remembers! Utahime. She should call her and demand recompense. She was caught in that awkward stage between short and long hair; she thought the pixie cut to bob was ugly, this stage was an equal hassle. She wanted something new and latched onto the suggestion, now she wonders if Utahime was projecting her attraction to Mei onto her. The older alpha rocked a fringe when Satoru was a freshman-

"We probably used all of our luck up. Satoru, go save a country, and we'll use whatever luck you acquire in this life instead of the next," Kiyooka Chitose proposes wryly.

"I'm sure that after a good night's rest, we'll return to the drawing board with fresh ideas and awake minds!"     

But there's always an aberration.

As per usual, Chitose is disgusted by Kiyooka Mitsugu's optimism. "Do you believe the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?" She sneers.

"Nee-san," Mitsugu says patiently, but his smile is a touch condescending. "Negative words and thoughts will not help you or anyone here, so turn that smile upside down and think positive-"

"Stop talking," she slams her hands on the table. "Stop talking right now. I'm not above kin slaying. I'll live with the dishonor and shame the family out of spite."

Satoru purses her lips and stifles her smile, but her two other cousins snicker.

Chitose's lethal glare switches to them, and they sit up, avert their gazes, and cover their mouths.

Mitsugu eyes her cautiously and slowly says, "Okay, you don't-"

"Shut up."

"Nee-san-" 

Curse energy swells, and the threat of something hellish descends upon the room.

"Okay, okay, zipping it!"

"Now," Chitose brightens, "Does anyone have anything productive to add to the conversation?"

"I have a suggestion," Gojo Keinosuke lazily raises his hand. 

"Imploring ears want to hear!" 

"You won't like it," he warns, meeting Satoru's eyes. What can be worse than the shit show she's unraveling and making efforts to rectify? She is the emperor of a broken empire; she'd be a fool not to heed advice from a trusted advisor and friend. "I think we should try a familial connection."

Satoru tenses.

These are the early days; the foundation is still shaky; the old regime's decisions still echo. Satoru wanted to rip every trace of them root and stem, but showed mercy by not killing their immediate families; instead, she stripped them of ill-begotten gains. The Higashibōjō and Himatsu faced the effects of her quiet wrath for their mere association with councilmen Higashibōjō Gin and Yoshio and councilwoman Himatsu Ayumu. 

Considering the last half century, Satoru is hesitant to trust "family" no matter how near or distant. The people in this room are the people she grew up with; she values their opinions and insight, but her trust is finite. 

"Who?"

"Gotoda Tetsuo, he's distantly related to the Maeda, a bastard child two generations back. He's curse energy sensitive, so they've kept track of him. He has two kids, and one shows promise," Keinosuke informs them. Satoru doesn't care about those details, but they are important to Gojo Hiyori; the lack of curse techniques and propensity for jujutsu in their parent's generation is concerning. No one wants a repeat of that for the next generation. "He also works for a prominent investment firm and has a glowing reputation. We lucked out with the law firm, but if Tetsuo manages the Gojo portfolio and delivers, we can consider recruiting more talented people that aren't from the main families, people overlooked and disregarded as fodder."

Satoru thinks it over; there are more cons than pros. She needs to see his credentials, his work portfolio, who he associates with, where his loyalties lie..."Contact him and set up a meeting; if it's promising, we'll conduct a probationary period."

Satoru sits on a fortune amassed by greed, blackmail, fraud, and exploitation. She has returned what was stolen with interest and is now left with the rest untouched. Money isn't the issue; it's the longevity of it. The stagnation of the last fifty years has left the Gojo at a disadvantage, and Satoru has to fix it.

Keinosuke nods, "Another step in the right direction."

"Hopefully," Satoru says mirthlessly.