munificence

2007

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Satoru-kun," Their eyes widen, and they hastily correct themselves, "Gojo-dono."

It amuses her.

They extend condolences to her first instead of the grieving widow, hoping to ingratiate themselves. 

"Thank you for coming."

Her response is perfunctory and polite. She does not want to engage in conversation or invite them to discuss politics, business, or familial matters.

This is a funeral, not an occasion to further their ambitions.

The next person in line greets the widow first and coos over the toddler in her arms. He is slight, pale, dark of hair, possesses a delicate bone structure, and has silver almost grey eyes. Shades of quicksilver are a recognizable Gojo trait that occasionally appears in the auxiliary branches.

But Satoru knows him.

She knows his scent even if she doesn't recognize his face; it wraps around her and fills her with a longing she thought she left behind. It's a scent imprinted in her memory from the early days when her vision was clear, but her brain could not process what it was, and her soul was still in a deep slumber.  

His carefully curated mask of grief breaks, shards falling as he takes her in, hands clenched together as he fights the urge to reach out. He settles for a heartbreaking smile.

"Hi, Satoru."

The irony is palpable; she meets her mother at a funeral.

April 2009

Her reign began in a year of mourning; it was hardly an auspicious start, but the shift of power usually begins with the death or abdication of a ruler. 

There were surreptitious susurrations from the family, associates, family friends, and government officials. She was too young; perhaps another regent council should be erected until she reached her majority or an age where the crown would not weigh heavy.

It was an unprecedented time; the people who could have guided her had all passed within a six-month period. She should observe the mourning period and allow her elders to carry the burden until she was ready.

These are the same people who whispered insidious remarks of treason, who were discontent with the state of things under the previous Gojo clan head, these are the people who benefited from the Gojo clan's entropy, these are the same people who sought to perpetuate the old regime's structure. 

There's a reason why Satoru was not raised the same way as the previous clan head. They took a different route and sought a much subtler form of manipulation.

It didn't matter in the end; she was their reckoning.

Over a six-month period, the previous Gojo had died of heart failure; he was always sickly. Shame though, Gojo Takumi was forty-four and left behind his long-awaited heir and young wife. Councilman Higashibōjō Gin fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck; the death wasn't immediate; he was alive for hours, and no one found him. Where were his wife and children? Why was he left unaccompanied? Higashibōjō Yoshio passed away from complications of the liver and kidneys surrounded by his family and friends. Councilwoman Himatsu Ayumu suffered from a rare cancer that spread rapidly through her body; she was gone before they could seek proper treatment.

Four other superfluous deaths occurred, clan elders from the main and minor clans. 

This was the result of a silent coup d'état.

Death was a mercy, and in their ashes, Satoru rose.

There was always a keen understanding that when Satoru became clan head, things would change. That change would be abrupt; the stagnation that had plagued them would come to an end, but their values and traditions valued change implemented in small, gradual increments. Change that can be incorporated into their way of life without disrupting their normalcy and routine.

Satoru threw open the door and exposed them to the elements. 

Many did not notice, caught up in a carefully woven distraction of death and mourning, but those who did, had long since seen the symbols, the signs of the times, and the writing on the wall. They knew Gojo Satoru and took the significance of her existence seriously and saw it for what it was.

The end of their discontent and the beginning of their golden age.

When Satoru was born, her family treated her existence as more of a symbol of their diminished glory rather than what their myths and lore said of her. She was far from mistreated, but her existence should have harkened a new path, yet they clung to what bespelled their ruination.

There was a time for diplomacy and a time for action. Satoru eliminated the people that would stand in the way of her vision of the future. 

"Satoru-san?"

She'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Yessssssss?" She drags out the word and watches with interest, ready to see her ward's reaction. "What can I do for you, Megu-chan?"

Megumi gives her nothing, more focused on her request than on Satoru's usual brand of nonsense. "I need your help."

She's such a serious little girl. Discerning and intelligent, grumpy and churlish. Fate is a cruel mistress, presenting her equal as the scion of a clan that would see her shackled to an alpha of their choosing, bred and pregnant, locked away from the world, rather than let her bring them to greatness. A generation removed, a child of the abjured, female, and omega. Satoru likes to think Megumi would have thrived without her interference; she knows she would.  

"What kind of help?" 

"Tsumiki wants to swing, I'm too short to push her."

Around them are the sounds of shouting, laughter, and roughhousing. The park is alive with activity, but the girls do not stray from the other and do not engage with the other children.

The child psychologist said they developed codependency; with exposure to other children and security in their bond with their caretakers, they'll eventually grow out of it.

"What about you? Do you want to swing?"

Megumi shakes her head, "I'll wait, but if Tsumiki wants to do something else, we'll play that."

Self-sacrifice, eh? Is that what she's hearing? 

Can't have that, that will not do.

To be strong is to be greedy; to be strong is to look death in the face and laugh; to be strong, one has to be selfish.

The sisters' dynamic is unequal; that's expected. Megumi has power, but Tsumiki does not. Though Tsumiki is glib of tongue, Megumi is the might. She vehemently demanded Tsimiki's presence as a part of their bargain. In some senses, this is a Faustian deal; Satoru has to take on the burden of molding Tsimiki into an ally and a place of strength for Megumi. Should that prove futile, she will orchestrate an accident to remove the impediment, but she worries how that will impact Megumi, so another course of action has to be taken.

She will introduce the girls to her extended family and show them how the dynamics of a shaman family work. How those with power and those without still coexist, and how their surname ties them together and creates another source of power. Names are remembered, and the actions tied to them are second. Gojo Satoru is just another iteration of Six Eyes, but she will be remembered by name and actions.

She looks forward to Golden Week.

"How about this?" Satoru proposes. "If both swings are free, I'll push you both, but if one is, you will have a turn, or I won't push any of you."

Megumi mulls over her words and nods, "Okay." 

Yes, Megumi, you have to value yourself above all.