Chapter Text
Preface.
I wish to preface this account by stating that I am not a writer by trade. Nor a poet and hardly a scholar by any definition, no matter how far one wishes to stretch it. The desire to write this is twofold. I am sure that my elders would appreciate a documented report written in a timely manner upon my return. And if I should fail to do so, then perhaps what I had written so far by the time my charred or serrated body is found could be of some use. Though, I suppose, if my body were to be consumed by accursed fire, these writings may not survive the ordeal.
I will invest in a more durable case to house them before we reach the estate of the King of Curses.
Said estate is the harrowing destination of my undesired journey. However, it was at the behest of my father, my elder brothers, and many others that I saw this appointed task through. Inquiry by written request has gotten our clan nowhere in ascertaining how Ryomen Sukuna had found a way to muddle the affairs of our bloodline. The Blood Manipulation technique has been, allegedly, stolen, with the proof lying in the conception of his second son. The unnamed Prince, a master in the art, rarely appeared at the King’s side. He is the apparent elder, yet has not been named Ryomen Sukuna’s heir. Blatant favoritism lends well to the reason why. Inheriting the Cursed Technique of one’s father, especially one so formidable, was the ideal scenario for a sorcerer child— A curse child.
Were they truly inhuman?
I do hope not, but I know better than to wish for miracles. It was why I bit my tongue every time the urge to fabricate possible reasons for a swift turnaround back home.
I.
I overheard the servants gossiping behind their sleeves while I prepared for my departure.
“The young master is being thrown to the wolves!”
It was an idiom that became all the more apt the moment I approached the estate’s main gate and caught sight of the very literal wolf stalking the forest’s edge. The wolves of metaphor waited by the road’s end, all too aware of our approach by horseback. I suspect that the barrier surrounding the area may have notified the one who constructed it. My guard suggests that their awareness stretched further back, pointing at a bird far too high in the sky to identify.
My early morning arrival was greeted by the very princes I had come to investigate. The younger waved his hand, full of uncanny excitement, while the elder kept his arms crossed and expression muted, almost apathetic. We sent one more missive ahead of time to beseech the estate for this meeting and possibly lodging for the evening to come. The lack of dismissal had brought hope, but for these two to answer our plea personally before we could even walk the steps of the central hall felt odd. Nonetheless, introductions were in order.
“I am a representative of the Kamo clan, behind my brother and our eldest brother as heir. I have come to seek an audience with the King of Curses concerning the blood ties his children may share with my clan.” I had gotten off my horse to bow my head. Appearing above, my hosts would have been given the wrong impression. Mentioning the clan hadn’t caused a visible reaction between the two princes, which I had taken as a good sign.
Then again, the younger prince may have only been half-listening. His eyes had been drawn to the horses we had arrived on, leaving his older brother to carry a more scrutinous gaze. Neither of them appeared to be the monstrous spawn described in rumor. The marking across the older prince’s face and the scars the young bore were certainly eye-catching, but they were on the same level as their father’s towering, multi-limbed figure.
“And they only sent you with one guard?” He reached out for my mare’s head. Initially, the fear of him striking her down had caused my blood to freeze, but in truth, his touch was hesitant and gentle. The desire to touch her face and brush her mane was evident, yet my mare huffed and snorted rather indignantly to stop him.
Fortunately, no offense was taken.
“It was all that was deemed necessary, Prince. This is a diplomatic visit. If you would indulge our persistence—”
“I kind of figured that out.” The younger prince interrupted me with a sheepish yawn. I do not believe it was intentional, but I cannot say for certain. What I do know is that he is missing a finger on one hand. I dare not ask how that came to be. “No offense, but neither of you look prepared for a fight. Or willing.”
It was here that I noticed he spoke with an odd accent. Elements of the region he lived within were expected—I had plenty of experience passing through the settlements to get here. However, there were other shifts in pitch or pauses that came before self-correction that I couldn’t help but focus on. Some of it could be blamed on a nervous response. I do not think that was the case.
“It would not be wise for the third son of the Kamo clan to declare war without my elder’s consent.”
“Meanwhile, my father is probably waiting for me to start one.” The laughter that followed did not quell the anxiety such a statement produced. I do not believe I maintained a believable expression of humor to match the younger prince. The silence that came after lasted a bit longer than either of us wished. When it became too much, he took the initiative to see conversation pick up once more. “Does the Third Son have a name? I’m not interested in answering to titles if I can help it.”
Informality in both directions was a rather presumptuous request.
I was not in a position to argue.
“Kamo no Heisaburo Masasuke.” I watched the younger prince’s wide eyes blink. He appeared confused or perhaps overwhelmed. It was not the longest by any means, but perhaps he was working to figure out which piece of the name to use. Simply using my clan’s name would have been enough.
“Masasuke, eh?” But no, he had to be different. He ignored the ties of my clan completely. “You can just call me Itadori. It works for me, but that is at Uraume-san’s request. I’ll get in trouble if I keep insisting on my given name…”
Itadori—I will continue to refer to him as this per his request—muttered more to himself as his voice faded out. His attention moved elsewhere, and my ears only caught a little bit as he tested a series of words. “Ryomen no Itadori… Yuji? I don’t think that is right…”
He laughed aloud again, amused by his own thoughts. Without saying another word, I was ushered inside.
Ryomen Sukuna’s estate was not the den of depravity that I was led to believe.
No bodies hung from the trees, nor were the buildings painted with blood. The only smells that greeted me were the distinct notes of autumn. As for the general size and layout, well, it was no palace, but it was no squalid shack reduced to its bare frames. The new master of the estate had taken great care of the property he’d gained as a spoil of war. If there were flaws to be found, the younger prince held no shame in pointing them out, often pairing each broken screen, chipped roof, or uprooted path with a story involving some altercation. The only section of the estate that remained untouched was the pond and the gardens. Leaves littered what lay beyond the main paths, expected to be cleared later that morning.
I had not caught sight of any servants by this point. Nor would I learn of any beyond the one who stood by the Calamity’s side. Did they bear the sole responsibility for keeping this place well-kept? The question had almost escaped my mouth by the time our paths crossed; thankfully, I bit down my tongue.
My first impressions are… mixed. Fact and fiction are often intertwined. I am well aware of this. Yet, it did nothing to prepare me for how strange the young prince, the feared Second Calamity, was in person compared to supposed anecdotes from those who gazed upon him in their travels.
Itadori is a very friendly individual. He smiles fairly often with eyes that shine far too bright. They carry curiosity and excitement that I rarely encounter, leaving me, admittedly, mesmerized. I do not understand how someone who lived in a world so harsh that it left permanent marks on his body would face the world as he does. Despite all that, I can’t help but acknowledge the fear still prevalent in my heart. I dislike how dormant it became after a brief share of words. There are those who are friendly and others who are too friendly, and the inability to ascertain which one was he honestly scares me.
As for the elder brother, I cannot say much. He appears to be a reserved individual. His eyes always find their way back to Itadori, ever vigilant, with no chance of sharing what thoughts lie beyond them. I suppose that there is a reason that the younger prince has upstaged him in passing news and exaggerated gossip. Regardless, his lack of initiative and demand for attention does not equate itself being easily dismissed. My guard shall remain up at all times.
II.
“Is… your father joining us?”
“No,” Itadori answered as he took the place of where the head of the estate was expected to sit. “My father left this for us to handle since it is more our business than his.”
Internally, I begged to differ. It was his father who bedded a woman of the Kamo clan lineage and that put it in the politest of terms. Many of my relatives sought to paint the act in a worse light, but I have withheld making such claims. The superiority they gained from speaking so poorly was tasteless and hypocritical, though I will refrain from elaborating.
“My young master is more than capable of handling your incessant pestering swiftly.” The servant— Uraume —spoke with a piercing gaze that sent a shiver down my spine. There was an underlying threat as the room got colder. Would I rather be sitting here with the King of Curses present? Absolutely not.
“I did not intend to offend! By no means was I questioning your capabilities.”
“Relax. I believe you.” My more vocal host waved off what Uraume had implied as he leaned into his palm. He sat quite informally, with legs crossed and back leaning forward. His older brother did not sit but stood off to the side.
“Thank you. I am attempting to understand where you both belong in the registry. We have no records of women who were unaccounted for within the possible dates of your… for lack of a better term, conception but those could always be amended. The same can be held true for possible names that were stricken from our records in secret.”
“I guess the first thing to address is our parentage. Choso and I are… half-brothers. We share the same… father, not mother.”
“I see.” Half-brothers. Hardly uncommon, considering the relation I share with my own siblings. I do not know why the news came as a surprise, but that could explain the stark contrast in appearance and why one inherited their father’s technique, and the other did not. The pauses had found their way into the younger prince’s sentences again. It would seem that this subject was not a particularly kind one.
“My mother passed away when I was young.” The older prince explained. “I do not know enough about her or her immediate family to assist you. Even the place of my birth is…” A complicated and unknown affair. I would not force him to speak what was already obvious. Although, that made my job all the more difficult.
“I am sorry for your loss.” That was all I could say in response. Unprepared for the dejected look on Choso’s face, I felt the same somber feeling grip my heart. “I do not know how I would handle mourning should my own mother pass.”
“I am still understanding the process myself. Time offers reflection, but I find experience continues to shape my point of view.”
“I kinda get what you mean. After losing my grandfather, it’s really taken a lot of things for me to appreciate what I’m missing. All I have left are words he parted with.” Itadori spoke fondly in his melancholy. It made the following tone shift all the more jarring. “Well, at least when my mother kicks it again, we can celebrate.”
Celebrate? Again? I must have misheard. Perhaps he meant the anniversary of her death, though that did not make the thought of celebrating the event any less morbid. For his comment to hold not a single brush of remorse… I shudder to imagine what kind of person she must be. How does he compare his mother to his father?
The news of her… death dashed away all rumors of who among the living may be responsible for his creation. This includes the odd, pointed finger toward the servant standing in this very room. I will be honest, I am unsure if they are even capable of performing that particular duty, and I will not be the one to ask.
Instead, my remaining inquiries sought to narrow down information regarding Choso’s mother. Any vague memory of culture or flora from the region she hailed from, anything that could be identifiable, and yet I received very little after all was said and done. He was willing to answer each question. Each response was short, immediate, and without a second thought. I wish to think he was sincere in his responses. The problem was that returning home with so little would not please my elders one bit.
“We’re all around the same… not age, generation? Maybe? We don’t look that far apart in age.” Itadori gripped his chin, humming a bit as he looked between both myself and his older brother. “We could just say we’re cousins.”
That was hardly a sufficient answer. I did not argue against it, as the specific denotation of cousin versus uncle or nephew did not matter when Itadori was involved. He was not related by blood. That did not stop him from proclaiming close ties with his elder brother, who accepted it as if it were fact. Am I truly allowed to call them family? Even if their relation was proven, the chances of it being a distant relation were relatively high, yet neither of them seemed to care. The lack of immediate response brought anger in their servant, a visible annoyance that had my mind hurrying through its thoughts and acceptance before tossing aside all greater political implications for the time being.
“If cousins are as close as we can get to solving this conundrum, then cousins we shall be.”
I do not know how my elders will take the news, but my hosts were content. For the sake of remaining intact, I may as well attempt to feel the same.
III.
The success, or rather, agreed lack of success, left the remainder of the day to be spent in relative ease. My request for lodging was granted, as was time to myself before I must appear before the household for our evening meal. One that I dread, knowing who will be there. Attempting to relax within my room failed to bring peace of mind. My guard is not one for conversation. We barely spoke before this trip, with all conversation focused on completing my task and little beyond it. Being at a distance from the King of Curses, whether in our sight or not, that could bring our demise without notice did not change that.
Thus, I found myself writing my thoughts while sitting on the engawa just beyond my room. This seating offered me the perfect view to observe the inner courtyard and the dynamics unfolding within. True to his word, the remaining leaves were being taken care of. Not by any servant—Much to Uraume’s distress as they begged and pleaded with their young master to stop doing the work himself. A push and pull of reversed roles that had captured my attention.
“Uraume-san, I can do this!”
“You must not! Young master, there are guests!”
“But I have to! It is a very important ritual, and you can’t keep interrupting it.”
Said ritual was the act of piling the leaves all in one spot. He did not elaborate on the reason just yet, as he did not have the chance with Uraume throwing their head back and storming off. They only stopped their apparent mumbling when another young man stepped into the courtyard. Not too long after, I learned to address him as Fushiguro, and it would seem he was another sorcerer and close acquaintance of Itadori taking residence within the estate. He listened as Uraume muttered something to him, earning a short response and a shake of the head before confronting Itadori over what he was up to.
“Since when did this become a ritual?”
“Always.” Itadori would not back down in his absurd stance. “You can’t welcome autumn properly without making piles of leaves to jump into. It is bad luck.”
“When did luck have anything to do with it?” Fushiguro then asked something else in a strange jumble of sounds meant to be words. It took an awful amount of time to process what came next as an exchange in another language. One that left both myself and the younger prince aghast for entirely different reasons.
Just as Itadori stepped back and prepared his charge, the white wolf guarding the grounds barreled toward him. The sudden arrival created a distraction. A distraction the beast used to brush past his master and lunge into the pile of foliage debris himself.
What a strange… everything. The younger prince was known to be eccentric, as no sane individual would get purposefully swallowed by a Cursed Spirit. This behavior may very well fall in line with that, but as his servant warned, there were guests that had lips to speak with. Not that I would be one of them. If anything, I may relent how much fun this juvenile game of his appeared.
As I pondered on what I was missing, the older prince walked by, happily shaking his head at the scene. There was still so much more I wished to ask him that my curiosity thrust me to my feet, and opened my mouth before I had a chance to determine exactly what I would ask.
“Excuse me!” I beckoned for a conversation I was not prepared to engage in. Nonetheless, Choso humored the rather inappropriate question to start things off. My impulsivity is obvious in hindsight. “I was… I find it strange that you, being the eldest, are not spoken of as often. You follow your younger brother, who is your father’s heir. I find it difficult to grasp the lack of animosity. If the positions were reversed among my own brothers, I would be detested.”
I feared the silence that followed. As it would turn, it was not a prelude to a scolding or a dismissive sneer for speaking out of turn. Choso had simply needed time to think. He spoke much slower than Itadori. And in a way, the few sentences he spoke felt heavier when written than when I heard them aloud.
“That is… saddening to hear.” The older prince, of all people, offered sympathy. “I love my younger brother. I am his older brother, and it is my job to ensure his happiness and prosperity. The role of heir… I loathe the burdens that come with it. My younger brother suffers because of it. But it is not something that can be changed, so I follow closely and hope that my wishes offset our father’s.”
“I can see how the pressure would be burdensome with Ryomen Sukuna as a father. I would not covet that position either.” After that comment, I bowed my head. “I apologize for prying.”
“It is alright. I can see that you are searching for common ground.” Just as forgiving as his brother, Choso sighed. “Perhaps not in the best way.”
“You are not wrong. If I could try again, may I?”
“You may.”
With my second chance, I decided to turn to the subject of Blood Manipulation. The Cursed Technique was the most well-known from the Kamo clan and to find another who wielded it so fluidly without training from within was unheard of until now. Learning that Choso was self-taught had honestly taken me by surprise. Innate talent superseded all else. A true savant, proving as such by how easily he could manipulate his own blood to slice through a nearby stone without much more than the flick of his finger. Showcasing Flowing Red Scale was more than enough to believe he was capable of far more, given the aura surrounding him, though there wasn’t much reason beyond advocating for a fight to witness such moves in action.
A suitable sparring partner, I was not.
“Do you possess the technique?”
“It would be shameful if I didn’t.”
I knew it would be a mistake to demonstrate my own abilities, but in an effort to return the favor, I persisted. The fault was mine in what came next. I have not yet learned how to utilize Flowing Red Scale. All I could do was bite my thumb and find a target to shoot my own arrow of blood at. A short and straightforward demonstration should not have been too risky. The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to the sky above while my body limp on the ground. Choso’s hands were propping my swirling head up, and by this point, both Itadori and Fushiguro were standing over me with concern.
This was not the first time this had happened. Nor would it be the last. I explained as such, admitting my shortcomings, which led me to be sent into Ryomen Sukuna’s domain instead of my elders. Worse still, it did not stop when deactivating my Cursed Technique, often leaving me under the influence of vertigo or with dull, persistent aches in my head.
Anemia.
That was the word I had learned after this poor attempt at demonstration. Fushiguro was the first one to suggest it, followed by a brief exchange between the three in that odd language of theirs before a sense of relief washed over Itadori’s face.
“That would explain why you’re so pale.” Itadori offered his hand to assist in getting me off the ground. “Fushiguro says that if you can add more iron in your diet, you should be able to suppress some of those symptoms.”
“You want me to consume metal?”
“Foods that already contain it. Here, we’ll write you a list.”
He was not expecting me to consume raw iron, claiming that fish, poultry, dark green leafy vegetables, and certain dried fruits would be a great starting point in alleviating my pain. The meat recommendations held most of my skepticism, consideringthe recent decree, but I heard of a few people earning exemptions for similar medical purposes. If I could convince my father of this, then perhaps I could carry out this suggested diet, though I would need to experience results with the other foods on this strange list before diving further.
“Flowing Red Scale…” Choso mused as his younger brother ran off for paper and something to write with. “Its properties should assist in helping your body stabilize.”
“I do not know it. I have not been taught nor given access to read…”
“I am a poor teacher, but if you are patient with me, I could try to be of use.”
Patient with him? I had stuttered quite a bit at the offer. When I was younger, it was I who would beg others for their time, begging for their patience as long as I could be offered a chance to learn and grow as developing sorcerers my age. I had long accepted the lack of faith my clan held for me to succeed in sorcery. I had given up chasing after my peers.
Now, for some reason, I wanted to give chase again.
IV.
Both my guard and I were invited to join the King of Curses and his sons for that evening’s meal. It was not the cannibalistic feast many proclaimed Ryomen Sukuna took part in. There were no mangled corpses on display in the center of the room to pick from and no visible sign that the master of the house was eating anything remotely human in nature. He ate the same salted fish as the rest of us, though far more in quantity. The dietary suggestions mentioned before were found in our meal, something no one seemed to complain about.
The mysterious sorcerer friend of Itadori’s had already taken his seat beside Choso when I arrived. Uraume would eventually sit with us as well after serving our food. They sat between me and the master of the estate, who I finally saw with my own eyes and survived to write about in this very instance.
Ryomen Sukuna is truly a giant among men. A formidable foe, with an oppressive air that could be felt by all save for the two sitting closest by his side. While many features of his have been exaggerated, such as the possessive of two distinct heads or enlarged tusks and a long, drooling tongue, the King of Curses truly had a second mouth on his stomach capable of consuming a single man whole should he wish it. His four eyes permitted a wider range of view, seemingly able to split attention between multiple targets as I felt his scrutinous gaze hovering over me the entire meal.
I cannot truly express how my body failed to coordinate itself for most of the evening. A cold sweat continued to drip down the back of my neck, and my very bones felt as if they were being gnawed on, and my muscles stretched beyond belief until they were nothing more than dead weight. All creations of my own fearful mind. My inability to remain steady only got worse as the Calamity himself began to speak, addressing the room in a half-assed manner before berating Itadori for how simple our exchange was. First, it was how the younger prince failed to put a price on the information provided. It would obviously be worth something if the Kamo clan were to go as far as to send one of their own to retrieve it, and I agreed with this. It did not help that my presence within this place, a member of the clans who so starkly opposed Ryomen Sukuna at every turn, was an offending one.
“And now you call that intrusive brat your cousin?”
“Is there a problem with that, father?” Little hesitation could be found in Itadori’s voice. True to rumor, he did not bow and accept his place so easily. If these two were to clash, all I could do was sit there and pray not to be caught in the crossfire.
“Where do I begin?”
“As I recall, you told me to ‘handle this nonsense’ as I pleased. A gift and honor that I have taken very seriously. And now you sit there and whine that I am doing it wrong?” His tone fell into mocking territory. Purposefully raised to sound affluent and haughty, it did not fit him at all and everyone knew it. Worse still, the younger prince rose from his seat and stood before his father without a modicum of respect. “I know how you would have dealt with this, but I am not you. We both know that.”
I had expected to find the boy’s corpse lying on the floor moments later. Proven wrong by this father’s scoff, I continued to stare while frozen in place.
“And I lament that fact every day.” The truth or a mild jest? I could not tell you. What I can say is that the King of Curses then grabbed his son’s arm and dragged him back to his seat. While he appeared forceful, the lenient he granted Itadori was obvious. Dismissing him in such a manner… It was not the end of the conversation. Focus now shifted onto me as I was addressed directly. “You, Kamo brat. Understand that this newly declared relation between yourself and my ‘sons’ does not change my utter disdain for the sorcerer clans you hail from. There is no advantage to be gained from leveraging this, and if anyone is caught attempting to do so, I will be the first to denounce them.”
Ryomen Sukuna glanced at the two brothers, showing minute signs of wanting to say more. He permitted his continued displeasure to speak for him and scoffed again before returning to his meal. It would seem that he does not show much care for his eldest, considering how much he stressed his referral to both. This same lack of care was reciprocated in the absence of response Choso gave. He did not seem to sway in either direction of being acknowledged or not, whereas his little brother was more than willing to scoot closer to him in a display of solidarity.
Being that favored son had not bred a sense of superiority.
“Of course. I will make sure to relay that message with the utmost clarity.” I attempted to smooth things over. Not well, but I had hoped I could restore enough goodwill to choke down the rest of my meal lest I add further insult by not finishing. “I cannot say for certain how my elders will react to the news, but I hope that we can remain amicable for a while longer.”
“I like this cousin a lot.” Itadori made it clear to emphasize his use of ‘cousin.’ He spoke it quite often, like a child who learned a new word. “We should find a way to keep in touch after you leave. And maybe you can visit again while my father is elsewhere. We’ll plan it so he doesn’t know about it.”
Itadori was bold in his laugh, acting as if the very subject of his amusement was not sitting right there beside him. He would not receive immediate discipline for this. Instead, his words turned the air both brittle and acidic.
“Once this worthless affair is over, you will regret every word spoken here tonight. Your youth betrays you, brat, and out of pity, I will state the same for the Kamo brat over there. There will be no amicable ties between our families. What exists now is not peace but a pause between battles that have yet to be waged. He could ask any one of his elders, and they would all say the same. And unlike I, they would not have humored your stay should your roles be reversed.” Once again, the King of Curses gazed down at me with more than one eye, daring me to object through my petty constitution. “Speak up if I am wrong.”
Shamefully, I remained silent after that.
Itadori did as well, now facing his lap while keeping his bundled fists under control. He appeared prepared to object, continuing the argument further, but turned to aggressively eating instead. Fushiguro had been ready to console him in some regard. His hand had been out, yet his actions remained unfulfilled. He was a guest as well, thus, siding with the younger prince may worsen his standing.
The rest of the meal was uneventful. I returned to my quarters after all were dismissed, save for the younger prince, who would spend what remained of the evening with his father. I could barely make out the sound of bickering through the halls, cursed energy flaring on occasion as if to threaten a fight that never came, all thanks to the arrival of that ice-cold servant whose presence managed to douse their flames. Or it could have been the tea I had caught them carrying their way to keep their mouths busy…
V.
I could hardly sleep, not for lack of comfortable accommodations, but in anticipation of many assorting things that culminated in my departure back home. Insomnia was not a new experience. Rarely was it something I could quell on my own, often requiring late-night walks, which I had learned to time for the patrols of the estate guards back home years ago. I could not pull the same tactics here as I did there. Arousing suspicion in my hosts would only be the least of my worries. Pulling the screens to my quarters aside to few the garden from inside, however, I had thought that to be the perfect compromise.
The breeze was warmer than expected. Almost serene, given current company. It had taken some time to realize that the break in nighttime silence was not the nocturnal bird chirping or an insect buzzing about but the sound of humming to an unfamiliar tune. Was someone patrolling the area? My immediate fear of getting caught led me to fall back inside, only to trip over my robes and catch the peculiar sight of someone sitting on the nearby roof. Based on the silhouette, I thought it to be the younger prince— I was correct.
Outlined by the moon sat Itadori, watching the stars overhead, lounging without much thought and with an odd rhythm in his heart. Staring was starting to become a habit, one I got caught in after stepping closer to confirm the surreal situation I was in.
I received a sheepish wave. Then, Itadori appeared to be pointing at something beside or below him. A bit of hesitant walking to alter my angle of view helped me understand his intentions. What he was gesturing toward was a nearby tree. This was an invitation to climb up and join him. As absurd as it was, I did not wish to be impolite, nor could I quickly turn back inside and rest my head to avoid thinking about it further. Against better judgment, I found myself sitting on the roof of the estate’s shinden all thanks to Itadori catching my hand at the last minute, or else I would have fallen into the foliage below.
“Is this— Are we allowed to be up here?” I kept my voice as low as I could.
“Nope!” Itadori did not have to answer as matter-of-factly as he did. “Not even Uraume knows I come up here, and they seem to know everything.”
I prayed that it would remain that way until after my departure.
What followed was a discussion of the constellations with many I had never heard before. A discussion might be a bit too presumptuous since Itadori did most of the talking, and I nodded along as I attempted to follow his ever-shifting trail of thought the best I could. Unsure of how to engage, my questions remained shallow as I attempted to learn what I could without appearing as if there were ulterior motives involved. I learned that the younger prince was a very considerate person. He spoke of Fushiguro often, alluding to a history of which I seem to lack with another to draw a comparison. Uraume and his older brother continuously weaved in and out of his stories, and as for his father…
“Sukuna thinks that I’m an idiot.” Itadori now rested on his back. Arms crossed behind his head in a position I attempted to imitate to mild success. “A fool. I’m sure, in most cases, he’s probably right. He knows this world more than I do, and I’m really trying.”
Isolation often brought out naivety to what lay beyond. I would not call it a fault of Itadori’s, but something to be appropriately wary of. In a sense, this reminder of the younger prince’s upbringing almost made his father’s cruel words a protective gesture. Caution where his son had none.
“I still want to believe that things could be better. I’m not… I don’t fight for the sake of it. I will fight if I have to, but if I can keep enjoying quiet nights like this without taking them away from someone else, I will find a way to make that happen.”
That kind of sentiment was one I could agree with.
I never thought it would pain me that my clan held no favorable views toward Ryomen Sukuna and his kin. I doubt what news I will bring home will change any of that. Even if I were to offer tales of the younger prince, his optimistic view on what our future could hold… I am not my father’s heir, nor a daughter he could marry off to inherit further influence, which left my opinion with very little sway, if there is any at all.
“It may not mean much, coming from a Kamo,” I had tucked my hands in my lap upon sitting up, wishing to address the young prince while facing him properly. “But I do hope you can succeed with your way of thinking. From my understanding, it’s quite rare. I think that makes it all the more enticing.”
“Until you prove yourself to be the bastard my father believes, I prefer my view of you a whole lot more.”
“And what is that?” A bit of dread crept in, and I would soon learn that it was not needed.
“You remind me of someone I know.” Itadori began a bit unexpectedly. “All calm and stoic—You’re more jumpy than he is, but you both got a lot going on inside. A lot of pressure on your backs. Elders to please. Yet, he really just wanted to do some good in the world. We bonded over that. Sometimes… I wish I could have said more to him before all this.”
Before… Before he was taken in by his father? His age did not match the timeline his father claimed him to be hidden away in this estate all his life. If he had been with his mother before, for better or for worse, then that would also explain some of his oddities in speech and mannerisms.
“It is flattering for you, Prince, to think so highly of me.” I would not let such things go to my head. It would not be wise. But I could not hold my tongue, fearing for how easily this had all come about. He sounded so genuine… “A bit wishful.”
“Eh, It’s my wish to make—” Without warning, Itadori paused, only to throw a pointed finger to the air to ensure my eyes followed after it. “Whoah, check it out. A shooting star!”
Hastily, Itadori slapped his hands over his mouth, fearing that his shouting would get them caught. He was not the only one, as his excitement was terribly contagious.
This may seem odd, but at this moment, I did not find myself as willing to return home as I was before.