Destined or not

The airplane landed smoothly at Tokyo's Narita Airport, its passengers filtering out into the bustling terminal. Among them were two figures who moved with a quiet intensity that commanded attention. Riwaka Shikumi and Riwaka Fukazu had returned.

It had been eight long years since they left Japan. They were entrusted with an international mission to strengthen ties between the jujutsu communities of Japan and the United States. Renowned for their unparalleled strength and precision, they were legends within the jujutsu world, only second to Gojo Satoru.

Shikumi adjusted the lapel of her sleek black coat as she and her husband stepped out of the airport. They shared a glance before making their way toward Jujutsu High Tech.

The halls of Jujutsu High Tech carried the weight of tradition, each step echoing with the whispers of centuries past. Shikumi and Fukazu greeted the higher-ups with calm professionalism, exchanging formalities and updates with the stoic air of seasoned warriors. Their visit was brief—not ones for unnecessary small talk.

As they descended the steps, voices from below carried upward.

"—Shikumi, Fukazu?"

Gojo Satoru hopped up the steps with his characteristic grin plastered on his face. He'd recognized them instantly from the distinct curse energy radiating from them.

"Oh, that Gojo kid…" Fukazu muttered, glancing at Shikumi.

"Gojo Satoru, you've grown," Shikumi remarked a faint note of amusement in her otherwise stoic tone.

"You two haven't changed a bit," Gojo replied, stopping a few steps below them and placing his hands casually in his pockets. "Did you just get back? How long has it been?"

"Eight years," Fukazu nodded.

"Why are you here?" Gojo tilted his head.

"To greet the higher-ups," Shikumi sighed. 

"Those old men," Gojo laughed. "You're wasting your time with them."

Shikumi's lips twitched into the faintest smile. "You haven't changed either, huh?"

The three stood for a moment in shared familiarity, their dynamic unchanged by the passing years. But behind Shikumi and Fukazu's composed exterior was a weight—something unspoken that lingered in the air. The couple exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Gojo," Shikumi began, her voice steady but quieter than before. "There's something we need to tell you."

"Sounds serious."

"It is," Fukazu said, his tone carrying gravitas. "We have a daughter."

"Heh."

"Riwaka Aimi," he continued, his gaze dropped. "It's been eight years since we saw her."

'Riwaka Aimi.' The name hit Gojo like a spark Everything clicked in his mind at once. That explains it. They had to be referring to her.

"Well, well. Didn't see that one coming."

"No one did," Shikumi continued. "We kept her existence a secret to protect her."

"We wanted her to have a normal life, away from this world. The daughter of two of the strongest sorcerers wouldn't have been left alone," Fukazu added.

Gojo's interest was piqued, "So, why tell me now?"

"Because we're planning to tell her the truth about everything," Shikumi explained, her voice carrying an undertone of guilt. "She deserves to know. But we can't stay in Japan long, and if she decides to step into this world…"

"You want me to protect her…" Gojo hummed, "And if she decides she doesn't want anything to do with this world?" 

"Then you will leave her alone," Fukazu's tone brooked no argument. "No one else is to know of her existence, and you will not interfere with her life."

Gojo's grin returned, a flicker of mischief in his eyes. "Leave her alone? That's going to be hard." He knew full well he wasn't talking about her potential as a sorcerer.

"Don't challenge us, Gojo," Shikumi warned, her voice dropping.

"If something happens to her…" Fukazu began.

"We will end Japan," Shikumi finished, her voice cold and unwavering.

The words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Their seriousness was undeniable.

"What a threat." Gojo's grin didn't waver; he shrugged, "guessed that much."

Shikumi's gaze softened just slightly as she exchanged a glance with Fukazu. "We have nothing to live for but our precious little girl," she murmured, expression laced with hidden guilt.

The conversation ended with Gojo's nod of understanding. The two turned and descended the steps, their figures disappearing into the night.

In the taxi, they sat in silence, the tension between them palpable. They were heading "home", the place Aimi had been living all this time, waiting unknowingly. The thought of seeing her churned nauseous feelings. Even in the face of a deadly special-grade curse, they never felt this way. As sorcerers, they knew better than to let emotions take over. Stoic always.

-----------

Aimi pushed open the door to her house, her body weighed down by exhaustion from another long day. The quiet of her home promised her solitude, the one constant in her life.

But the moment she stepped inside, something felt wrong.

Her golden orbs landed on the shoe rack. Two unfamiliar pairs of shoes sat neatly beside hers. A pair of polished loafers and sleek black heels. Definitely not Gojo's, nor hers. She didn't know anyone who would visit her unannounced, let alone leave their shoes there like they belonged.

She confusingly walked further into the house. The air was off. The dining room lights were on, though she distinctly remembered turning them off before leaving. A faint murmur of emotions-invoking voices echoed and her heart began to race. 

Aimi froze upon entering the dining room.

Seated at her dining table were her parents. She recognized them immediately, the people who abandoned her. 

Her mother, Shikumi, rose to her feet the moment she saw her daughter.

Her father, Fukazu, sat with his hands folded on the table, his gaze steady but weighed down with guilt.

Aimi didn't know how to process the situation.

"Mi-chan," her mother said softly, "you're home."

"We've been waiting for you. I'm glad you're safe." Her father rose, his emotional, "Please sit down, we have something to tell you." 

For a moment, Aimi couldn't speak. Disbelief filled her wide eyes. Eight years. Eight long, agonizing years. They had vanished without a word, without an explanation. Calls had gone unanswered, and messages were ignored. They changed their numbers, leaving her utterly alone. She had forced herself to survive, to make sense of their absence, to keep living when every part of her had wanted to give up.

And now, here they are, talking and calling out to her as if nothing had happened.

"Mi-chan, take a sit," they urged.

Aimi's hands shook, an overwhelming wave of emotions surged through her. Anger, heartbreak, betrayal. Her fists clenched tightly. "Excuse me," her voice low. "What are you two doing here?" 

Her mother took a hesitant step forward. "Mi-chan, we—"

"Don't," she cut her off, voice cracking under the weight of fury. "Don't call me that. Don't act like you have the right."

Shikumi froze, her lips parting in silent protest. Fukazu stepped forward, his expression darkening with regret.

"Aimi, please listen to us talk."

"Listen? Listen to what?" her voice rose. "For eight years, I waited for you. For eight years, eight whole years I waited every, single, day hoping that you'd come back. To at least give me an explanation or anything! I thought that maybe you guys had a reason...perhaps it was because I wasn't good enough for you to stay, or something along that damn line!"

Her voice broke, and she let out a shaky breath. "I had to build my life back up. Alone. Piece by piece, crying myself to sleep every night for years, wondering what I did wrong, and why my parents didn't want me. Do you have any idea what that's like?" She shot a death glare, "Don't you dare come back here and act like nothing had happened." 

Shikumi's hands trembled as she reached for her daughter, "Mi-chan, that is not true. We did not leave because of any of those reasons...please. There was nothing wrong with you. Nothing you did wrong." Aimi stepped back, her gape sharp enough to wound.

"Of course. I was twelve. You two left me to fend for myself at twelve! And now you show up? After all this time? Why? What made you think you can just walk back into my life like nothing happened?"

There was silence. Her parents exchanged a glance.

"Aimi…You're right. We left...you, and there's nothing we can say to undo the pain we caused. But there's a reason, and we believe that we owe it to you to explain."

Aimi scoffed, "I'm surprised you two are capable of thinking at least that much." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm listening then. Speak."

They sighed and sat down, "The world you live in, this reality, the one you think you know is only part of the truth and there is another side to it, hidden from most people. The world filled with curses. They are monsters manifested from human negative emotion and there are people who fight them... sorcerers we called."

Aimi's brow furrowed, confusion momentarily overriding her anger. "What are you talking about?"

"We know it may sound shocking, because you are unable to see them, at least your ability does not allow you to." Shikumi looked up, "Aimi, your father, and I… we're sorcerers."

Aimi stared at them. It sounded ridiculous, like something out of a story.

Her mother continued, "When you were born, we realized something. You're not like us, not like anyone. You don't have cursed energy, not even a little, which is strange because everyone exerts some. Everyone, everything."

Her father added, "After some time, we concluded your soul must be what sorcerers refer to as 'pure.' It is immune to cursed energy. Any sorcery, or cursed attack that comes into contact with you is nullified...you can't see curse spirits nor be in contact with them in any way."

Shikumi nodded. "It's incredibly rare, mentioned only a few times in history. Your existence is… a unique case."

"What does that even mean?" Aimi shook her head, disbelief etched into her features. "Why are you telling me this nonsense?"

"Because," Fukazu lowered his gaze, "everyone would have hunted you if they knew about you. Sorcerers, curses, higher-ups—they would have made you a target. Your existence would have shaken the world of sorcery. We had to protect you, Mi-chan."

"By abandoning me? By leaving me alone all this time?"

"It wasn't an easy decision," her father gulped. "We thought it was safer for you to live an ordinary life away from this world…since you were young, and unlike him, you couldn't have protected yourself."

"Unlike who?"

"The strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history… Gojo Satoru." Her father replied. "His existence was like you, special. But unlike you, Gojo Satoru had the Gojo clan to protect him, and he was strong at a young age. His skills allowed for self-defense, but Mi-chan… you could still die from physical attacks."

Aimi froze, processing the name. "Gojo Satoru." So that was who he was. Her mind spiraled. 

Her mother's voice broke. "There was so much we didn't know. That was the only way we knew how to keep you safe. We're sorry Aimi."

Her father approached. "We didn't want this life for you, Mi-chan. But we couldn't ignore our duty."

"Duty," Aimi backed away. "Duty to what? All I hear are excuses from a bunch of cowards. Don't have a damn child if you can't take care of them because I did not ask for this life, or believe it or not, to be alive. You guys chose to give birth to me only to abandon me. "

"We're sorry...we are truly sorry." Shikumi let a shaky exhale.

Her father's shoulders sagged. "You're right to be angry. You have every right to hate us. But we're here now not to ask for forgiveness—we could never—but we think it's time you knew the truth."

Her mother hesitantly slid a document across the table. "and decide..."

A registration form to the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

"You have a choice," her father said. "You can become a sorcerer, or you can continue living an ordinary life, either way, Mi-chan, we respect your decision. We just think it is time we stop hiding and tell you the truth so you can choose your life path now that you are strong enough." They can tell by looking at the muscular frame beneath her clothes. Aimi had put years into training and is no doubt approaching their strength. 

Aimi stared at the paper, her hands trembling. With a burst of anger, she slammed the table and stood.

"The audacity," she scoffed helplessly. "The two of you left me for almost a decade and now returned with this bullcrap. No. Please immediately return to wherever you came from. I don't want to see either of you again." burned with anger as she stormed out of the kitchen.

"Mi-chan—"

"Please leave."

------

Aimi marched up the stairs, her steps quick and heavy. Her mind was a whirlpool of emotions. She pushed open her bedroom door, intent on finding a sliver of peace, only to stop dead in her tracks.

Gojo Satoru sat casually on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place. His trademark grin greeted her, infuriatingly.

"Yo," he drawled. "Rough night?"

Her grip on the door tightened. For a moment, she didn't speak, her golden eyes narrowing.

"How long have you been here?" she asked finally.

"Long enough," he replied with a shrug. "Your folks were loud, you know—well, so were you, but you get the point."

"Stop intruding." The tension in her shoulders refused to ease. "You shouldn't be here."

"Probably not," he admitted. "But I had a feeling, followed my gut, and dropped by. Unsurprisingly, I was correct."

Her eyes darted to the floor for a moment before she exhaled sharply and walked into the room, closing the door behind her. "What do you want?"

"Nothing, really," he said, uncrossing his legs. "Just wanted to check in on you."

Silence enveloped them for a moment before he continued, "I guess I was right to do so. Aimi-chan doesn't seem too happy." He grinned.

"Doesn't seem happy?" she echoed, setting her bag down by her desk. "That doesn't even begin to cover it."

She sat on the edge of the bed, keeping her distance from him.

"So," he began after a moment of silence, leaning forward slightly. "Your parents finally decided to clue you in, huh?"

Her jaw tightened. "I guess you already know everything," she said, looking up at the ceiling to hold back welling tears.

"Not everything," his grin softened. "But I can put two and two together."

Aimi shook her head, running a hand through her hair. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters."

"Doesn't it?"

"They abandoned me," she scoffed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They left me alone for eight years. And now they think they can just walk back into my life with… this... bullshit."

Gojo didn't interrupt, a rare seriousness in his demeanor.

"I was fine," she continued, more to herself than to him. "I was fine before they showed up. I worked hard. I survived. And now—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Why am I even saying this to you?"

"Because I'm easy to talk to," he quipped, his grin returning full force.

"And you sure as hell do not know how to read the room." She huffed and stood up.

"What's the point of reading the room when you're the strongest," he chuckled, reaching out to grab her wrist and pulling her back down.

"Leave me alone and go home," she snapped.

"I am not leaving you alone." His tone softened, carrying a subtle undertone that made her pause. "How could I leave Aimi-chan alone~"

The phrase alone caused her buried tears to rise. They scrolled down her angry face uncontrollably. Because she didn't have any cursed energy to begin with, nothing leaked from her negative emotions. Gojo didn't mind her tantrum—if anything, it was exactly what he'd expected.

"My, my..." Gojo laid down and pulled her into his embrace, cradling her in his arms.

She continued to cry for a while before speaking, "You seem comfortable with physical contact..."

"I'm experienced and a natural," he admitted.

"That makes hugging you disgusting," she sniffled.

"Come on, continue where you left off." He nudged her gently. "Speak."

She dazed her tear-filled eyes toward the window, watching the faint glow of streetlights outside.

"They gave me a choice to become a sorcerer," she said after a moment. "They think I can just jump into their world like I didn't spend the last eight years struggling to build a life away from it."

"You do not want to be a sorcerer."

"Why would I? It was for this sorcery crap that they left me, that I was all alone."

Gojo hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head as he regarded her. "That's fair."

Her head turned slightly, her gaze meeting his. "What?"

"I said it's fair," he repeated, his tone nonchalant. "You're not wrong to feel that way. But then again, everyone is alone. Everyone is lonely. No matter how many people you have around when you die, you die alone. Anything but alone is a delusion."

She blinked, caught off guard by his seriousness.

"You don't tell a 12-year-old kid that," she muttered, referring to her inner child.

"Because 12-year-old kids are dumb," he replied, rubbing her back. "You aren't, though, are you? Not anymore." 

"…"

"Your folks tried their best, trust me," Gojo exhaled. "It's just that this sorcery world is fucked up, with the higher-ups and the never-ending curses. The system itself is broken."

"Then why did they join it?" Aimi asked quietly. Her parents weren't born into it unlike Gojo.

"To do something about it, no?" he answered simply. "Sorcerers have one thing in common despite their differences: they want to make a change, and to initiate a change, everyone is forced to sacrifice something. It is only natural."

"This conversation is unexpected." Aimi felt Gojo brushing through her hair. It was more calming than she could have expected. "So you followed me this whole time because of this. You wanted me to become a sorcerer to help with some sort of vision you have in mind."

"You really are smart," he responded. "Yes." not denying it.

"…"

"Don't grow quiet on me. You like honesty, don't you? I'm completely open for you to see. I have nothing to hide."

"I do not want to see you again."

"Why? Because I have a dream, and I approached you because I wanted help with it?"

"What dream?"

"A new world," he paused. "A world where kids like you won't have to suffer because of curse-related bullshit anymore." His voice grew quieter. "I want them to be carefree and enjoy their youth."

His mind flashed to memories—of Riko dying, of Suguru Geto, of life turning upside down. Being the strongest yet powerless in the face of a broken system was infuriating.

"The higher-ups won't do shit about the system. They only look for quick fixes and don't care about anything else." His fingers continued running through her hair. "I want to change it once and for all."

Aimi stared in silence, unable to reconcile this side of him with the Gojo Satoru she knew.

"Are you trying to manipulate me?"

"I'm telling you my real intent. Whether you want to join me or not is up to you," he replied, his tone relaxed and almost teasing.

"And if I choose not to be involved, you'll leave me alone?"

"No."

"??"

"I said it. I won't leave you alone."

The words carried more weight than his casual demeanor let on. He liked her presence in ways he couldn't explain, and he wasn't about to lose it.

"You're too determined." She sat up from his embrace, attempting to wipe the last few lingering tears away, "It's suffocating."

"Is it?" he laughed softly, grabbing a tissue to help her clean up. "I'm sure my presence is quite enjoyable."

Her shoulders sagging as the tension slowly drained from her body. "I don't have the energy to fight you right now."

"Good," he said abruptly, standing and stretching. "Let's go out for a bit."

She blinked, confused. "Go where?"

"Out." He grabbed her wrist, pulling her up with ease. "You've been sulking long enough. Time to change the scenery."

"It's the middle of the night," she protested, trying to pull free.

"All the better," he said, dragging her toward the door. "Less people, more quiet. Perfect for someone who wants to be 'left alone.'"

She didn't resist too much. As they walked downstairs, she noticed her parents were gone. Her chest tightened despite having told them to leave.

Gojo noticed her hesitation and patted her head gently, his touch surprisingly comforting. Without a word, he took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers, and guided her outside.

The cool night air greeted them, the faint hum of the distant city wrapping around them. Gojo casually shoved their intertwined hands into his pocket, his silver hair glowing under the moonlight as he led the way. Aimi followed quietly.

"Where are we going?" 

"Wherever," he replied without looking back. "You've got nothing to lose, right?"

"I do have a lot to lose. You're the one who doesn't have anything to lose."

"Hahaha." 

They wandered through quiet streets, the glow of the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. Eventually, Gojo brought her to a small park, the kind she used to visit when she was younger. It was almost empty, the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of crickets the only sounds accompanying them.

He plopped himself onto a bench and tugged her down next to him. "Move closer," he nudged.

"Tsk." She muttered but scooted closer anyway.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the tension between them easing slightly as the peaceful atmosphere settled in. 

"So, just to be clear," her voice tinged with weariness, "what is it that you want me to do, Satoru? Become a sorcerer?"