8

"Stay still."

Shiki patiently remains unmoving, back pressed against the wall behind her. Her gaze is steady as she surveys Kiyohira-sensei standing before her. The man's eyes are narrowed in concentration as he raises the short knife in his hand. It's an almost comical sight, the stark visual contrast of such a large man brandishing such a tiny blade.

Kiyohira-sensei reaches forward. The knife blade barely grazes the top of Shiki's head.

"… Alright, you can move aside now."

Shiki ducks under his arm and circles around him, peering up at her teacher and caretaker curiously. "May I ask what you're doing?"

Kiyohira-sensei grunts, but does not say anything. Shiki is left to look on in confusion as the man proceeds to carve a string of random numbers right above the deep groove he'd cut into the wooden post of the wall, where she had just been standing.

… No, wait, that's not random numbers. That's today's date, isn't it? Why is Kiyohira-sensei carving the date into the wooden frame?

"Kiyohira-sensei?" Shiki tries to get the man's attention, poking at the back of his leg for good measure.

"Don't worry about it," is all he says gruffly, batting her hand aside. Then Kiyohira-sensei turns around and firmly ushers her along, heedless of her confusion. He coughs, clearing his throat, "Just testing to see if the blade was still sharp."

"… I see?" Shiki tries not to make her response sound like a question, although she doesn't think that she's doing a very good job of it. She doesn't really understand. If Kiyohira-sensei wanted to test the sharpness of his knife, couldn't he have chosen to cut something other than one of the wooden frames of the house? It wasn't like they had any shortage of training posts lying around. Shiki doesn't really understand what he's thinking–

"Come along, we really do need to get moving now," Kiyohira-sensei beckons Shiki, a touch impatient when she is slow to follow. "Daisaku-sama is probably going to find some way to make our lives miserable if we make him wait any longer."

Shiki blinks, attention diverted away from her earlier line of thought as she refocuses on what Kiyohira-sensei is saying.

"Daisaku-sama will be there?"

"Of course he'll be," the large man makes a face. "It's the first time that your abilities will be tested out on a Special Grade Curse, after all."

Shiki tilts her head at the particular inflection to those words. "Is that really such a big deal?"

Kiyohira-sensei side-eyes her. "… I keep forgetting that you don't have a proper background. Yes, Special Grades are a big deal, kid. Thousands of different curses exist in this world; only fourteen of them are officially registered as Special Grade."

Well, that certainly puts things into perspective.

"Although, technically it would be more accurate to say that your abilities will be tested out on a Special Grade Cursed Object today, rather than a Special Grade Curse," the man clarifies. Shiki jogs a few steps to catch up with Kiyohira-sensei's long strides, and he pauses momentarily before continuing, "Did Jihei tell you which cursed object they'll be using?"

Shiki shakes her head.

Kiyohira-sensei sighs. "It's one of Sukuna's fingers. I'm guessing you don't know who Sukuna is, either?"

The name… isn't exactly familiar to her, but she does have some recollection of it. Shiki thinks back to the numerous scrolls assigned as reading by her tutors. "… Ryomen Sukuna, imaginary demon?"

"Ha! Nothing about him is imaginary, girl," Kiyohira-sensei barks out a short, sharp laugh. "But yes, you're not wrong. So you've covered that in your lessons, hm?"

Shiki shrugs.

"Eloquent. Well," Kiyohira-sensei waves his hand. "I'll spare you the history and details. Just know that even though we'll have containment barriers in place, it's still an incredibly dangerous cursed object. Since it's been sealed, it'll be mostly harmless on its own –which is why Daisaku-sama and the others think it will be a good test for you."

The two of them eventually come to a stop in front of an unassuming building. But before Kiyohira-sensei even raises a hand to knock, the paper doors automatically slide open on their own.

… Well, not on their own, as it turns out. Shiki glances down at the edge of the bamboo frames, only to see small cutouts of paper shikigami quietly pushing open the doors for them.

Kiyohira-sensei steps inside, wholly ignoring the animated paper cutouts that turn and bow respectfully to him. "Hurry up, we haven't got all day."

"Yes, Kiyohira-sensei." With one last glance towards the oddly-cute paper shikigami, Shiki follows after her teacher.

To date, the Gojo Clan has done several different tests on Shiki's abilities. Curses, cursed objects, cursed tools. Can you see the lines on these? Can you cut the lines for that?

The answer has always been the same:

Yes.

… As Kiyohira-sensei had not-so-subtly implied earlier, Daisaku-sama is present in the room today. It's been awhile since Shiki has last seen the elder –not since the day that Satoru-oniichan tore down the house and sent Kiyohira-sensei to the healers, in fact. Shiki says her greetings and bows politely, and Daisaku-sama nods towards her with a slight smile.

"Take your time, child," he tells her.

At his cue, one of the servants steps forward with a polished tray, upon which rests a rectangular box. The young man bows and offers it to Shiki. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly special about the box in terms of its outward appearance, yet the lacquered wood is oddly heavy in her hands.

"Fear not," Daisaku-sama inclines his head. "This room has been properly sealed and warded to contain a Special Grade Cursed Object."

… Yes, Shiki can certainly see that, given that the room is covered in strange talismans over every inch of its surface. It's quite unlike the level of preparation she's had for any of her other tests before.

Special Grade Cursed Object.

Shiki lifts the lid off the box.

The first thing that registers to her is the cursed energy. Not even the First Grade Curse that she'd been tested with last week had felt like anything remotely similar to this. It's not just the level of cursed energy, but also the feeling of it. Something heavy, sinking. Insidious. Shiki almost expects to see curses crawling out of the woodwork as soon as the cursed object is exposed to the open air, but there's nothing of the sort. For one –this is the middle of the Gojo compound. Not to mention, the countless seals and talismans protecting the room.

Red lines glow faintly over the aged cloth wrappings coiled tightly around the cursed object. Without any prompting, Shiki begins unraveling the seals. And at the end of it–

The cursed object is a gnarled finger with a wickedly sharp nail. Its texture is coarse, hard. Grave wax. Shiki is holding a finger in the palm of her hand.

… She detachedly wonders what it says about the sort of training that the Gojo Clan has put her through, that she has no particular reaction to holding a dismembered human finger like this. Then again, with the sheer amount of cursed energy radiating from it, it's hard to view it more as an actual body part than the cursed object it really is.

A finger. A cursed object. Sukuna's finger, Kiyohira-sensei had called it.

Shiki looks at the cursed object. Unblemished, unmarred.

It's… just a finger.

"Well?" Daisaku-sama's voice breaks into her thoughts. "Can you destroy it?"

There's a thread of something expectant underlying his tone, almost anticipatory. It's not entirely without reason. Thus far, there has been nothing that Shiki could not see red lines on. There's nothing that her blade would not cut.

Daisaku-sama will have to live with being disappointed, though.

Shiki slowly shakes her head and sets down the cursed object in front of her.

"I can't," she tells him honestly. "… There are no lines. Sukuna's finger does not have any lines."

.

.

The Imaginary Demon God Ryomen Sukuna was defeated during the Heian Era, during the "Golden Age of Jujutsu." He was revered as a god, feared as a demon. A cruel specter, with four arms and two faces.

He was a human sorcerer.

Then in death, he became a cursed spirit.

Yet such was his strength that even death could not put a permanent end to the calamitous King of Curses. What now remained of Ryomen Sukuna were his twenty indestructible fingers traversing the ages as cursed objects, ever-growing in strength.

… No wonder Daisaku-sama had been visibly disappointed when Shiki told him that she couldn't see any lines. Disappointed, but understanding nonetheless. After all, it was a widely-accepted fact that no one could destroy Ryomen Sukuna's fingers. Nothing could destroy those fingers –not even a cursed technique that seemed to be perfectly suited for destruction.

Deathless.

Could something really be deathless? Shiki finds it a little hard to wrap her mind around the concept. Anything that lives, dies. That's the way of the world, isn't it? That's the basic understanding that her ability works upon. And, if the records that she'd looked up afterwards that day were true, Ryomen Sukuna had once truly lived. He had been a living, breathing sorcerer in those ancient times, thousands of years ago. Just as Shiki herself was living, breathing in this very moment.

… And then he died. Sorcerers of the age had given all they'd had in order to defeat the King of Curses.

Shiki remembers her lessons. Cursed spirits are born from the cursed energy created by humans as a natural byproduct of negative emotions. Fear, anger, hate, and everything in-between. The cursed energy gathers and builds, gathers and builds, eventually coalescing and festering –and thus a nightmarish cursed spirit is born.

But cursed spirits could also be born directly of humans: Those who die cursed deaths and have their spirits corrupted would then become vengeful cursed spirits in turn. Just look at Sugawara no Michizane, who the Gojo Clan claimed descent from. He'd had to be deified in order for his vengeful spirit to be quelled.

The whole point to this being:

Whether or not a human becomes a cursed spirit after dying depends on how they died, yes, but aside from that… it also depends on their level of cursed energy. And sorcerers have more cursed energy than most.

That's why all sorcerers must die cursed deaths. Sorcerers must be killed using cursed techniques, lest they turn into vengeful cursed spirits upon death.

Shiki highly doubts that the esteemed, venerable sorcerers of the Golden Age did not know of this fact. If Ryomen Sukuna had been a human sorcerer, there's no doubt that he would've been killed by sorcerers wielding their cursed techniques against him.

And yet he still became a cursed spirit upon death, even despite having been properly killed.

… Or rather, he became a cursed object? Twenty cursed objects? … Does that still count as him being a cursed spirit? Shiki feels like it should.

He doesn't have any lines. There are no lines.

No lines means no death. But no, Ryomen Sukuna had been killed, hadn't he? By sorcerers during the Golden Age.

… Yet, there were no lines on the cursed object that she'd held in her hands that day. No lines at all.

Quite frankly, Shiki is actually a little glad to finally, finally see something that doesn't have any red lines sprawled across it, but… it's probably not such a good thing, in this particular case. Ryomen Sukuna's fingers are Special Grade Cursed Objects, after all. They're curses. And curses are no good.

If Shiki had been born over two thousand years ago, if she'd lived during the same time as Ryomen Sukuna, and looked upon him with these cursed eyes… would she have been able to see eerie red lines scarring his body? Or would it have been just like his fingers? Would she have cast her eyes upon the man-demon-god, and seen nothing at all? Or would she have only seen another regular human being?

… Aside from the whole four arms and two faces deal, since that was apparently a thing. Right. Aside from that.

Shiki puffs her cheeks, exhaling.

Curiosity is not her nature. Shiki isn't driven by a tireless, insatiable desire to know. But all the same, ever since discovering that there was something out there that had no red lines… isn't it only natural, to be curious about it? And so she'd looked up more of the pitifully few records there were on 'Ryomen Sukuna.' A sorcerer who'd been more of a ruinous calamity of evil than a human man, if the tales were to be believed.

She's not entirely satisfied by what she's found, though, mainly because she still hasn't gotten any real answers. Why aren't there any lines?

There is a start and end to everything that exists in the world. From the moment they first come into conception, to the moment they reach their inevitable conclusion. What makes Sukuna's fingers any different?

… Of course, there was also the possibility that she was approaching this from the wrong angle.

Shiki straightens slowly, fingers tapping softly at the table next to her pile of texts.

Maybe it wasn't Sukuna's fingers that were the issue, here. Maybe the problem was with Shiki herself. Either some fault to Shiki's technique that she still doesn't understand… or because of the simple fact that she lacks strength.

Strength. If only Shiki was stronger–

"What's got you thinking so hard over there?"

Shiki startles and spins around at the unexpected voice behind her, "Satoru-oniichan?"

Her cousin grins and reaches over to ruffle her hair teasingly. Shiki ducks a little, eyes scrunching shut, but it only serves to make the teenager laugh, before his attention falls on her readings.

"Ryomen Sukuna?" In a single casual motion, Satoru-oniichan leans over her shoulder, humming lightly as his eyes flicker over the scrolls scattered across the table. "Why would you –ah. Is it still bothering you?"

"A little bit," Shiki admits.

"Hm. Well, it's not that big a deal," the white-haired teenager gives her another pat on the head. "If it's of any consolation to you, no sorcerer has ever been able to destroy one of Sukuna's fingers."

"… Not even you?" she finds herself asking.

"Nope," Satoru-oniichan responds easily. "Although, who's to say it'll still be that way in the future?"

The little girl tilts her head, then makes a small sound of understanding. Satoru-oniichan might be the strongest, but there's still room for him to become even stronger in the future. If Shiki can work towards becoming stronger day by day, there's no reason for Satoru-oniichan to remain unmoving, is there? He's going to school for training, just like Kento-ojichan, and Kento-ojichan is training to become stronger, too.

Shiki thinks she gets it.

"On another note," Satoru-oniichan rummages for something in the bag that he's carrying. "Where did I… ah-ha, found it!"

Triumphantly, her cousin brandishes–

"Glasses?" Shiki blinks. "… Again?"

"Mhm. The clan's toolmakers came up with another pair, so I took the liberty of bringing them over with me," Satoru-oniichan hands the delicate frames over to her. "Apparently the last few didn't work out too well?"

The little girl waves her hand, making a haphazard 'so-so' gesture. "… Sort of? The first four pairs didn't work at all, but the fifth worked for a full week. And then I started seeing lines on everything again."

She'd received that fifth pair of spelled glasses a few days after she'd been presented with one of Sukuna's fingers in the sealed testing room. The sheer relief she'd felt, when she realized that she could finally see normally–!

Shiki had almost been resigned to forever being unable to see things normally again. It's –it's distracting, maddening, wrong. The elders can talk all they like about a sorcerer's techniques being natural to their body, but they're not the ones living in a world full of eerie red lines. Nothing can change Shiki's opinion that there's something not right about literally being able to see death like this.

Death is natural. Visually perceiving death in the form of glowing red lines? Is very much not natural.

"That makes this pair number six, then?" Satoru-oniichan gestures towards the new pair of glasses he'd just handed to her.

"Seven, actually," Shiki corrects. "… The sixth pair lasted four days."

"That doesn't sound very promising."

"It doesn't," the girl agrees. "But it's fine. I don't actually need any of these glasses anymore."

Satoru-oniichan blinks, surprised. "Wait, you don't? But what about the lines, don't they give you a headache?"

Shiki stiffens, jerking up. "How did you–?"

She's sure that she's never mentioned her discomforts aloud! And it… it wasn't too bad, the headaches. Nothing that Shiki wouldn't be able to grit her teeth and work through, nothing debilitating–

"C'mon now, do you really need to ask?" The teenager taps at his own eyes pointedly, hidden beneath dark sunglasses as they are. "Nanami isn't going to be very happy with you, y'know."

Ah. Hmm.

"… Please don't tell Kento-ojichan?" Shiki tries. Satoru-oniichan laughs in her face.

"Nice try. So, care to tell me why you've been hiding it?" The young man pokes her pointedly, "Pushing your limits is all well and good, but not if it's only going to put you back into the hospital. You need to be more careful –it's not like your technique has been documented in the clan before, so if you don't make your limits clear, then the elders are only going to keep pushing."

Towards the end of his words, Satoru-oniichan's voice has settled into a decidedly more neutral tone. Shiki wonders if Satoru-oniichan is speaking from his own personal experiences with pushy elders. Gojo Satoru is the first in nearly four hundred years to be born with both Limitless and the Six Eyes, after all. The expectations that the Gojo Clan would have of him, the pressure laid upon his shoulders…

"Well?"

"I just didn't want Kento-ojichan to worry," Shiki finally says. "And… it wasn't so bad. The headaches weren't… I could still think. And go about things normally, most of the time. So, there wasn't any need to make a big deal about it."

Satoru-oniichan gives her a long look and a dramatic sigh.

"We really need to get around to updating your definition of what qualifies as 'bad,'" he says airily, rubbing lightly at his chin. "Yeah, no wonder Nanami is always so concerned about you."

… What does that mean?!

"We'll shelve that conversation for another day, though! I think Nanami deserves to be present for it." The white-haired teen claps his hands together, "So! The glasses. The whole point of them is to help you stop seeing the lines when you don't need to, like how I use extra-special sunglasses to dampen the information that's processed by my Six Eyes so it's not overwhelming all the time. You said that you don't need them anymore, though?"

"I don't need them," Shiki confirms. Because, "I finally figured out how to make the lines go away."

Satoru-oniichan stills. "Oh?"

The girl nods once, firmly.

Her cousin promptly crouches down in front of her, removing the dark sunglasses obscuring his own eyes. The Six Eyes shine light and crystalline, keen with unerring perception. As vibrantly blue as always, flickering with the sort of kaleidoscopic brilliance that should not be possible in human eyes. From this perspective, Shiki thinks she finally might understand why no one ever really seems to look her in the eyes anymore, if her eyes are anything like Satoru-oniichan's.

Cursed blue eyes.

Satoru-oniichan peers carefully down at her as he examines Shiki's own eyes, close enough that they're almost directly face-to-face with each other.

"Are you doing it right now?" he asks. "'Making the lines go away,' as you put it?"

"Yes," Shiki responds. She looks at her cousin –really looks at him. Free of glowing red lines, Shiki is finally able to really look at Satoru-oniichan and take in his appearance properly.

We really do look alike, she realizes. Sort of. It goes beyond the blue eyes and white hair, although that's certainly a large factor. There's something in the face, too, except that's not entirely true–

But that's a little neither here nor there, at the moment.

"Interesting," her cousin hums lightly, still studying Shiki carefully as he cocks his head like a bird. "… It doesn't actually look like there's anything different from the usual state for your eyes."

The little girl shrugs helplessly. She doesn't entirely understand it herself, either. But the very moment that Shiki had put on that first pair of working glasses and realized that it was really possible for the lines to go away, that had been all the prompting she'd needed to find her own solution.

It was possible for the lines to disappear. It was possible for the lines to disappear! Shiki instantly knew that she needed to learn how to do this, before she ended up being driven insane from it all. It didn't matter that the Gojo Clan would be willing to craft these specialized glasses for her –glasses could be broken all too easily. As long as it was possible to make the lines go away in the first place… as long as Shiki could figure out how…

"Can you activate your technique again? Make the lines reappear?"

Shiki blinks in a heartbeat and says, "Done."

"… Yeah, it honestly doesn't look any different," Satoru-oniichan squints at her, then laughs. "Amazing! I've never heard of anything like that being possible for the Six Eyes before."

The little girl shrugs helplessly. "Because… it's not the Six Eyes?"

"… I need to stage an intervention soon, I think you've been spending way too much time around the elders." She honestly can't tell if her cousin is joking. Probably not? It's Satoru-oniichan. Shiki makes the executive decision to keep quiet about this in front of Kiyohira-sensei. "So, how does it work? I'm not seeing any fluctuations in your cursed energy, and nothing about the flow in your eyes has changed at all."

How does she explain it?

Shiki had eventually figured out how to stop seeing the red lines on her own by using the special glasses as a helping tool of sorts. She'd started off by visiting the clan's toolmakers, and she'd learned that the glasses hadn't been inscribed with suppression or disruption seals, or anything of the sort. Shiki hadn't completely understood the convoluted explanations, but she did understand one thing: It wasn't so much about the cursed energy as it was about perception.

So, it's a bit of a misnomer to say that the lines disappeared… because that's actually an outright lie.

It's a little hard to properly put this into words, but something inside Shiki had always known that it was impossible for the lines to truly disappear. Hence why she'd been so convinced that this would be something that she'd have to learn to live with seeing for the rest of her life. She chalks it up to some unexplained aspect regarding "innate techniques."

That being said: The lines haven't disappeared. The lines will never truly disappear. But as long as Shiki changes her perception, as long as she shifts her focus just right… then, it's possible to alter her field of vision enough that she can overlook certain things.

Like eerie red lines, for example.

… It's a bit awkward and takes getting used to, but it works. And it makes perfect sense, in retrospect! When a person looks at something with their eyes, they only really see it when they're focusing on it. If they're not actively focusing on it, then it's possible for the mind to ignore it. And that's essentially the same as not seeing it at all.

How does it work?

"By changing my perspective," is probably the best way to put it. Shiki nods firmly, and clarifies by adding, "I do it by shifting my focal point."

There's a long beat of silence.

"… I'm sorry, but I've just gotta ask," Satoru-oniichan says slowly, "Did you happen to get any tips on how to explain things from Shoko when I wasn't looking? Because that almost felt like one of Shoko's explanations on reverse cursed technique. Don't use Shoko as an example, by the way, she's a terrible example."

"Um…" Shiki flounders. Maybe she should try to simplify her explanation on how she makes the red lines 'disappear?' "I just ignore it really hard?"

… Alright, maybe that was a little too simple.

Satoru-oniichan probably thinks so as well, if the way he slaps a hand to his forehead is any indication of things. "… Okay. Okay! Moving on, then."

Shiki winces, "Sorry."

"Nah, don't worry about it," her cousin waves her off. "I'm guessing it probably wouldn't work for me anyways, since it sounds like you're… purposely limiting your own perception, somehow? And the Six Eyes is all about seeing everything all the time, so."

"That sounds very tiring."

"It is! Which is why I've got these," Satoru-oniichan holds up his sunglasses. "Glad you've figured out your own solution, though. So, who else knows about your new breakthrough? … Have you even told anyone else yet?"

Shiki opens her mouth to say 'yes,' but pauses.

… Has she told anyone? She'd been rather preoccupied with figuring out how to stop seeing red lines everywhere these past few days. Aside from that, she'd also been curious about that Special Grade finger, and so she'd busied herself with looking up records on Ryomen Sukuna. And that was all on top of her regular training.

Did she tell Kiyohira-sensei about her discovery? … Surely she did at some point, right?

"…"

"Ha! A little scatterbrained, are we?" Satoru-oniichan laughs at her. Shiki ducks her head. "Aww, are you pouting? Don't worry, you'll still be my favorite little cousin, forgetful tendencies and all."

The young girl lets out a small 'hmph' from his teasing, fighting a reluctant smile.

.

.

A week after it becomes known that Shiki is able to control the red lines in her vision ("Why am I the last one to find out about this? We literally live under the same roof!" "Sorry, Kiyohira-sensei."), she is finally given permission to leave the Gojo clan compound.

Not freely, but no longer as heavily restricted as before. Shiki is pleased –she'll finally be able to visit Kento-ojichan, like how he's been visiting her!

Kiyohira-sensei is less pleased.

"It's still too dangerous," he insists. The tall man folds his arms across his chest, resigned. "… For the record, I don't approve of this. Try to watch yourself out there, alright? And listen to the Special Grade One supervising you."

"Yes, Kiyohira-sensei," Shiki says patiently. She gets a squinty, narrow-eyed look from the man in question.

"… I know you're probably not on the best terms with Isao, but he's decent enough, as a sorcerer. Certain attitudes aside. He'll listen to the elders' orders and watch over you seriously."

The little girl blinks, "Who's Isao-san?"

Kiyohira-sensei gives her a look. "Are you kidding me? 'Gojo Isao.' The name isn't ringing any bells for you? You broke his family's heirloom sword, girl."

… Oh.

Right, Shiki remembers him. Gojo Isao was the man who'd held Shiki at swordpoint, the first time she'd been brought before the elders for her eyes. Lies, he'd claimed. He'd spoken disparagingly of her parents, too.

And then Shiki broke his sword.

"I remember him," she nods.

"… And now I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not," Kiyohira-sensei grumbles under his breath. Then sighs, "Run along, you little menace, and stay out of trouble. God knows the number of messes Satoru-sama got himself into, as a child. Don't follow his example, please."

Shiki hums. There's probably a number of stories hidden under Kiyohira-sensei's long-suffering tone, but she'll have to ask after them later.

"Thank you for your advice and concern, Kiyohira-sensei," she responds. But for some reason, this makes the man's complexion darken, and Kiyohira-sensei glowers fiercely down at her.

"Out with you, now. Out!"

Hiding her confusion, Shiki bows politely from the doorway. "I will be leaving, then."

… She can't really make out what the man's muffled response is as the doors slide shut behind her, although it sounds suspiciously like "scram."

Shiki isn't sure why Kiyohira-sensei is so grumpy and irritated by her outing –it's not like he's particularly happy to have a child living with him, right? Shouldn't he be happy that Shiki is leaving the house for a day? She'd been essentially foisted on him by the elders, after all, and there had also been that incident with Satoru-oniichan in the beginning. While Kiyohira-sensei is certainly softer with her now than he had initially been, it's still…

"Oi, over here."

Shiki pauses at the sharp call directed towards her. The man is vaguely familiar, with his pinched expression and light brown hair. Although Shiki has not interacted with him again ever since that fateful meeting, it's easy enough to remember him, especially with the conversation with Kiyohira-sensei fresh in the forefront of her mind. The sword at the man's hip is definitely different from the one that Shiki had previously broken, though.

"Hello, Isao-san," she greets cordially.

Gojo Isao smiles –or grimaces, it's a little hard to decipher. Although, the expression is quickly cleared from his face. "… Greetings to the blessed child. I will be your escort for your trip outside the compound today."

Contrary to what Shiki recalls of the man, Isao-san isn't actively antagonistic towards her as they fall in step together, even though it's clear that he's not very comfortable in her presence. Which then begged the question of why he was her escort. Shiki highly doubts that the elders of the Gojo Clan would be unaware of… this. What made them think that it would be a good idea for Isao-san to be the one nominally in charge of Shiki for her outing?

The first stretch of the car ride is spent in absolute silence. Shiki doesn't mind. It's not as if she has anything to say to Isao-san, anyways. But the man himself appears to feel otherwise, fingers tapping out an erratic rhythm on his knee until he finally turns to break the silence.

"Aren't you able to control your technique now?" Isao-san glances back towards Shiki from the passenger's seat. It only lasts a brief moment, before he lifts his gaze and looks away. "So why are your eyes still like that?"

'Like that' is probably referring to how Shiki's eyes remain an unholy, eldritch blue despite her technique being "inactive," rather than returning to the normal brown that they originally once were. The easy answer to this is because shifting her perspective apparently does not affect the state of her eyes, since it's only a change in her own mental perception. But does she owe a man like Isao-san any answers?

The sorcerer sighs heavily when she steadily ignores him. "… Look. I'd prefer it if you didn't hold a grudge against me just for voicing my own opinions. Your eyes might've turned out to be the real thing, but we have had precedents where fellow clansmen tried to fake cursed techniques for honor and prestige. Considering how the Tobiume is practically in shambles at this point, can you really blame me for drawing the most rational conclusion?"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Isao-san." While it's true that Shiki isn't fond of the man, she isn't holding a grudge against him, either. Simply put, she doesn't care enough about him to hold a grudge. Shiki had literally forgotten his name… if not his actions.

"No, I think I do," he presses on regardless. "Surely you've covered the subject in your studies by this point, too. Blood and lineage are important in the world of sorcerers, because of the cursed techniques they carry. But potential is just that: Potential. If a child is not born with a cursed technique or enough cursed energy, then it's a shame, but there's nothing to be done about it."

"Your point?"

"My point is… I apologize for my poor choice of words that day, if that's the reason for the cold shoulder. And, I admit that perhaps I may have gone a tad overboard in using the Mirror Blade." Isao-san twitches at the mention of his broken sword.

… Right, hadn't that been an heirloom or something?

"But I sincerely hope you understand: The Gojo Clan is a sorcerer clan," he pulls himself back together and continues. "Sorcerers exist to fight curses. Those without the strength and ability should never be put in a position where they'll have to fight curses someday. Yes, children with cursed techniques are prized and adored over those without… but what good is honor and prestige, if it's built on lies? All that will result in, is a death sentence."

There's something heartfelt and genuine in Isao-san's voice, in this moment. In his own way, it's clear that he's only doing what he believes is right. Those with the ability should fight, and those without the ability –shouldn't. Clear-cut and simple. He hadn't thought that Shiki's cursed eyes were real, and so he'd vehemently opposed Ima-san's entreaties based on that understanding.

But even so, he's still mistaken about something.

"Isao-san," Shiki says. "I truly do not care."

And that's the honest truth of the matter: Shiki doesn't care whether or not anyone believes her cursed eyes to be true or fake. She doesn't care if it's a new, powerful technique, or only a pitiful shadow of the clan's prized Six Eyes. Shiki doesn't care for any of the power plays or clash of ideals amongst the adults that go straight over her head.

She just wants the strength to be able to stand on her own two feet, and not be a burden to Kento-ojichan. Or Satoru-oniichan, either.

… That's all.

Isao-san stares blankly at her for a long moment, before letting out a small laugh.

"I see," he shakes his head with a faint smile. "Perhaps that might even be for the best, then. I don't suppose that you've been–"

Abruptly, the man cuts himself off, straightening in his seat.

Isao-san's eyes narrow as he spins, "Shiki–"

There's a deafening boom, as the entire world shakes around them. Reflexively, Shiki shuts her eyes from the blinding flash of light, arms rising in a too-late futile attempt to defend herself as she's bodily thrown into the air, shrapnel flying everywhere–

But there's no pain at all. Instead, there is only the feeling of a calloused hand gripping her firmly by her wrist, while broken shards of glass and metals slide down harmlessly around her.

"An explosion, really? No originality at all," Isao-san's voice remains calm, even despite the destruction. There's no shock in his words at all, merely a vague sense of annoyance. "Ah, you can open your eyes, it's alright. Don't worry, everything is going to be fine."

Heart thudding in her chest, Shiki slowly opens her eyes again.

It's –it's a mess. The car is a total loss, completely in pieces, and there's even a small fire in the middle of the empty mountain road. But somehow, Shiki stands amidst it all entirely unharmed. It should've been impossible to dodge the shrapnel so suddenly at point-blank range, but for some reason Shiki doesn't even have so much as a single scratch on her body. The same applied to their chauffeur as well, wide-eyed and trembling–

And the young chauffeur stumbles, when Isao-san releases his grip on his shoulder and gives him a gentle shove in Shiki's direction.

"My cursed technique is called Fluctuation," Isao-san says loudly, projecting his voice. It's clear that he's not addressing Shiki with his words, focused as he is on their too-still surroundings. "It's no Limitless, but it still allows me to negate most forms of physical damage. I achieve this by controlling the frictional coefficients of anything within my range."

Binding vow, Shiki realizes. Isao-san is using the binding vow of disclosing one's technique to the enemy, which would increase the strength and effectiveness of his own cursed technique.

"You're pretty brazen, trying to launch an open assault like this. So, how much are you getting paid? I can tell you right now that it's not–"

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Gunshots ring loudly; three in quick succession, one after another. Shiki jerks a little, as does the hapless chauffeur next to her who literally jumps at the sound. But Isao-san simply folds his arms in front of himself, standing in front of them like an immovable wall despite his slender frame. There's a strange ripple in the air in front of the man, accompanied by a swell in his cursed energy, and then the bullets just –melt into nothing.

Literally.

"Maximized air resistance," is all Isao-san offers lightly into the ringing silence. "Bullets and blades are pointless against me, y'see. Is that all you've got?"

The answer to his question is another rain of bullets. Except this time, it's the rapidfire rush of what sounds like a machine gun. Isao-san clicks his tongue, and the air before him begins glowing once more, expanding into a shield protecting all three of them from the seemingly-endless gunfire.

"Stay here," he says shortly. Isao-san throws a talisman to the ground in front of Shiki and the chauffeur, and strange seals immediately inscribe themselves into a circular formation around them as the paper seal burns. "Don't cross the boundary, or my cursed technique won't be able to protect you anymore. This will only take a moment."

With that said, Isao-san's cursed energy surges sharply, and he moves. He's fast, inhumanly so –almost as fast as Kiyohira-sensei, to Shiki's eyes. The man charges directly towards the source of the gunfire with no hesitation whatsoever, disappearing somewhere behind the line of trees just beyond the roadside.

"E-Everything will be fine," the chauffeur says in Isao-san's absence. The young man's voice trembles slightly, and he smiles shakily down at Shiki even despite his obvious fear. "Isao-sama is strong. We'll be fine."

… Is he trying to reassure her? Shiki isn't… she'd been startled, certainly, but somehow the fear hasn't kicked in quite yet. Certainly, she can still feel the rapid thump-thump-thump of her heartbeat from having been caught in the middle of an explosion just now. But aside from that, she doesn't feel like she's been particularly affected by the sudden turn that the car trip had taken.

Because Isao-san had acted swiftly and protected her.

… Shiki doesn't know what to think about it.

Regardless of her muddled thoughts, Isao-san is true to his word and does not take long to return. Shiki's eyes can't help but catch on the way he casually flicks his blade, clearing it of crimson stains, before sliding it back into the sheath at his hip.

Gojo Isao casually strolls back to them at a wholly unbothered, unhurried pace.

"There were three of them. One was a fairly skilled shikigami user –not that it meant anything for them, in the end," Isao-san shakes his head. "Now that that's over with… I suppose the car's a total loss, but there's no point in standing around here like this. I'll give a call and have–"

Suddenly, the man stops and freezes, just a few paces in front of Shiki and the young chauffeur. A strange sort of expression flickers across Isao-san's face, but it's hard to make out what it is, exactly.

Inexplicably, a foreboding chill runs down the length of Shiki's spine.

"… Isao-san?"

For a silent moment, the man stares directly at her, his mouth slowly opening and closing mutely.

Then, without further warning or fanfare, Isao-san's head falls off from his neck in a spectacular burst of red, hitting the ground in a gory mess and bouncing once, twice, before eventually rolling to a stop at Shiki's feet.

.

.

…

.