66

Shiki remembers attending Jihei-san's funeral, years and years ago. It had been a solemn affair. She recalls the scent of incense. Flowers filling a casket, and softly-murmured prayers offered to the deceased.

… For Gojo Yuzuki, it would be no different.

Except, Yuzuki-san's funerary arrangements would most likely be far simpler and much more modest in comparison to Jihei-san's. Because unlike Jihei-san, Yuzuki-san was most decidedly not a Special Grade One sorcerer. The Gojo Clan would not find it appropriate to bestow upon him the same rights as that of one of the clan's respected sorcerers.

"Although he will not receive the same honors as the clan's sorcerers, rest assured that everything else will be carried out to their utmost," Daisaku-sama informs her. The elderly man's voice is quiet and subdued, distinctly edged with a sorrowful note, but his eyes remain as sharp as ever. "Please rest, Shiki. I've heard about the severity of your injuries from our honorable clan head. You do yourself no favors, pushing yourself to immediately travel here all the way from Kyoto in spite of it. What would Yuzuki say to you?"

Yuzuki-san won't say anything, because he's dead.

Perhaps her thoughts show themselves a little too obviously in her expression, because the elder shakes his head and heaves a heavy sigh. "… It was sudden. But not… entirely unexpected. You have my condolences for your loss, Shiki."

The correct answer to this is Thank you. She knows this because it's what she learned from Yuzuki-san.

Her lips move. Shiki gives the elder the correct response, unfeeling, and watches detachedly as he dips his head towards her. A sign that he is relieved by the two simple words.

"Please rest," he tells her again. "I am not so old that I need a child to step forward to organize the funeral of a close friend."

The correct answer is also Thank you, coupled with I'm grateful.

Shiki proceeds to go through the motions once more. Daisaku-sama smiles. It seems that she has successfully passed the unspoken test in this set of interactions, then.

… The elder takes his leave soon afterwards. It's only expected. After all, the time of a clan elder is precious. Yuzuki-san's funeral is only one out of the many tasks that Daisaku-sama needs to deal with, and perhaps the only reason why Daisaku-sama is taking care of Yuzuki-san's funeral is to send a subtle message: For all that Gojo Yuzuki had been frail and sickly his entire life, he was still important and treasured. To the point where a respected elder of the Gojo Clan would prepare the arrangements for his funeral in person.

Was it because Daisaku-sama cared for Yuzuki-san, in his own way? Or perhaps, was it because this would firmly indicate to any naysayers that they needed to hold their tongues before Shiki, who considered Yuzuki-san to be an important friend of hers? … A combination of the two, perhaps?

Shiki wouldn't know. Yuzuki-san would undoubtedly have a better idea, but… Yuzuki-san is dead.

She wonders why she doesn't feel more about it.

The vague emptiness carved out inside the middle of her chest is familiar. She'd experienced something similar when Jihei-san had passed. But more than that, there's also the sensation of something heavier this time that's almost… constricting. Shiki doesn't know what to call this feeling. She just knows that it's different from Jihei-san's death.

… It's not guilt. It can't be. Shiki is not the reason why Yuzuki-san is sick. She's not the reason for his death. In this, it's not her fault, and neither is it something that she can control.

But she'd been late.

'I can kill it.' Those had been the exact words that she'd said to the Fushiguro siblings yesterday. Just yesterday, and yet it also seems like something that happened ages ago.

"Ojou-sama." A dark-haired young man bows to her. Shiki recognizes him. He's one of the servants attending –who attended– Yuzuki-san, and his name is–

"Suzurigi Mutsuo," one of Choki's cousins. A beat later, Shiki also remembers to greet him with a verbal, "Hello."

The young man does not appear to be offended by her brief lapse. His head lowers as he folds himself into a deeper bow.

"My sincerest condolences for your loss, ojou-sama," Mutsuo's voice is tight, subdued. The words are spoken with a distinctly careful cadence, as if to prevent any tremors from leaking through–

But he is not entirely successful in his efforts. Shiki can hear the choked edge to his voice, can see the quiver in his frame. It's clear that Mutsuo had been fond of the young master that he served.

That he had served.

When someone is grieving, it is considered polite to offer your sympathies.

"… My condolences to you as well," Shiki tells him. Mutsuo jerks, head snapping up, and –ah. His eyes are faintly red-rimmed.

But Shiki's own eyes remain stubbornly dry.

"I… you honor me with those words, ojou-sama," Mutsuo sucks in a deep breath. "You are here to visit Yuzuki-sama's dwellings –I won't be in your way any longer. Please take as long as you need. I will ensure that you are not disturbed during this time."

"Thank you, Mutsuo."

"It is my duty to serve, ojou-sama."

Shiki nods, and steps inside the building where Yuzuki-san has lived all these years.

Every step forward is painful, seeming to aggravate some injury or other. Shiki still hasn't managed to fully heal herself using reverse cursed technique. She'd prioritized putting herself together just enough to enable proper movement, rather than wait so she had enough cursed energy to make a full recovery. In Shoko-san's words, this would only extend the overall length of her healing period, but…

But it was important that Shiki returned to the clan compound swiftly, and so she did.

She was already late enough as it was.

… The interior of the building looks no different from the last time she'd been here. There is nothing that's disturbed, nothing that looks out of place. It's always quiet here, as Yuzuki-san was someone who preferred the silence of his scrolls and books most days. But somehow, it seems even quieter, now.

Yuzuki-san's death… is both a surprise, and not. It's a surprise that it happened like this so suddenly, but it's not as if there had been no forewarning. In fact, Shiki has had years of prior forewarning. Ever since they'd met each other as young children for the very first time, if one looks at the facts for what they are.

The deathly illness that Yuzuki-san carried with him was common knowledge in the clan, after all. Yuzuki-san, similar to Shiki, had his own fair share of whispers following him.

How unfortunate, such a sick, frail child.

Born with an excellent cursed technique as well… oh, what a shame…

Alas, but what can be done? Fate is cruel.

Shiki has always been cognizant of the knowledge that Yuzuki-san would die young. His death does not catch her unaware. And yet… it's ill-timed.

Her battle against Araya had deepened Shiki's understanding and grasp of her own abilities. But while she'd been able to use it to kill the curse user, it's evidently too late to be of any use to Yuzuki-san. Yuzuki-san, who always had an interesting scroll or two to recommend to her. Who would patiently answer Shiki's questions without any judgment, who never minded explaining the baffling thoughts and motives of the politically-minded clan elders.

Shiki doesn't know if she considers Yuzuki-san to be her 'best friend,' like what Geto-san is to Satoru-niichan. Hopefully not, going by her cousin's example. But–

… But he was a good friend. Her first friend.

She would miss him.

"Sir, please, you can't–"

"And who are you, to tell me what I can or can't do?"

A minor commotion. Hurried footsteps, and raised voices. Mutsuo's voice is a mix of fearful and agitated, which strikes a sharp juxtaposition against the lazy, unhurried drawl of the newcomer speaking with him. The sounds carry easily through the open window.

Shiki turns around, and calmly steps back outside into the courtyard.

Aside from Mutsuo, there is another man standing in the middle of the stone pathway, beside the verdant camellia bushes that are void of any blooms. Ashen gray hair frames his face, coupled by a pair of coal-black eyes that cut towards Shiki at her arrival.

Gojo Hajime –Yuzuki-san's father– smiles.

"A pleasure to see you again, blessed daughter of our noble clan," the man dips his body in a shallow bow. Polite and respectful. "Although I believe that I speak for the both of us when I say that I wish it were under better circumstances."

Doubtful. When Yuzuki-san had spoken about his parents, Shiki had received the impression that they did not particularly care about whether Yuzuki lived or died –a fact which only started to change once she became friends with him, but at that point, the previous damage had already been done. Yuzuki-san held little love for the parents who provided him with medical care solely for the sake of upholding their own reputation. From his perspective, Isao-san was the one who'd been a father figure to him.

"Why are you here?" she asks.

The man chuckles. "What a cruel question, ojou-sama. Is it so strange for a father to wish to visit his late son's dwellings in fond remembrance after such an unfortunate passing?"

His words would be more convincing if there was even a single trace of grief on his face, and if he hadn't arrived immediately on the heels of Shiki's own arrival here.

… Then again, it's not as if Shiki has any room to speak in this respect, especially considering her own lack of tears and various other outward expressions of sorrow. It could very well be the case that the man was grieving the loss of his son in a way that differed from others around him.

Shiki finds it to be rather unlikely as she observes the clansman before her, though.

Gojo Hajime's smile widens.

"… I've heard that the blessed child immediately returned from Kyoto, despite the troubles that occurred during Obon this year. I hope that the journey wasn't too taxing on you, my young lady."

His voice is nominally concerned –but it's also a careless, feigned sort of concern. Gojo Hajime doesn't care to hide his attitude from her at all.

Shiki finds herself thoroughly unimpressed. "Either say what you're here to say, or leave."

"Quite cold of you, ojou-sama," the man sighs exaggeratedly, almost theatrically, even though his tone of voice remains unbothered. "But I suppose you'd be correct that I do have motives for approaching you. Here."

From his sleeve, Gojo Hajime draws out a small stack of –paper? … No, letters. Letters that are tied together in a neat stack, and…

It's Yuzuki-san's handwriting.

"For you and your friends," Gojo Hajime offers by way of explanation, holding out the letters to her with an ever-present smile. "Yuzuki knew the state of his own body, and he wrote these in advance a long time ago. I am here to pass them to you."

It's very in-character for Yuzuki-san to do something like that. But, considering the estranged familial relationship, "Why would these letters be in your hands?"

"Well, I am the boy's father, aren't I?" A slight laugh. Shiki remains unmoved, and the man shakes his head. A smile starts tugging at the edge of his lips again, "You think that I tampered with them? Ah, but what would be the benefit for me in doing so? I, for one, have no desire to make an enemy out of the blessed child."

Shiki remains still, refusing to accept the letters. Gojo Hajime turns and gestures towards Mutsuo –who, with a brief glance in Shiki's direction, follows her lead and ducks his head, pretending not to see the beckoning movement.

The ashen-haired man sighs.

Then, with a flare of cursed energy, shreds the entire stack of letters into pieces.

To the side, Mutsuo gives a small start at the unexpected action, head snapping up and eyes widening in surprise –but Gojo Hajime does not look towards the servant. Instead, Shiki is the one who bears the full weight of his attention.

The shredded bits of paper slowly drift to the ground, a tattered white storm.

"Still nothing, really?" The man's voice sounds almost disappointed at her complete lack of reaction. "Hmm… I thought I might see you shed another tear or two for it."

… Another?

Shiki blinks, and raises a hand to her face. Her fingers come away faintly wet with a single trail of tears. How odd. She doesn't remember crying.

"I honestly don't understand you," Gojo Hajime says candidly, tilting his head owlishly. "And I really don't understand what Yuzuki saw in you, either. Even despite his natural aptitude for it, he never sought power nor authority. So for him to treat someone like you the way he did… it's not something I ever expected from him, if I'm being perfectly honest."

Shiki lets her hand drop back down, "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Maybe, maybe not," the man shrugs. "You're an odd one. I guess I'm just curious. Unlike my darling youngest son, I've never quite managed to get a proper read on you."

… Is he even listening to the nonsense that's coming out of his mouth?

"Ah, 'curiosity' isn't convincing enough of a reason for you?" Gojo Hajime hums. "Then, you can think of it as me being proactive for 'the sake of the Gojo Clan.'"

"You don't care about the Gojo Clan," Shiki responds neutrally. Red lines gleam in front of her eyes as she regards the foolish man. "Your only priority is yourself."

Gojo Hajime arches an eyebrow and whistles, "My, my. What in the world makes you say that, little princess? Heavy accusation to make, isn't it? Mind telling me who's been spreading such baseless rumors behind my back?"

"Yuzuki-san."

"Ah, Yuzuki," the man lets out a short bark of laughter, and sighs. "… I'd always wondered, back when he was born, what use there would ever be for such a sickly child. Y'know, I'm very glad to have been proven wrong on that front."

"Yuzuki-kun didn't have anything to prove to you."

It's a new voice that cuts in with these words, a pointed response that's level and uncompromising.

"… No, I suppose not," Gojo Hajime concedes easily as he turns around and smiles in greeting. "Why hello there, Nanami-kun. Long time no see… oh my. My, my, my. You're looking rather rough around the edges there, Nanami-kun. Tough mission?"

Ken-jichan.

… It feels like forever since Shiki has seen her uncle. And, unfortunately, Gojo Hajime is not wrong in that Ken-jichan is indeed looking a little haggard. The last mission that he'd taken had most likely been a difficult one. The way he holds himself is stiff and awkward, and he's even moving along on a metal crutch. Beneath the collar of his shirt, there is also a faint hint of bandage wrappings peeking out.

Nanami Kento slowly makes his way over towards Shiki. On her part, Shiki watches her uncle approach with unblinking eyes.

In the background, Gojo Hajime lets out a light hum, and takes a small step backwards. He's still smiling. "… I shall leave you here in the good hands of your uncle then, ojou-sama. I'll see you at Yuzuki's funeral service."

With a slight bow, the man turns and takes his leave.

Ken-jichan watches the other man depart with a slight frown creasing his lips. "What was Gojo Hajime doing here?"

"… To talk," Shiki responds. She still does not know what the man had hoped to achieve by seeking her out like this, exactly, but–

"Did I interrupt anything?"

Shiki thinks about it for a moment. "If you hadn't come, I think I might've ended up killing him."

Ken-jichan pauses. "You really shouldn't joke about things like that."

It's not a joke. She's perfectly aware that there is inherent value to life for the living, but at the same time… "I don't know why Yuzuki-san wouldn't let me kill him."

Her uncle is silent for a few long beats.

"… Are you feeling alright?" he finally asks.

It's a very vague question that comes out of nowhere. Is he asking about her emotional state, because of Yuzuki-san's sudden death? Or is he asking because of what happened with Araya in Kyoto? There's also a possibility that Ken-jichan is referring to her injuries, since Shiki hasn't been able to heal herself fully yet.

Although, "That's what I should be asking you, Ken-jichan. Your leg…"

"It looks worse than it is," the young man shakes his head. "There was a tricky cursed spirit with the ability to make things float… that's not important, though."

Shiki frowns disapprovingly, "I disagree. That's not–"

"I heard about what happened in Kyoto."

There is a slight pause that hangs in the air between them. For a single instant, it seems as if Ken-jichan intends to delve into the matter –to convey his displeasure with Shiki getting herself into yet another dangerous, life-threatening situation; especially one that involves Araya Souren of all people. It would not be the first time that Ken-jichan has expressed such sentiments regarding the incidents that Shiki kept tripping headlong into over the years.

Except…

Surprisingly, Ken-jichan does not say anything along those lines. He closes his mouth, and instead…

… hugs her.

Slowly, carefully, Ken-jichan reaches out to her. He raises an arm, and circles it around her shoulder. A gesture of comfort. Shiki discovers that she can't help but lean into the gesture of affection, even despite the dull, stinging pain that it brings to her injured body.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"… We've had this conversation before, Ken-jichan." Multiple times, even. Perhaps it all started from the very moment when Shiki had been brought into the fold of the Gojo Clan as a child, and her uncle couldn't help but worry about what it meant for her future.

But it's not Ken-jichan's fault. None of it is.

Her uncle seems to pick up on the general direction of her thoughts, because his other arm also comes up to draw her into a full hug. The metal crutch clatters onto the ground beside them, forgotten.

"You've been through a lot these past few days," he says quietly, "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you."

It's true that the past few days have been… very eventful, to put it mildly. But again: That's not something that Ken-jichan needs to apologize for.

She thinks that's what Yuzuki-san would tell him if he were here, too. But Yuzuki-san isn't here anymore, and so Shiki conveys this to her uncle instead.

"That does sound like something Yuzuki-kun would say," Ken-jichan smiles, even though it's a small quirk of the lips that's devoid of any joy. A comforting expression, rather than one of mirth. "… I know that you have difficulty expressing your thoughts and emotions. But if you ever need a listening ear, then don't hesitate to find me. Alright?"

… Ken-jichan doesn't make her feel safe the way Satoru-niichan does. But there's no denying that he's still steady and grounded in his own way, even if it happens to be distinctly different from Satoru-niichan. Shiki appreciates Ken-jichan finding her of his own volition and offering her his support.

"Alright," she answers quietly. "… Thank you, Ken-jichan."

Her uncle exhales, a long, slow breath.

"Silly girl," he mutters, in a tone that's almost unbearably fond, intermingled with some other emotion that Shiki is unable to put a name to. "I'm your uncle. You can try to rely on me a little more, no matter what it is that you're facing."

The young girl nods silently. For some reason, her throat suddenly refuses to cooperate with her, and it's difficult to form any words to properly respond to her uncle's sentiments.

Ken-jichan pats her on the head, and Shiki closes her eyes.

.

.

Tsumiki and Megumi arrive in the Gojo clan compound in the evening. Shiki learns this only when she is nearly bowled over by two shikigami dogs leaping at her, in the scant few moments before the Fushiguro siblings catch up to the Divine Dogs.

Neither of them are very happy with her –"How could you just take off on your own like that? Have you forgotten that you're still injured?"– and it's only after Ken-jichan eventually intervenes that Shiki is finally freed from Tsumiki's relentless scolding and Megumi's pointed glower.

Satoru-niichan and Kiyohira-sensei are the last to return from Kyoto, just in time for Yuzuki-san's funeral.

A funeral. This ceremony serves the living as much as it does the dead, for it is one that provides an opportunity for friends and relatives of the deceased to bid their final farewells to the beloved, departed soul.

Tsumiki is a watery fountain of tears throughout the entire affair, the most emotive of all parties in attendance. Megumi is stiff and stone-faced and very clearly upset, but he does not cry as his sister does. Kiyohira-sensei's lips thin into a white line, and responds to all niceties in a low, curt tone that bites with the sharp sting of loss.

Gojo Hajime, on his part, wears an appropriately sorrowful expression for his son. The sorrow does not reach his eyes. He briefly nods towards Shiki precisely once in greeting, when he catches her looking in his direction, and that's the extent of their interactions during the funeral proceedings.

The man is smart enough to refrain from approaching her again, proving that he possesses some semblance of proper survival instincts after all.

Part of Shiki can't help but wonder… would Yuzuki-san be happy if she killed his father? Or would he simply just heave that tired, exasperated sigh of his and proceed to shake his head at her?

She supposes that she'll never know the answer, now.

…

After the funeral service, the reality of the situation sinks in a little more: Gojo Yuzuki is dead.

This means that Shiki won't be able to have conversations with him anymore. She won't be able to hear Yuzuki-san talk about Daisaku-sama's recent actions, or listen to him explain the baffling reactions of people around her. There won't ever be another ashen-haired boy who will greet her with a quiet Hello, Shiki-san when she visits the compound anymore. Who will smile fondly when he sees her and ask her about how she's doing, if there are any elders causing her trouble, or what activities she's been engaged in at the Tokyo school.

There are subtle echoes of Yuzuki-san threaded throughout her life, still. A subtle presence that was made all the more pronounced by a glaring absence.

Shiki isn't even sure that she remembers a Gojo clan compound without Yuzuki-san anymore.

… But it had been similar for Jihei-san too, hadn't it? In the immediate aftermath of Jihei-san's death, Shiki had also been quite unused to the fact that he was gone. Because humans are creatures of habit, and the gaping hole left behind by such an absence –the absence of knowing that someone was supposed to be there, except they were gone now, and would never return– is something that will take time to grow accustomed to.

I'll see you later, Shiki… but not for a long time, I should hope.

Those had been the words that the Not-Jihei puppet had spoken to her at the very end, when Shiki had been trapped in one of Araya's barriers. She imagines… that Yuzuki-san might say something similar to her, too, if they'd seen each other one last time.

Perhaps that's the worst thing about Yuzuki-san's death, that the window of opportunity for a different path had closed by scant hours before Shiki was able to do anything about it. Not even a full day. Yuzuki-san's illness had finally claimed his life the morning of the day that Shiki had awakened,immediately following her battle against Araya.

There was a certain cruelty in this turn of events. Hope, distant and fleeting. Then–

Summarily crushed.

… It's not her fault. Shiki knows that it's not her fault, but there are still moments when it certainly feels like it is.

"A mochi for your thoughts?"

"A what?" Shiki blinks at the sudden interjection of her cousin's voice in her internal musings, as something is suddenly thrown in front of her. She catches it reflexively, only to find herself holding a… mochi?

Satoru-niichan strolls over nonchalantly with a plastic bag dangling from his wrist. Shiki wonders if he'd teleported to a local conbini just now.

"You look like you're thinking hard about some serious things," the older sorcerer flashes her a winning smile. "Care to share with your favorite cousin?"

"… I'm just sorting out my thoughts," Shiki answers.

"And there's nothing wrong with that," Satoru-niichan says patiently, "Except you're doing it in front of Jihei's grave, and I heard from a little bird that you also went and spent quite a while in front of Yuzuki's grave earlier, too. Excuse me for being a little worried here about…"

The young man trails off, and squints.

"… Hang on, is that Kuji Kanesada?"

"Yes." Shiki follows the direction of her cousin's gaze, which is focused towards the gravestone before her. On the stone ledge where offerings are placed, there are fresh flowers… and the broken pieces of a sword.

Kinji had been the one to grab Kuji Kanesada when Araya had caused the building to collapse on them, and for that Shiki will always be grateful. But in the chaos of the fall when Kinji had used the broken blade in panic to ward off stray pieces of rubble, the sword had broken even further–

Parts of Kuji Kanesada are most likely gone for good by this point. Ground to dust beneath the rubble, or annihilated entirely. The remaining fragments he'd managed to keep ahold of had been returned to her by a sheepish Kinji right before she'd left Kyoto, and they are currently laid out upon Jihei-san's grave, glinting beneath the sunlight.

Satoru-niichan tilts his head. "You're not going to send it to the clan's forge? Have them melt it down and make a new sword out of it?"

"There wouldn't be any point." Even if the sword were to be reforged, it would only be an entirely new weapon, and not… not Kuji Kanesada. Cursed tools did not inherit special attributes from their predecessors; if a cursed tool was broken, that was the end of it. There wasn't really much to be said on the matter.

But more importantly–

"I want Jihei-san to finally rest in peace," she tells her cousin.

There's a certain parallel between Kuji Kanesada and Jihei-san, here. Jihei-san, a man who was forcibly recreated as a human puppet even in death, and Kuji Kanesada, a sword that was broken beyond repair…

Shiki isn't blind.

And, she can see that it would be kinder to let go. Because like Yuzuki-san, Jihei-san deserves to rest. Especially when taking into account what Araya had done.

So…

Thank you, and good-bye.

I'll see you later, Jihei-san.

… And you as well, Yuzuki.

Satoru-niichan lets out a slight hum, leaning forward to study the broken sword shards that sit as an offering upon Jihei-san's grave, "I guess I can see that. Is there any particular reason why you suddenly decided to pay a visit to Jihei here, though?"

Shiki peers up towards her taller cousin. That's right, she hasn't exactly had a chance to explain anything to him about the events that had transpired that day. So he wouldn't know that… "… I encountered a human puppet that bore Jihei-san's likeness when I was fighting Araya."

"Ah. The same one that your classmate encountered during the mess with the okuribi, I'm guessing?" As expected, Satoru-niichan makes the connection instantly. "What did it say to you? … Or rather, what happened during your fight with Araya? Tell me everything."

Shiki relates the encounter to her cousin.

The entire encounter, as Satoru-niichan requests, and it's… a little lengthy to explain in full, which comes as a startling realization to Shiki.

"… I see," Satoru-niichan murmurs at the end. A bag of mochi is added to the offerings arranged before Jihei's gravestone. He reaches into his plastic bag again, and hands her a bottle of water, which Shiki accepts gratefully. "Araya Souren… tsk, it's such a mess he's left for us to deal with. Man, what an asshole."

Shiki nearly chokes on her water, "Language, Satoru-niichan!"

"It's okay, Kiyohira isn't around right now." The young man waves his free hand flippantly and grins impishly at her, like they're sharing a secret. "I won't tell him if you don't."

Fondness and exasperation washes over her in equal measure, "Kiyohira-sensei always knows."

"Does he really?" Satoru-niichan laughs, before his expression grows somber again. "… About Araya. Don't take anything he said too seriously, 'kay?"

"Araya said a lot of things." Shiki's feelings towards the man named Araya Souren… can be mostly summed up as 'someone she wanted to kill.' A person like that, Shiki most certainly wouldn't put much stock into the words of. Moreover, there was also the distinct possibility of the man outright lying to her face, in order to rattle her focus and make her waver in order to gain an advantage in their battle.

But then…

Shiki glances towards Satoru-niichan, vaguely curious, "Does it bother you if I'm actually a human experiment?"

A hand lands on her head. Then, proceeds to very deliberately muss up her hair. Shiki attempts to duck away in protest, but her efforts are to no avail.

"Sorry," Satoru-niichan deadpans, completely unapologetic, "My hand went and moved on its own when I thought I heard something so utterly obtuse. Now, what did you just ask me?"

Shiki bats away at the offending hand, "I get it, I get it!"

"Hmph." After a few more moments of making a bird's nest out of her hair to really drive in the message, Satoru-niichan finally lifts his hand –and promptly uses his knuckles to rap against her forehead for emphasis. "… You're my little cousin. That's not going to change, no matter what an insane curse user says. Even if you're an experiment. Besides… if you're not human, then what does that make me?"

Satoru-niichan falls quiet for a moment after that, and there's… something that crosses over his expression. Shiki doesn't know what it is, but she doesn't like it.

She hesitates briefly, then silently leans towards her cousin to express comfort. His hand is still half-raised, however, which means that Shiki's head ends up bumping against it like she's the one seeking reassurance.

An amused huff from the older sorcerer.

"What are you, a cat?" Satoru-niichan pats her on the head again, although he is gentler this time, running his fingers through her hair to untangle the mess he'd made of it just now. "Does Mi-chan have competition now?"

For that unflattering comparison, Shiki gives her cousin a thoroughly unimpressed look. Satoru-niichan laughs.

… At least he's not making that expression anymore, though. That's good.

"C'mon," he finally turns around, stepping away and beckoning for her to follow. "It's time for you to get going. You don't really plan on standing here the entire day, do you?"

"No," Shiki trails after her cousin. "… Have I been here that long?"

"Long enough for that assistant of yours to call in extra reinforcements," he responds, which doesn't make… sense…

Shiki blinks.

At the edge of the graveyard, leading out into the streets… there are a few familiar silhouettes standing together. Choki remains stationed by the car a slight distance away, while Kinji and Kirara look like they're currently absorbed in something on one of their phones. Tsumiki peers over Kirara's shoulder, then turns to say something to Megumi beside her.

… The Gojo Clan's graveyard is located in a secluded, unobtrusive area, and there are multiple layers of barriers warding it. No one ever comes here unintentionally, which could only mean…

…

… Were they waiting for her?

"Go on," Satoru-niichan gives her a gentle pat on the back, then pushes her forward encouragingly. Shiki hadn't realized that she'd stopped walking. "I'll come and find you again at the Tokyo school sometime later; there's still a lot that we need to talk about. But for now, your friends are waiting for you."

Megumi is the first to notice. He glances up in their general direction, pauses briefly when he catches sight of the two of them, then raises his arm for a friendly wave. Which causes the rest of the group to notice, and also start waving –which causes Satoru-niichan to laugh slightly.

Shiki steps forward obligingly, and pauses. She tugs her cousin's sleeve, "You're not coming along, too?"

"Unfortunately, there are still a dozen different matters that I need to go and take care of," Satoru-niichan shakes his head and heaves a gusty sigh. "… Take it easy for a bit, y'hear me? And don't miss me too much!"

…

Shiki heads down the street to rejoin those waiting for her. Kinji claps her on the back, while Kirara offers a smile. Both of them appear to be healthy. She'll have to remember to thank Shoko-san, next time when she sees the older woman again. Megumi nods in greeting, while Tsumiki reaches over and loops an arm around Shiki's own and promptly starts chattering.

It's… nice.

Overhead, the sun shines brightly, and they walk forward along the warm asphalt street together.

.

.

…

.