Chapter Text
Eleven years ago, Japan stopped being normal. No—that’s not right. Normal didn’t just stop. It was erased. Every child born, every person stepping onto its soil, every foreigner daring to stay longer than a few days—changed. The moment they crossed into Japan, something awakened inside them.
A pulse that led to a spark but it created a curse. A technique that all people in Japan gained. Or nothing at all—at least, as it was nothing visible to see. Those people became something else. Bodies honed beyond reason. Strength without cursed energy and monsters carved from flesh alone.
Two kinds of people defined the country now:
Awakened Sorcerers
and
Heavenly Restricted.
There was no in-between anymore.
The room was large, circular, and suffocatingly formal. Dark wood walls stretched upward into a domed ceiling etched with symbols from old jujutsu scripts—wards layered over wards, unnecessary in a room filled with veterans, but tradition mattered more than practicality here. Rows of seats descended toward a central stage. Every chair was occupied.
Men and women, all between their thirties and forties, dressed in modernized sorcerer uniforms or clan attire. Some bore scars. Some radiated cursed energy so dense it made the air feel thick. These were not students. These were the generation raised in the aftermath. And at the center, standing beneath a dim overhead light, was an old man.
His robes were layered, ancient in design, belonging to a clan that had survived long before the modern schools expanded into massive institutions. His voice carried without effort. “…and thus,” he said, hands folded behind his back, “Japan became what it is today.”
No one spoke, they were listening or pretending to. “It began,” the old man continued, “with the catastrophe known as The Culling Games. A disaster that reshaped the very foundation of jujutsu society.”
A few nods, a few tightened expressions. Everyone knew the name. “The cause,” the old man said, his tone sharpening, “was a boy. A vessel. A failure of control.” He let the silence stretch. “Itadori Yuji.”
A murmur rippled through the room—not of confusion, but of acknowledgment. Agreement. “That boy,” the old man went on, “harbored the King of Curses. Ryomen Sukuna. And in the final stages of the conflict, he lost control—whether through weakness or intention remains irrelevant.”
His gaze swept the audience. “The result was devastation. The death of countless sorcerers. And most notably—” He paused again. “The fall of Satoru Gojo.”
The room stiffened, even now, eleven years later, that name still carried weight. “The strongest sorcerer of the modern era… slain.”
No one interrupted and no one dared. “And so,” the old man concluded, “the world changed. The boundaries between curse and human blurred. Techniques spread. Awakening became inevitable. A new era was born—one built on the failure of a single individual. And if it were not for the intervention of Reizo Shinkage,” he added, voice lowering with reverence, “Japan may have collapsed entirely.”
That name carried a different kind of silence, there was respect but almost fear. “And that,” the old man said, turning slightly, “is the truth of how we came to be—”
“THAT’S NOT TRUE!”
The voice cut through the room like a blade. Her head turned, a girl stood halfway up the seating rows, fists clenched at her sides, shoulders shaking—not from fear, but from anger. She was small. Too small for a room like this. Black hair fell messily around her face, her eyes sharp and burning with something far too intense for an eleven-year-old.
“Yuji isn’t a traitor!” she shouted.
The room froze, recognition spread like wildfire. “…That’s—”
“Oh god, it’s Fushiguro’s kid.”
“Yume… right?”
“Of course it is.” She pouted.
Whispers layered over each other. The old man didn’t look surprised, only irritated. “Sit down,” he said flatly. “You will not interrupt—”
“He didn’t do that!” Yume snapped, her voice cracking but not faltering. “You’re lying! All of you are lying!”
The air shifted, some of the sorcerers frowned and others looked away. A few smirked, the old man’s expression hardened. “You will show respect.”
“Respect?” Yume barked. “You’re blaming him for everything! You weren’t even there!”
A soft laugh echoed from the stage. Not the old man. A woman stepped forward from the shadows behind him, heels clicking lightly against the floor. She was elegant. Composed. Her smile was sharp enough to cut. “Oh, how loud,” she said, tilting her head as she looked up at Yume. “Children really don’t understand when to stay quiet.”
Yume glared. “Shut up.”
A few gasps, the woman’s smile widened. “Disgusting,” she said lightly. “That attitude suits you.”
Yume’s hands tightened into fists. “What did you say?”
The woman clasped her hands behind her back, almost amused now. “Well,” she continued, voice carrying easily across the room, “it’s only natural. After all, you’re not exactly… normal, are you? You were born from a cursed technique,” the woman said. “A child forced into existence. Your own father didn’t even have you in a human way.”
A few uncomfortable shifts in the audience. “You’re a byproduct,” she added sweetly. “An anomaly.” Yume’s breathing grew heavier. “And let’s not forget,” the woman continued, “your bloodline.”
She took a step closer. “Your father—Megumi Fushiguro and your other father…” The room felt colder. “…Itadori Yuji.”
Yume didn’t flinch but the room reacted. Murmurs grew louder. “And on top of that,” the woman said, almost laughing now, “you’re connected to Maki Zenin—the woman who slaughtered her entire clan.” A few people nodded grimly. “Quite the family,” she finished. “Traitors, killers, and mistakes.”
Yume’s jaw clenched. “I don’t care,” she said. The words came out loud. “I don’t care what you say about me. But don’t talk about him like that.”
The old man exhaled slowly, clearly done. “Enough,” he said.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. “Remove her.”
Two guards moved immediately. Yume barely had time to react before one grabbed her arm. “Let go—!”
She struggled, but they were stronger. Experienced. “You are a child,” the old man said coldly. “And you will learn your place.”
“He’s not a traitor!” Yume shouted as they dragged her down the steps. “You’re all wrong! You don’t know anything!” No one stopped them and some watched while some avoided looking. The woman on stage only smiled. The doors opened and just like that. Yume was thrown out.
The doors slammed shut behind her. Cold air hit her face. For a moment, she just stood there. “...Tch.” She clicked her tongue, shoulders trembling. Not from fear from rage. “Stupid… idiots…” Her nails dug into her palms. She turned sharply and started walking. No destination needed. She knew where she was going home. Each step was heavy. Her thoughts are louder than the world around her.
Traitor.
Failure.
Monster.
“…Shut up,” she muttered. Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry. “They don’t know anything…” Her pace quickened. “I’ll prove it…” Her voice dropped to a growl. “I’ll prove all of them wrong.”
The city stretched before her—alive with cursed energy, filled with people like her, stronger than any generation before. A world built on a lie. And somewhere in it— The truth still existed. Yume clenched her fists tighter. “Just wait…” And kept walking.
The city never felt quiet anymore. Even when no one spoke, something always moved. Cursed energy hummed through the streets like electricity—buzzing in the air, crawling under skin, threading through buildings and people alike. It had become as natural as breathing. Yume walked through it like she didn’t belong.
Or maybe like she refused to. “HEY! STOP!”
A crash shattered the moment. Three figures darted through the street, knocking over a display of jewelry from a shattered storefront. Glass crunched under their feet as they ran, small velvet cases spilling open in their hands. “Split up!” one of them yelled.
Their cursed energy flared—not overwhelming, but sharp. Petty curse users, the kind that had just enough power to cause problems. One of them snapped his fingers— A flicker of light bent around his body, warping the air. His figure blurred, colors distorting as he almost vanished. Not true invisibility.
More like visual misdirection. Another slammed his palm against the ground mid-run, and a ripple of cursed energy spread outward—tiny shockwaves that disrupted footing, cracking pavement just enough to trip anyone chasing him. The third grinned wildly, clutching the stolen jewels as his fingers twitched—
Thin threads of cursed energy shot from his hands, latching onto street signs and poles, yanking him forward in jerky, unnatural bursts of speed. There were messy techniques and unrefined. But effective enough. Behind them were the cops. “Freeze!”
Gunshots rang out, not normal ones, the officers chasing them carried modified firearms—sleek, black, lined with engraved seals. Each shot fired wasn’t just a bullet, but a compressed burst of cursed energy. One blast clipped the ground near the thread-user, detonating in a sharp pulse that forced him to stumble.
Another grazed the distortion-user, disrupting his technique for a split second—his body snapping back into full view. “Damn it!” he cursed.
Yume didn’t stop, she didn’t even slow down. “…Same as always,” she muttered. Crime didn’t disappear when everyone got power. It just got louder and messier. She passed the chaos like it didn’t concern her. Because it didn’t, not today. Not when her head was already too full.
A soft chime rang as she pushed open a door. Warmth replaced the cold edge of the street instantly. The smell hit her first—fresh bread, sugar, something soft and familiar. “…Oh.”
Yume blinked, shoulders relaxing just a little. The bakery that her friends are in. She hadn’t even realized she’d walked here. Behind the counter, stacking trays neatly with practiced precision, stood a man in a clean apron over a familiar suit. He had blonde hair and slightly tired eyes but happy along with a straight posture. “Ah,” he said, glancing up. “Yume.”
She gave a small wave. “Hi, Mr. Nanami.”
Near him, a girl carefully arranged pastries in a display case, her movements deliberate and neat—almost identical to his. She looked up, her expression calm. “Hello, Yume,” she said politely.
“Hi, Aika,” Yume replied.
Aika Nanami gave a small nod before returning to her work. Nanami set down the tray in his hands. “It’s been a while,” he said. “The last time I saw you, you were… causing a disturbance.”
Yume rubbed the back of her neck, letting out an awkward laugh. “Heh… yeah, about that…”
Nanami’s eyes narrowed slightly. “…You did it again.”
Not a question, Yume’s smile dropped. “…Yeah.”
Silence settled between them for a moment. “They keep calling him a traitor,” she snapped suddenly, her voice tightening. “Everywhere. Every time. Like it’s just… normal.” Aika paused but didn’t look up. “They act like he destroyed everything,” Yume continued, her hands curling into fists. “Like he wanted it!” Her voice rose. “He didn’t! He became Sukuna’s vessel to protect my dad and everybody else! If he didn’t, then my dad would’ve—” She cut herself off, breathing uneven. “He saved everyone,” she said, quieter now, but sharper. “And this is what he gets?” Her eyes burned again. “They don’t know anything… they weren’t even there…”
Aika finally looked at her, expression steady. “You need to calm down,” she said gently. “Your cursed energy is rising.” Yume stiffened. “If you lose control,” Aika added, “your Dream Shadow Technique might activate.”
Yume clicked her tongue. “…I know.”
Aika studied her for a second longer, then gave a small nod. “I’ll be in the back,” she said, stepping away. “Call me if anything breaks.”
Yume huffed slightly. “Nothing’s gonna break…”
Still, she watched her go. Nanami exhaled slowly. “You carry too much anger for someone your age,” he said.
Yume didn’t argue because she knew it was true. “They’re wrong,” she said instead.
Nanami didn’t hesitate. “I know, Yuji was such a good kid and he doesn’t deserve this treatment in death.” That made her pause. He adjusted his glasses slightly. “But anger alone won’t change anything,” he continued. “If you keep confronting them like this, they’ll never listen.”
“They already don’t listen,” Yume muttered.
“…Then you need to become someone they can’t ignore.”
Yume looked up at him. Nanami’s gaze was steady. “Strength,” he said. “Control. Presence. Those are the things that force people to acknowledge the truth.”
A quiet beat passed. Before Yume could respond— The door chimed again. “I’m back.”
A boy stepped inside, closing the door behind him with quiet efficiency. He looked almost identical to Aika—same composed expression, same careful posture. “Welcome back, Chi,” Nanami said.
Chi Nanami nodded. “Hello, Father. Hello, Yume.”
“Hey,” Yume replied.
“I have debate materials to review,” he added calmly. “I’ll be upstairs.”
Without waiting, he walked past them and headed up the stairs. Yume watched him go. “…He’s nine, right?”
“Yes.”
“…He talks like he’s forty.”
Nanami didn’t disagree with that, chuckling under his breath. Yume sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly. “I just wish…” she started quietly, “…that the Higher-Ups never did this.”
Nanami’s expression darkened, just slightly. “They rewrote the world to suit themselves before they died,” he said. His voice was calm. But there was something underneath it. “I won’t accept that version of events,” he added. “And I won’t stop speaking against it.”
Yume looked at him. “…Even now?”
“Yes.”
Something in her chest tightened. Before she could think, she stepped forward and hugged him. Nanami stiffened for half a second and then rested a hand lightly on her head. “You’re not alone in this,” he said.
“Oh! Yume!”
A cheerful voice broke the moment. Yume pulled back as a woman hurried down the stairs, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face lit up the second she saw her. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
“Hello!,” Yume blinked.
The woman smiled warmly, the baker girl that Nanami married all those years ago. “I heard about what happened earlier—”
“…What?”
The woman pulled out her phone and showed her. A small news article, showing a blurry photo. Yume was dragged out of the meeting. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Her face flushed with anger. “That was fast—!”
Before she could spiral, she was pulled into a hug. “You shouldn’t be at places like that,” the woman said softly. “You’re still a child.”
Yume froze slightly. “…How did you even—”
“News spreads quickly now,” she said with a gentle laugh.
Yume groaned. “…Great.”
The woman pulled back, placing her hands on Yume’s shoulders. “You should go home,” she said. “Your father must be worried.”
Yume hesitated. Then smiled, just a little. “…Yeah.”
She turned toward the door. “Wait.”
Yume paused, Aika had returned, holding out a small bag. Inside—sweets. Freshly made. “For you,” she said simply.
Yume blinked. “…Really?”
Aika nodded. “Consider it emotional stabilization.”
Yume snorted slightly. “…You’re weird.”
“But correct.”
Yume took the bag. “…Thanks.”
She looked at all of them one more time. Then pushed the door open. The city’s noise rushed back in. But it didn’t feel as heavy now. “…I’ll prove it,” she muttered again, clutching the bag slightly tighter. Step by step, she started walking home.
The streets stretched on, louder the farther Yume walked. By the time she reached the bus stop, the noise had settled into something dull—background chaos instead of sharp distraction. Cars passed. People talked. Cursed energy flickered in the air like heatwaves. Yume dropped onto the bench, the small bag of sweets resting in her lap. “…Tch.”
She leaned back, staring up at the dim sky. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to hear anything. “—I’m telling you, it had to be planned.”
Her eyes shifted, there were two boys, maybe a few years older than her, walking past the bus stop. Seeing that they were teenagers, very loud and careless boys. “…There’s no way someone like that loses control by accident,” one of them continued. “He let Sukuna take over.”
“Yeah,” the other agreed. “I heard the reports too. They said he was probably working with him.”
Yume’s fingers tightened slightly around the bag. “They wiped out that many people?” the first boy scoffed. “That’s not an accident.”
“And didn’t they say Yuji’s connected to Sukuna somehow?” the second added. “Like—family or something?”
“Yeah, yeah. Some kind of blood relation. Makes sense, honestly.”
Yume stood up before she even realized it. “That’s not true!”
The boys stopped and turned, Yume’s chest rose and fell as she glared at them. “He didn’t want to be Sukuna’s vessel!” she snapped. “He did it to protect people! He saved my dad—he saved everyone!”
The boys blinked at her. Then one of them squinted. “…Wait.” Recognition hit them both. “…You’re—”
“That Megumi’s kid,” the other said.
Their expressions changed. “Ohhh,” the first boy smirked. “So you’re that freak girl.”
Yume’s jaw tightened. “Shut up!”
“Figures,” the second added. “No wonder you’re defending him.”
“Shut up,” Yume warned them again.
But they didn’t listen to her. “Yeah! You are that freak girl” the first boy said. “The one born from that weird cursed technique thing?”
“The Shadow Virus, right?” the other laughed. “Didn’t your dad literally—”
“STOP.”
Yume’s voice cracked through the air. But they kept going. “Man, that’s messed up,” the first boy continued. “Your dad was pregnant with you or something? That’s insane.”
“And now you’ve got two disgraceful dads?” the second snorted. “How does that even work?”
Yume’s hands shook. “Shut up…” she muttered.
But they leaned in closer, grinning. “So what,” one of them said, “is Sukuna your grandpa or something?”
Yume froze but that question— She couldn’t lie. Not about that. Her lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly… She nodded. “I guess… I don’t know.”
The boys exchanged a look. “…Yeah,” one of them said after a second, shrugging. “That tracks.”
The other glanced past her. “Hey,” he added casually, “you might wanna move.”
Yume blinked. “What—”
“Your bus.”
She turned— And there it was. The doors are already opening. “Oh no…!”
Yume ran to the bus. She didn’t look back. Didn’t say anything else. She rushed up the steps, quickly paying the fare before slipping into a seat near the window. The doors shut behind her. The bus began to move. Only then, she glanced outside as the boys stood there, laughing, making exaggerated faces through the glass, while they were mocking her.
Yume’s expression flattened. She raised her hand and flipped them off. Their laughter cut off instantly, replaced by offended shouts she couldn’t hear through the glass. “…Idiots.”
She sank back into her seat. The city rolled past. Minutes turned into an hour and then more. The ride was long—nearly an hour and a half—but she didn’t mind. It gave her time to breathe and to think. Eventually, she looked down at the bag in her hands. “…Right.”
She opened it carefully. Inside, there were soft and round sweets dusted lightly with powder. There was Daifuku inside the bag. Her fingers brushed against one before picking it up. It was slightly cool, soft to her mouth. She took a bite. Sweet red bean paste filled her mouth, gentle and warm despite its temperature.
For a moment, everything quieted. “…Mm.” She chewed slowly, staring out the window. It helped just a little.
By the time the bus stopped again, the city had changed. The kind of place that felt distant from everything else. Yume stepped off, adjusting the bag in her hands. She walked down a long road lined with trees, the air noticeably calmer here—less cursed energy, less noise. At the end of it, there was a gate.
It was tall and dark but simple, but expensive in a way that didn’t need to show off. She pushed it open. The path led to a house set back from the road. More modern but peaceful. Untouched by the history that had stained places like the Zenin estate. Megumi had made sure of that. Yume stepped through the front yard and stopped. “…Dad.”
Megumi was already there. Standing near the entrance, arms crossed, his expression calm—but his eyes gave him away. He had been waiting. “…You’re late,” he said.
Yume looked down slightly as she walked toward him. “Sorry…”
Megumi studied her for a moment. “Where were you?”
His voice wasn’t harsh. “…Out,” she muttered.
“I can see that,” he replied. “Where?”
Yume hesitated. “…At the meeting.”
Megumi’s gaze sharpened slightly. “…And?”
“…I yelled at them.”
“What did they say?”
Yume’s grip tightened on the bag. “The same stuff,” she said. “About him… about everything.”
Megumi was quiet. “They called him a traitor,” she continued. “Said he killed Gojo. Said he caused all of this.”
“And?” Megumi asked again.
“…They said I was a freak too.”
Megumi exhaled slowly. “…Did anyone hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did you use your technique?”
“…No.”
“Did you lose control?”
Yume shook her head. “…No.”
“…Good.” Megumi uncrossed his arms. “I understand why you’re angry,” he said. “I am too.” Yume looked up slightly. “I hate hearing them talk about him like that,” he continued. “But going to places like that—picking fights—you could get hurt.”
“…I know,” she said quietly.
“You’re eleven,” Megumi added. “You shouldn’t be fighting those battles yet.”
“…Sorry.”
Megumi’s expression softened just a little. Yume held out the bag. “…Aika gave this to me.”
Megumi blinked, then took it. “…I see.”
A small nod came from Megumi. “Thank her next time.”
“…Okay, I will.”
He turned toward the house. “Come on.” Yume followed behind him. The inside was quiet.
They walked down the hallway, past rooms filled with simple things—books, training space, pieces of a life built carefully away from everything else. Until they reached one door. Megumi slid it open. Inside, there was a small room. It was dimly lit and very clean. At the center sat a shrine.
Simple, but cared for. A framed photo rested within it. Showing Yuji’s picture. Yume stepped inside without a word. Megumi followed, closing the door behind them. They moved in sync, they were kneeling on the floor and straight backs as their hands were pressed together. The air felt different here.
Yume closed her eyes and Megumi lowered his head. No words were spoken at first. Just silence, the kind that carried meaning on its own. Then, Megumi exhaled quietly. “…We’re home.”
Yume’s hands tightened slightly. “…Yeah.” They stayed like that for a while, they were praying and remembering Yuji. Honoring someone the world had turned into a lie— But to them was still the truth.
The room stayed quiet. Not the empty kind of quiet— But the kind that held weight. Time passed slowly as Yume and Megumi remained kneeling in front of the shrine. The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, curling upward in thin trails that seemed to disappear before they reached the ceiling.
Thirty minutes, neither of them rushed it and neither of them needed to. Yume kept her eyes closed most of the time, her hands pressed together tightly, her thoughts drifting in fragments—memories she didn’t fully have, feelings she couldn’t quite explain. After a while, she shifted slightly. “…Oh.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a few folded bills. Carefully, she leaned forward and placed the money at the base of the shrine. Megumi opened his eyes and he looked at the offering. Then at her. “…Yume.”
She glanced up. “What dad?”
Megumi’s expression softened—just a little. “If he were here,” he said quietly, “he wouldn’t accept that.”
Yume blinked. “…Huh?”
Megumi exhaled faintly, looking at the photo for a moment before speaking again. “He’d probably laugh,” he said. “Then tell you to spend it on something for yourself.”
Yume tilted her head slightly. “Really?”
Megumi nodded. “He wasn’t the type to want things like that,” he added. “Especially not from you.”
Yume stared at the money for a second. Then, a small smile formed. “…Yeah. That sounds like him.”
She reached forward and picked the money back up and looked back at the frame “…Sorry dad.”
Megumi didn’t respond but there was something quieter in his expression now. Something lighter for him, They stayed there just a little longer. Then Megumi stood. “Let’s go,” he said. Yume followed behind him.
Dinner was already set by the time they reached the table. Carefully prepared, A maid stood quietly off to the side, bowing slightly as they took their seats before stepping away without a word. Yume picked at her food for a moment before starting to eat properly. Megumi watched her briefly. “After dinner,” he said, “we’ll train.”
Yume paused mid-bite. “…Do we have to?”
Megumi didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
She sighed. “I just trained yesterday…”
“Your technique isn’t stable enough to skip,” he replied. “It’s rare. That means it’s dangerous.”
Yume puffed her cheek slightly. “You always say that.”
“And I’ll keep saying it until you stop losing control.”
She huffed. “…You didn’t lose control of yours.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow. “I did,” he said plainly.
Yume blinked. “…You did?”
Megumi nodded once. “The Ten Shadows Technique isn’t something you master easily,” he said. “It takes time. Discipline.”
Yume leaned forward slightly. “…Can you tell me something?”
Megumi glanced at her. “…About you and him and Ms. Nobara too.”
Megumi’s expression shifted—just barely. “…You don’t remember much,” he said.
Yume shook her head. “…Just little things.”
Megumi exhaled softly. “…Alright.” He leaned back slightly in his chair. “There was a time,” he began, “when the three of us went to a mall.”
Yume’s eyes lit up slightly. “Ms. Nobara insisted on it.”
“…Of course she did,” Yume muttered.
Megumi almost smiled. “She said it was ‘essential for mental health,’” he continued. “Which really meant she wanted to shop.”
Yume giggled. “That sounds like her.”
“She bought clothes,” Megumi said. “Shoes. Accessories. Things she didn’t need.”
“And you carried them?” Yume asked.
“…Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
Yume laughed. “What about Yuji?”
Megumi sighed faintly. “He carried even more.”
Yume laughed harder. “I knew it!”
Megumi shook his head slightly. “She didn’t stop either,” he added. “Every store we passed, she went in.”
“That’s because she loves shopping,” Yume said proudly. “She always gets new clothes on holidays and birthdays.”
Megumi rubbed his temple slightly. “…I’m aware.”
Yume grinned at her dad. For a moment— It felt normal. Then, the door opened. “I’m back.”
Yume turned. “Auntie Tsumiki!”
Tsumiki stepped inside, she was slipping off her shoes as she entered, her posture relaxed but clearly tired. Megumi stood slightly. “Welcome back.”
She smiled softly. “Thanks.”
She walked over and immediately leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on Yume’s head. “Hi,” she said warmly. “What did you do today?”
Yume froze. “…Uh…”
She slowly leaned back in her chair. “…You already know. Do you?”
Tsumiki blinked. “…It’s already online.”
Yume groaned. “…Of course it is.”
Tsumiki pulled out her phone briefly, then set it aside. “You have to stop doing that,” she said gently but firmly. “That’s not the right way to prove anything.”
Yume looked down. “…I know.”
“It’s dangerous,” Tsumiki added. “And it won’t change their minds like that.”
“…Sorry.”
Tsumiki softened slightly. “Just be more careful,” she said before sitting down. “Okay?”
“…Okay.”
Dinner continued quietly after that. The calm settled back in. After a few minutes, Yume finished eating and leaned back slightly. “I think I’m gonna go to the library,” she said. “I wanna read.”
Megumi didn’t even look up. “Training first.”
Yume groaned. “…Dad.”
“Training,” he repeated.
“Reading helps too,” she argued weakly.
“Not more than control.”
Yume slumped slightly in her chair. “…Fine.”
Megumi finally glanced at her. “After that, you can read as much as you want.”
She sighed dramatically. “…Deal.”
Megumi stood. “Finish up.”
Yume looked at her empty plate. “…Already did.”
“…Then let’s go.”
She dragged herself up from her seat. “…I regret saying anything.”
Tsumiki smiled faintly as she watched them. “Don’t overdo it,” she called.
Megumi paused slightly. “I won’t.”
Yume muttered under her breath— “…He will.” And followed him out.
Five hours, that’s how long it lasted. Five hours of nonstop training—no real breaks, no shortcuts, no mercy. By the time the sun had started to dip, painting the sky in fading gold and dull orange, Yume was barely standing. “…I—can’t…” she wheezed.
Her legs shook as she tried to stay upright, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides. Sweat clung to her skin, her breathing uneven and sharp. Across from her, Megumi stood still. Not even winded at all. “Again,” he said.
Yume stared at him like he’d just committed a crime. “…You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.” She groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face. “I’ve been doing this forever…”
“Five hours,” Megumi corrected.
“That’s forever!”
Megumi didn’t respond to that.
“Focus,” he said instead. “Your cursed energy is still unstable.”
Yume clenched her fists, forcing herself to straighten. “…Fine.”
She closed her eyes and tried to gather it again. That strange, heavy feeling in her chest—like something was always there, waiting to spill out. It flickered as it rose. Then it burst out unevenly, flaring around her in jagged waves. “Stop.”
Megumi’s voice cut through instantly. Yume dropped it, gasping slightly. “…See?” he said. “You’re forcing it.”
“I’m trying!” she snapped weakly.
“And that’s the problem,” he replied. “You’re trying too hard.”
Yume stared at him. “…That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will.”
She didn’t believe him. But she didn’t argue either. Because she was too tired. Her legs finally gave out and she dropped to her knees. “…Okay, no more,” she muttered. “I’m done. I’m actually done.”
Megumi watched her for a moment. “…Alright.”
Yume blinked. “…Wait, really?”
“Yes.”
She immediately flopped forward onto the ground. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
Megumi exhaled quietly before walking over. “You’ve improved,” he said. “You can summon your cursed energy now.”
Yume groaned into the ground. “Yeah… but I can’t control it…”
“Not yet.”
“That’s bad.”
“It’s expected.”
Yume rolled onto her back, staring up at the darkening sky. “I hate training.”
Megumi crouched beside her, already pulling out bandages. “You’ll hate it less when you stop getting injured.”
She winced as he started wrapping her arm. “…Ow.”
“You’re fine.”
“I’m not fine, I’m dying.”
“You’re not.”
Yume huffed, then paused as Megumi placed a hand against the ground and cursed energy shifted. A shadow spread beneath them and from it a gentle, glowing form emerged. A deer, it was elegant and calm as it was radiating a soft, soothing energy. “…Whoa…”
Yume pushed herself up slightly. “That’s—”
“Round Deer,” Megumi said.
The shikigami stepped closer, its presence warm and steady. Light flowed from it, wrapping around Yume’s body. The aches dulled and the soreness faded. Even the dizziness eased. “…Oh wow,” Yume breathed. “That feels way better…”
Round Deer lowered its head slightly, as if acknowledging her. Yume smiled. “…Can I see the others?”
Megumi paused. “…Not all of them.”
“Why not?”
“Some are dangerous.”
Yume pouted slightly. “…That’s not fair.”
“It’s necessary.”
She crossed her arms. “…Which ones can I see?”
Megumi considered for a moment. “…Maybe a few.”
Yume perked up immediately. “I wanna see Serpent!”
“…No.”
“Aww—why?”
“It’s not as docile.”
“…Fine. Then Nue!”
Megumi raised an eyebrow. “…Why Nue?”
Yume grinned. “I like birds.” A small pause. “…And snakes,” she added.
Megumi blinked. “…Of course you do.”
“What?” she said defensively. “They’re cool.”
“…I prefer dogs more.”
“That’s because you’re boring, dad.”
Megumi sighed. “I’m not boring.”
“You totally are.” “…Enough.”
Yume clasped her hands together. “Please?”
Megumi stared at her and she didn’t back down. “…Just Nue,” he said finally.
Yume lit up. “Yes!”
Megumi raised his hand slightly and the shadows shifted again along with a sharp crack of energy, as a large winged form appeared above them. It was Nue that appeared. Its presence was powerful, but restrained, lightning faintly crackling along its feathers. Yume’s eyes sparkled. “…It’s so cool…”
Nue lowered slightly, watching her. Then, Yume walked right up to it and hugged it. Megumi froze. “…Yume.”
Nue stiffened but didn’t react aggressively. “…You shouldn’t—”
“It’s soft,” Yume said, completely ignoring him as she pressed her face into its feathers.
Megumi stared. “That’s not the point.”
Nue let out a low sound but remained still. “You’re unbelievable,” Megumi muttered.
Yume grinned. “I like this one.”
“…I can tell.”
After a moment, Megumi dispelled it. The space felt quieter again. Yume stretched slightly. “…Okay. I feel better now.”
Megumi stood. “Good. Go take a shower.”
Yume groaned. “…Can I read first?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re covered in sweat and dirt.”
“…That’s rude.”
“It’s accurate.”
Yume sighed dramatically.
“…Fine.” She pushed herself up, dragging her feet slightly as she headed inside. “I’m reading after this.”
“Yes.”
“And you can’t stop me.”
“I won’t.”
“…Good.” She disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom. The door closed as silence returned.
Megumi stood there for a moment. Then exhaled from his pocket, he pulled out something small. A figure that was worn slightly from time. A Human Earthworm character—cheap plastic, a little scratched, but clearly taken care of. He looked at it quietly. “…You’d like her,” he said. His voice was low now and different. “She’s loud and stubborn.” A faint pause for a minute. “…Like you.”
He turned the figure slightly in his hand. “She’s trying,” he added. “Harder than she should have to.” The wind moved softly through the yard. “I don’t know if I’m doing this right… You’d probably be better at it.”
His grip tightened slightly. “She defends you every chance she gets. They hate you for something you didn’t do.” His eyes lowered. “…Nothing’s changed.”
The world stayed the same. Just dressed differently. “Even if you were here…” he murmured, “…it’d still be like this.”
Megumi closed his eyes briefly. “…I’ll make sure she learns.” His voice steadied again. “She’ll control it. She won’t be swallowed by it.” He looked at the small figure one last time. “…So just—” A pause that the air breezed at him. “…Watch over her.” Megumi slipped it back into his pocket. The house behind him remained quiet. But for the first time that day things felt still, not peaceful but steady enough to keep going.
Meanwhile, Yume quietly walked through the hallway, still sore from training. Every step reminded her of the five straight hours Megumi had put her through. Her arms hurt. Her legs hurt. Even her fingers felt exhausted. “I’m never surviving tomorrow,” she muttered.
The bathroom was down the hall. She fully intended to go there. But as she passed the library, a faint light flickered beneath the door. Yume paused. “…Huh?”
Yume’s dad usually turned the lights off. Slowly, a smirk spread across her face. “…No way.”
She glanced down the hallway once. Then carefully stepped toward the door and slipped inside. The library was huge, the reason why she loved it so much. Not just because Megumi had money—but because books mattered in this house. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with old records, novels, journals, cursed technique studies, history texts, and things far older than modern society.
The room smelled like paper and dust. It was so warm and comforting near the far shelves— Something moved, there was a small shikigami floating quietly between rows of books. It was strange-looking, almost doll-like, draped in layered paper charms with long arms and glowing eyes hidden beneath a hood. Several books floated around it carefully, suspended by cursed energy.
Yume immediately recognized it. “Oh,” she whispered. “Miss Coco, you’re here!”
The shikigami tilted its head as it nodded. This one belonged to her friend in school. Her friend’s technique specialized around memory collection and recorded stories. The shikigami itself wandered through libraries, archives, old storage rooms, and abandoned collections, gathering books connected to important events, emotions, or perspectives.
It collected stories and apparently it had brought another one. The shikigami slowly held out a book toward her. Yume blinked. “…For me?”
It nodded once, the book looked old. Not ancient—but worn in the way something important became worn. The cover was dark, with faded lettering barely visible beneath scratches and age. Yume carefully took it. “…Thanks.”
The shikigami bowed slightly before floating away deeper into the shelves. Yume looked down at the book. Her heartbeat quickened a little. Because she already knew what it was about. She could feel it. Quietly, she moved toward the back of the library. Past the taller shelves and past the reading tables.
Until she reached a section near the corner. She knelt down and carefully pulled aside part of the rug beneath a desk. Under it was a small hidden door. It was her hideout that she goes to without her aunt and father knowing. Yume grinned slightly and lifted it open before climbing down inside.
The space beneath the floor wasn’t large, but it was hers. She had blankets and pillows there. Along with stacks of hidden snacks. There were even flashlights to help her read. Books piled in uneven towers on the side. There were even drawings that were taped against the walls. A small little world hidden underneath the library where Megumi pretended not to know she spent time in. Yume dropped into her corner and shut the hatch above her. Darkness settled briefly.
Click.
Her flashlight turned on, giving the warm light that filled the small space. She adjusted herself comfortably, pulling a blanket around her legs before placing the book carefully in front of her. For a moment, she just stared at it. Then slowly, she opened it as the pages revealed names she knew instantly.
Her father, Megumi.
Her other father, Yuji.
Ms. Nobara.
The Strongest Sorcerer, Gojo.
Ms. Maki.
And everyone else, every person she loved. Every person connected to the story the world kept twisting into lies. Yume’s expression slowly changed. She had curiosity to see the beginning of the story. There was excitement that she wanted to know the full story. Something deeper that carefully was inside her, she turned the first page. The flashlight glowed softly in the darkness as she settled in deeper against the pillows—
And began to read.