Juchu Kaisen - 53

Chapter 53

To my silent amusement, four hours of listening to old men bloviate about politics was enough to make Shoko nod off several times. I crawled a Juchū under her clothes and used it to sting her back to wakefulness every time. Her own embarrassment and shyness in front of all the old people in attendance kept her from acting out.

Still, her presence had been useful to me. I revealed to them that she was a healer—and my friend. This had the effect of making even the holdouts among the clanners all the more eager to follow whatever party line I dictated.

My entire pitch boiled down to the fact that I was a better representative of their wishes than Jujutsu HQ was, and that together, we could more than rival the Big Three and see to it that their demands could be met.

It was a shame, however, that their demands were largely quite… gauche.

They wanted talent. Specifically, they wanted to adopt talented sorcerers and bind them in chains of marriage to their clans. They had set their sights on the students of both Jujutsu Highs.

Times like these, I remembered that my only enemy weren’t the Big Three. It was the culture itself. I set some boundaries, advising the minor clans to not make any moves to ‘recruit’ anyone younger than the age of eighteen, and even then, without any strings of marriage attached. I sincerely disliked the idea of anyone dictating anyone’s future marriage prospects based on politics. It was distasteful, and also plainly, not likely to work, and only likely to cause further separation between the newblood and the old guard.

In this aspect, I acted as a cultural ambassador bridging the students with the minor clans in understanding. The clans needed manpower, and the students needed a foot into the world of Jujutsu. And the more students entered the clans, the more modernized the clans would become by sheer virtue of having to accommodate the newcomers.

At least, that would have to be the case if they wanted to retain the newcomers. The aesthetic of old Japan was well and good enough for most people in the country, even the children—but the traditional values were becoming increasingly divorced from modernity.

Of course, this news was all very painful, which was why I had to drip feed it to the minor clans in the span of four entire hours, during which they would occasionally go on spirited rants about such fantastical things as pride and honor—before, eventually, settling on reality.

And it was easy to keep the story of ‘reality’ straight when you were strong. No one dared to gainsay me.

After the conference ended, Shoko bent backwards to crack her back as we walked out of the hotel’s building. “That was awful. And boring.”

“It was tamer than most meetings I have with elders,” I said. “For one, they came to me for something. That gave me leave to say whatever I wanted and they could do nothing about it.” And unlike the Big Three, they didn’t even have an answer to my conventional military prowess in the form of my sorcerers, let alone myself. They were at the end of their rope.

“I’m hungry,” Shoko said. I smiled at her.

“Sushi?”

“Yum!”

“Then onto our next meeting,” I said.

000

The Women’s Union was in an interesting position of existing, but not having enough external pressure to remain perfectly cohesive. Largely, the organization was still a secret—even though the faculty knew of it. We just made it an internal rule not to tell any of the boys just yet.

The majority of the girls were there because I had essentially scared them into seeing the necessity of it. And the necessity was rooted in real fact. Still, it was all too easy for victims of normalized abuse to minimize their own experiences. The myth that women could take more pain than men was, in itself, a point of pride for many suffering women. It gave them the impression that suffering was something they were uniquely capable of, and thus it was something to take pride in.

I could see the truth of society’s many lies. A select few others could, as well.

Just not everyone. And that was fine. They would come around in time—but only if we kept the narrative straight.

That was why I had sought out Mukai to set up a ‘secret council’ of a sort, not to amass power, but to ensure a plurality of voices. A union within the union, designed specifically to stop it from devolving into chaos. While democracy was well and good, the undisputable fact was that not every idea deserved consideration. Indeed, one should earn the right to share an idea.

Such a thing was impossible to properly enforce without delving into more tyrannical methods, however. Still, I was five steps ahead. I knew at some point, some reactionary demagogue would rise up and rile up the girls for one reason or another. Perhaps they had been paid off by the Big Three, or perhaps they wanted a slice of the Union for themselves? Maybe they selfishly desired to simply be recognized as a leader—even in an environment where there should be no leaders?

Either way, I was already onto this imaginary foe, and I wouldn’t let her get the better of me.

The meeting room in Jujutsu High was small, capable of only comfortably fitting a dozen or two people. It was smaller than a classroom, definitely.

Mukai Reiko was wearing a track suit. Her gray hair was kept in a long ponytail, and her arms were folded as she welcomed Shoko and I into the room.

Inside sat a few grownups, two wearing pantsuits that marked them as assistant managers, and three with the golden spiral pin on their chest, marking them as sorcerers.

The Jujutsu campuses of both Tokyo and Kyoto were frequently used as bases of operation for even the grown-up sorcerers. There, they would even occasionally scout for, and recruit, promising protégés.

Aside from Shoko, Mukai and I, there were two more students. From the fourth year. One wore glasses and looked very straight-laced, while another had red and pink highlights on her hair.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” I began without further ado as I bowed to my elders. “I won’t mince any words. This is a labor union. What this means, is that we combine our voices together to the point that we cannot be ignored by our employers. This is also a women’s union. This means that women’s issues are at the forefront. Any case that involves discrimination and a lack of appropriate, respectful accommodations, fall within the purview of this union. Discussion and debate is encouraged, but when a consensus has been reached, we will all be in support of the agenda—regardless of whether or not we voted for it. That is what it means to be a union.”

One of the sorcerers, a thin woman with sharp, angular facial features, snorted at me. “You take a rather high and mighty tone when you’re talking to your seniors.”

“If I’m being curt, it’s because I admire the American culture of cutting out the bullshit,” I said. “But don’t take my attitude as rudeness. My intentions are not nearly that petty.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Alright, punk. What do you know about women’s issues anyway?” Her name was Yuko. Mitsuri Yuko, Semi-Grade One, and a renegade from the Kamo clan. Her career as a Jujutsu Sorcerer had been a tumultuous one, rife with sabotage from her own clan, and blowouts with the higher-ups that almost threatened to escalate into disciplinary action.

“I imagined you’ve had quite a few already,” I said. “I imagined you’d feel strongly enough about the injustice of it all to deserve an elevated voice in our fellowship. That’s your answer.”

She huffed. “File says you’re fourteen. And before you begin—I know that you’re the head of your clan, and that you’re a Special Grade. What I want to know is what you’ve dealt with.”

“Women’s issues,” I repeated, humming slightly. “I did grow up in a clan of curse users that sought to forcibly strip my rights from me—and almost assassinated me in the process—, so my perception might be a little more extreme than yours. One thing it certainly has is clarity. For example: it’s not just Jujutsu Society that treats women with such naked contempt. It’s a societal problem that plagues much of the world.” For all that my erstwhile planet was awful, Earth Bet did at least make an effort to promote equality. All that could be attributed to the fact that women manifested more powers than men.

Which, in turn, could be attributed to the fact that women were made to suffer more than men.

Still, power was the answer.

“I won’t be satisfied even if Jujutsu HQ suddenly revolutionizes and becomes every bit as progressive as Japan’s current government. Obviously, this should not be a surprise, but there’s always the perception that the grass is greener on the other side when it isn’t. Some of us in the Union might be satisfied if the powers that be offered us more comfortable conditions while fulfilling their own goals—a comfortable home as they incubate the next generation of preferably male sorcerers for the big clans. Protections, even. Many of us would accept becoming broodmares for the Gojo, Zen'in or Kamo, if it meant a lack of strife. To give up autonomy for safety.”

One of the students, the straight-laced girl with the glasses known as Mariko, spoke up then. “To become a mother is not a shameful act. Why do you make it sound so animalistic and demeaning?”

“If you want a family, make a family,” I said. “Respect yourselves. Ensure that the family you marry into isn’t crawling with monsters who see you as subhuman. If the best someone can offer you is a lack of oppression from their own family, why take that offer at all? And make no mistake—these offers will be released in time. The clans want us. They want us in the way that a farmer wants a prized cow. If you think that and ‘becoming a mother’ is equivalent, you’re naïve. There’s a difference. I have seen horrors beyond most of your imaginations, which is why I know that very few of the people in the Union will ever take my warnings seriously, despite how spirited they are.” I looked around the room. “Even now, I can see the doubt in your eyes. I know that the grownups among you have likely already experienced a degree of discrimination as it is, but you ask yourselves: can it really get so much worse? It can. And it will if we don’t take this seriously enough.”

“Good grief,” Mukai chuckled, rubbing the top of her head sheepishly. “Tsukumo-senpai should have sat in here. It’s a shame she couldn’t make it.”

Tsukumo Yuki, the first Special Grade of our generation. Also a generational layabout that refused to take any jobs to exorcise cursed spirits. I admired her willfulness, though I’d like to meet her one day. Hopefully sooner rather than later. It would be nice to have another female Special Grade in the Union.

I gestured to the adults. “As for you, I’d like it if you could court more grownups for our organization. We need a contingent of adults in the Union if we want our demands to be met.”

“And how will they be met?” one of the assistant managers asked. “We can’t exactly go on strike, or people will die.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “If we’re derelict in our duties, people will die. So how do we ensure that the powers that be hear us even if they remain stubborn and mulish?”

The room was silent.

As it should be. The question was difficult to answer. And for me to answer it for them would be political suicide on my part.

“Think on that,” I said. I moved on. “As for my fellow students—let us be in agreement of one thing, at the very least: the Women’s Union is a vital necessity for the betterment of Jujutsu Society for all working women within. Whether or not the agenda is comprehensible in the present moment, our efforts—and our cohesion,” I emphasized the last part, “is vital. We just need to stick together. Keep ourselves focused on productive agendas. Veer away from base satisfactions like hatred and bigotry, and frivolous pursuits of revenge and retributive justice. Whatever pain you feel from what they’ve done to hurt us—you cannot take any actions that endangers the mission. At the end of the day, our mission will be a success once we fold in the other half of society: the men.”

Yuko snorted again. “That’s a pipe dream and you know it. Why would they even give a damn about our issues? They never have before.”

Shoko giggled. “The power of friendship?”

The room chuckled softly.

“That what the kids call it these days?” the Yuko grinned lecherously, sticking her tongue out, redoubling the humor in the air.

“The reasonable among them will have no reason to rebuff us,” I said. “As long as we don’t fall into bigotry and foster an adversarial relationship with them. I view the boys as troubled, but not fundamentally incapable of sympathizing with us.”

“That’s naïve,” Yuko said.

“They will sympathize,” I repeated. “Whether they come around to it, or if we force them to, like I did to my own clan. Either way, we will need them.”

Mukai raised a hand and spoke. “So that’s what we’re here for—to… shepherd everyone and keep the conversation on-topic.”

“Essentially,” I said. “You’re here to prevent the rise of bad actors. That isn’t to say that we have more authority. We just have more numbers saying the same thing, and enough social capital to be heard over anyone else. For now, that will be enough.”

And hopefully, it would be overkill to boot.

Not that I cared. Overkill was better than underkill, and I wasn’t in the habit of losing due to under-preparation.

000

While I watched Shoko do laps around the training field, the sun finally settling over the horizon, signaling the coming of night, I felt Gojo teleport right next to me, on the bench that I sat in.

“Ooh, nice kimono,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said.

I was mostly over the heartbreaking revelation that Gojo was, in fact, a frivolous fourteen-year-old who had no care for complex subjects. He’d grow out of it in time, for certain. And I had been the one who had insisted on taking his ‘strongest’ title from him as I felt that he wasn’t deserving of it.

“Now,” he began, “a little birdie told me that you and the girls made your own girl’s club.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“So I snuck into the teacher’s office and rifled through some documents, and lo and behold—you and every other girl in Jujutsu High goes to a club known as the ‘Jujutsu Women’s Union’!”

I clenched my teeth. Dammit.

“And I must say: that’s really cool!” he laughed. “I support it one-hundred percent. You girls should really show those old bastards what’s what!”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Thought you’d be more excited to hear me support you,” Gojo said. “I mean—obviously, this was your idea, right? Who else would be behind something so ballsy?”

I nodded. “You know, Gojo—you’re right. I do appreciate the support. I suppose I was already counting on it. I couldn’t imagine you being against it.”

“Heh,” he smirked. “I do fancy myself as a champion of the downtrodden. And with my support, you guys can do anything! On that note, let me join the Women’s Union.”

Eurgh!

“No. No a million times. Don’t ask again.”

“Ugh! Come on, why you gotta be so harsh?”

“I’m serious, Gojo. Don’t ask me again.”

“This is discrimination!”

“That’s not funny.”

“Why not, though? Can I at least get an explanation, oh mighty empress Teira?”

I inhaled. “Alright—you want an explanation? I would let you join, eventually. But even then, I’d ask you to shut up and not say anything. You’d be there purely as an observer. Listening, but not talking.”

Gojo blinked. “O-okay? And why can’t I do even that much?”

“Because the Union is still new,” I said. “We’re still figuring things out. Still making plans and organizing. And your presence would distract too much from that.”

“But I wouldn’t say anything!”

“You’re Gojo Satoru,” I said. That explained everything. “You’re a political entity, no matter how much you try to shy away from it. If you involve yourself in this, you will be doing politics. And you will be a presence too great to ignore. And I don’t need that right now. What I need is a safe space.”

Gojo frowned. “A safe space? Like, no one disagreeing? Isn’t it a little weak if you don’t even have the resolve to discuss topics with people who disagree with you, or might offer a different viewpoint?”

“And so what if it is?” I widened my orbs to their limits, hoping to transmit the intensity of my blind gaze towards him. “Does weakness equate to wrongness? Does might make right? Are you right because your voice is the loudest? Or the most obstinate? Or the best at debating? Don’t make me laugh, Gojo. None of this means anything. All that matters is the truth. The sky is blue. True or false?”

He blinked in befuddlement at that. Then, he smirked. “Well, it depends—“

I had no time for his nonsense, so I amended my statement. “In the middle of the day, when there are no clouds in the sky, no solar eclipse, and the atmosphere consists mostly of nitrogen, oxygen, argon, carbon dioxide and trace gasses, then you’re likely to observe that the sky is blue. Argue and I will actually just kill you,” I dared him.

He closed his mouth with an audible click and nodded. “Alright. True, then,” he muttered.

“Alright. Can I be blamed for wanting to create a space for my fellow,” I rolled my orbs, “’blue-sky truthers’ who won’t make ridiculous arguments about the color of the sky? People who see the truth for what it is? Can you blame me for not wanting to invite idiots who accuse people like us of having defective eyes, for being color-blind, for not taking into account the fucking time of the day like that is even relevant to the fact that the sky is just fucking blue, goddammit. And if I want to discuss the nuances of the sky’s color and how it might change from time to time, I’ll do it with them because I’m confident that we’d be discussing in good faith. But I don’t need anyone that argues against the fundamental point just to spite me—like you almost tried to do. Do you understand?”

Gojo pouted, not meeting my eyes before nodding. “I still don’t understand why an opposing viewpoint won’t help.”

“Because I’m not dealing with people that are confident that their own interpretation of the world is right in the first place. Women have been made to doubt our realities from birth. We get mocked, harassed, and beaten about, and when we complain, we’re told that it never even happened. And when we can prove that it did, we’re told that it wasn’t that bad. When we can prove that it was that bad, then we get told that it’s not a social problem, that it’s an isolated incident, that no action needs to be taken beyond just that isolated incident. No system needs to be put in place. Do you have any idea what that does to you, Gojo? Can you even fathom the feeling of being weak and ignored? At all?”

His frown was more shameful now. Good.

“We’re figuring things out, Gojo. We’re… getting on the same page. Accepting reality for how ugly it is. Growing that resolve that you so ‘desperately’ want us to have.”

“You want them frustrated,” Gojo said. “Right?”

It was what it boiled down to. “You’re right—I am cultivating their anger. Growing it like a plant. The more we understand and accept the world as it is and not just how we are told that it is, the more we trust our own eyes, the angrier we’ll get. And the more confident we’ll get. You can join after that. You can join when I and a select few others aren’t the only people able to speak up. You can join once I’m confident that the rest can hold their own against idiots who tell us to doubt that the sky is blue. Do you understand, Gojo? This has nothing to do with you as a person. I know that you mean well, but this is something that we need. Please don’t take it personally. We just don’t have space for you.”

He nodded. “Very well, then. I understand. Sorry I made you angry.”

I groaned. “It’s good to talk, I guess. Even if it’s exhausting. I’m not exactly the patient type.”

As far as approaches to societal change went, this was way outside of my wheelhouse. I wasn’t used to dealing with dissent with a soft hand. It was frustrating, just having to talk instead of be more forceful.

It reminded me of how much work I had ahead of me, in order for things to change. I’d be at this for decades at this rate.

Gojo chortled. “When did patience ever get anyone anywhere?”

I smirked. “True.”

000

“The answer is violence.”

Shoko said that to me during one of our evening meditation sessions in my bedroom. She had gotten her practice in with healing me, and was currently trying to connect more deeply to her cursed energy via deep self-reflection.

All the while, she practiced light calisthenics, lifting her body off the floor with both index fingers, her leg stretched horizontally to one side, while her other leg was bent such that her heel was almost up to her crotch.

She was using minimal cursed energy to achieve this feat. Flexibility, strength, mobility. The Reverse Cursed Technique had granted her a monstrous body.

I was sitting cross-legged, spacing out, when she asked the question.

I knew what she was referring to. The answer to the question I posed—what would make a good protest.

We couldn’t forsake our duties. Lives were on the line. Neither could we let our demands go ignored.

“That’s right,” I said.

“…but to who?”

“Whoever’s in charge,” I said. Then I nodded. “Even if it kills them. Even if it kills us. That’s a price we should be willing to pay for fair treatment. It’s a price that so many have paid for fair treatment in the past.”

And I could just do it by myself.

And then be branded a monster. The old guard would return with replacements, and my allies would revile me for my brutality.

The only way for this ‘thing’ of ours to have any staying power was if someone other than me was willing to kill for it. If someone other than me did kill for it, or die for it.

“It won’t be our fault,” I stopped myself from saying ‘when’, “if it happens. They’d have forced our hands. It would be the last resort, after our every effort to talk things out would go ignored.”

“You’re certain it will happen,” Shoko whispered. She took one finger off the floor, and quaked slightly in imbalance as she fought to regain her composure.

“The Hibana clan went for the kill against me because I was impressive. An impressive eight-year-old, put to death because of her gender. I know how these rotten old men think. They’ll beg us to adhere to their sense of normalcy, of what is just, of what is right. Even in their own heads, they won’t be able to compute what pissed us off so badly. How can you communicate that the sky is blue to someone who is blind, Shoko? Especially if your life hinges on the transmission of that fact?”

“If there’s no time, then…” she trailed off as she whirled her body so her legs pointed to the other side, still using just one finger to hold herself up.

Violence was inevitable.

All that mattered was that we would be doing that violence together, or nothing would change.

A/N: Y'all really thought it would be a pure democracy? Come on. This is Taylor we're talking about. Her idea of everyone working together is her calling the shots and everyone else just listening.