Juchu Kaisen - 54

(Version 2: more angst)

Patch notes: I felt that the class' reaction to the Geto/Ito fight was too conspicuous in its absence, so I added that part at the start of the chapter. Other than that, nothing else is new or edited.

Chapter 54

Kobayashi Jun had heard increasingly insane stories as the days passed, before the fated Monday finally arrived, where—presumably—he would be briefed on what exactly happened in Geto and Ito’s ill-fated mission.

Some of the tales were hair-raisingly terrifying, and he had caught his own fair share of glimpses of Ito’s face over the weekend, now sporting a long scar that ran down her face vertically, covering her forehead, left eye and cheek. He had seen his fair share of scars on the older Jujutsu Sorcerers that sometimes made their return to Jujutsu High to accept new assignments, but seeing one on his classmate suddenly made the reality of their line of work realer.

Along with her appearance, he had also gotten a measure of her aura using his Coward’s Dance. Her short range of five feet in every direction was now several shades of a darker red, and her fists were so red as to almost be black.

And it wasn’t as if Jun had failed to grow stronger since he first saw her, either. The Coward’s Dance measured threats relative to his own level of power. This meant that Ito’s growth had outpaced his own.

He was falling behind.

Homeroom was just about to begin. Everyone, except for Ito and Yaga-sensei, were present and accounted for.

Finally, the two arrived, Yaga in front and Ito following behind, wearing a… grin. A small, innocent grin that looked somewhat foreign on Ito, who was perennially withdrawn and shy.

And indeed, there was a scar on her face. This close, he could see that the scar reached as far up as her hairline, where her bob presumably covered the rest. Jun had a hard time imagining what sort of injury could cause such a scar, and yet leave someone alive. Had it cut her eye in half? If it had, then something must have healed it back.

The Reverse Cursed Technique? Only Gojo and Hibana were supposed to have that in all of Tokyo. As far as Jun understood it, it was a heaven-defying skill that no mere non-special grade could aspire to learn.

Had Ito shattered that dividing line? Was she on her way to becoming something greater even than a Grade One?

“Homeroom is in session,” Yaga-sensei began. “First on the agenda, everyone congratulate Ito Aoi on her victory against a heinous curse user, and her rapid recovery from her battle.”

The class clapped politely.

“Rather than answer your questions one after the other,” the teacher continued, “Ito requested to have the floor so she could answer everyone at the same time. Afterwards, the matter gets put to bed, and we can all move on with our lives. Normally, as Jujutsu Sorcerers, these incidents don’t merit much ceremony, but allowances will be made for you first-years. But mark my words—this will not be the last time that one of your comrades are hurt in the line of duty. Ito-san was lucky to come out alive. That doesn’t always happen.”

That didn’t ruffle Ito at all. If she truly had stared death in the face and still returned to Jujutsu High to continue learning, then that was because her motivation and will was more powerful than the threat of death.

Seeing this was… comforting, to Jun. It made him feel less strange. Clearly, it was acceptable to be somewhat insane. If anything, a lack of insanity was a flaw in this line of work.

“Alright, now begin.”

“Yo!” Satoshi threw his hand in the air, and Jun groaned. “Is it true that some guy stabbed you in the skull and split your brain wide open and now you can’t read?”

What?! Even for you, Satoshi, that is—

“Yep, that’s… pretty much it!” Ito nodded.

“Did he hit the part of your brain that keeps all the letters?” Satoshi followed up.

“I don’t know!”

“That’s probably what he did. Also, how are you alive? Even zombies die when they get stabbed in the brain.”

“I don’t… know.”

With each question, the room focused more and more intensely on Satoshi and his rapid-fire questions.

“So you’re better than a zombie, huh. Sick. You kill him?”

“Uh… yeah, I did.”

“Hah! Sick. You’re way better than a zombie!”

“T-thank you?”

“How’d you do it?” Satoshi started shadow boxing. “You punch him to death? Or did you do the cutting thing?” He began chopping the air.

“Hey,” Geto Suguru intoned icily. “Read the room, you punk.”

“She just said she can’t read, idiot,” Satoshi said.

“I meant you!”

Yaga-sensei folded his arms and sighed. “I will be gone for five minutes. Behave, everyone.” Still, his tone of voice betrayed an utter lack of care about whether or not the class behaved. The writing was practically on the wall.

He walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

It didn’t take even half a second for Geto Suguru to pounce on Satoshi, punting him across the room.

Suzuki ran to intercept the flying punk, kicking him as well.

Jun landed his own kick right then.

In seconds, almost everyone in the class had gotten their licks in, rendering Satoshi a bruised mess on the floor while Ito chuckled awkwardly. She, along with Ishikawa and Aomori, were among the few who hadn’t hurt him.

“Ah, by the way,” Ito said as she made a chopping motion in the air. “It was like this.”

Only after Jun calmed down did the weight of that statement fully land.

Ito Aoi had actually killed another human being. Nothing would be done about that. No hearing, no court case, the police wouldn’t be involved, and yet a life had been taken.

A life had been taken.

When people died, the government got involved. That was the case everywhere in the civilized world. And yet here, that wasn’t what was happening.

The Japanese government at its highest level acknowledged the existence of Jujutsu Sorcerers, and Jujutsu Society, and gave them autonomy in all matters Jujutsu.

He had learned of this in history class and world issues—in Jujutsu High, of course.

That was theory. This was what it meant in practice.

And as for the moral weight of the act…

Ito looked even more relaxed and in good spirits than usual. Far more so, in fact. She was carrying that weight seemingly without any issue at all. Clearly, her assailant warranted no grief in her eyes, but for what he had caused her in terms of injury.

And Jun… would not be the one to judge her for that.

The dissonance between what ought to be felt upon the passing of another human, and what he actually felt, was confusing enough that it bordered on distracting.

He would unpack this dissonance later, in the privacy of his own room. Until then, it wouldn’t do for him to have a crisis of faith while everyone was watching. He was the class rep after all. People relied on him for…

Well, nothing as of yet, but the culture and sports festivals were imminent, and his grade would have to try hard to earn the praise of the rest of the school.

But as obnoxious as Satoshi had been, his questions did cut to the heart of the matter—all except one. Jun raised his hand.

“Kobayashi-san?” Ito said.

“How did you manage to heal? Do you have the Reverse Cursed Technique?”

“Ah,” Ito looked put upon by the question.

Then Ieiri raised her hand. “That was all me, actually. Surprise!”

000

The days of spring went by in a blur of school and the occasional mission to exorcise cursed spirits.

The higher-ups, so eager to get to the bottom of Suguru’s potential, began sending him on mission after mission all supervised by the Six Eyes. Though it boded well for Suguru’s power, he did often complain about how awful cursed spirits tasted going down.

His ability involved transforming enemy cursed spirits into small orbs that he would then need to swallow in order to add them to his army. For most spirits, he could just directly transform them into these balls, but the stronger ones, he needed to weaken a little first.

Though he complained about the taste, he never hesitated to do his duty.

After capturing his thirtieth Grade One in a row without assistance, and finally managing to defeat Kurourushi, Geto Suguru had received his promotion to Special Grade, Class One.

Shortly after the events at Watarai Regional Hospital, Ieiri Shoko had earned the distinction of ‘Healer’, not to mention numerous entreaties from clans both small and great, offering to make her an esteemed member of their family through either marriage or adoption.

Even the Big Three had swallowed their pride and floated an offer, even knowing about my connection with her. Predictably, she turned down every offer that came her way, and that was where things ended.

In a world without Gojo or myself, I would bet all of my stolen fortune that things wouldn’t have ended so cleanly for Shoko. The great powers of Jujutsu Society were not ones to take a woman’s no for an answer.

Mercilessly, my birthday rolled up as it always did every year, without fail.

May fifteenth. My birthday, and the deathday of my siblings.

The day Leviathan first landed in Brockton Bay.

The day I had been first offered a cake in this new life.

A day of private, torturous memories.

000

I came to the cafeteria hall early with Shoko. I had trained her for about an hour, but my heart hadn’t really been in it.

That was usually the case when my birthday rolled up. I never quite managed to accomplish much of anything at all during it. Iemon would usually pick up the slack if anything particularly noteworthy had arisen. He probably knew why at this point.

“Never once have I left one of your training sessions feeling refreshed,” Shoko said. “In fact, why don’t we train like this everyday? It was almost heaven.”

“If training is heaven, then you’re just a vapid soccer mom with no ambition,” I murmured. “Jogging for fun, because you’re terrified your animal biology might lead you to deposit more fat around your waist.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“They made us scared of our own bodies. Sold us beauty in the form of frailty. Weakness. Skinniness.”

“You’ve lost me.”

Where I would go, I would usually lose everyone. That was just a fact of life when you were me. You lost and lost and lost. And you kept going anyway, because someone had to go there.

We grabbed our food from the cook’s counter, and started eating quietly. At least the food was fresher when you arrived as early as this. The French Toast still had a soft center, and the juice they served paired well with it.

I heard an annoyance make their way to us from hundreds of feet away, navigating the building at dizzying speeds.

“What’s with you, Teira? You seem… down.”

“It’s…”

Gojo and Suguru burst into the empty cafeteria—still so early in the morning—Gojo holding a pink paper box. “Happy Birthday, Teira-chan!” Gojo shouted, overshadowing Suguru’s more reasonable well wishes. They both grinned widely as they made their way to me, while Shoko shot up to her feet.

“It’s your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“How did you know?” I frowned at Gojo as he put the box on the table. Oh god, please don’t be—

“Cake first!” He opened the box. A cake with fifteen candles, and the number fifteen spelled out in black chocolate frosting. The cake was otherwise totally white, and had plastic roaches all over it.

That was almost enough to make me smile. Almost. But I was determined not to have fun today, so I didn’t.

“Ew! Why did you put roaches on it?” Shoko complained.

“Satoru’s idea of a dumb joke,” Suguru replied as he picked up the roach toys and tossed them away, into the cake boxes lid.

Meanwhile, Shoko was using her lighter to light the candles.

“Please don’t sing,” I sighed, eyes closed.

“Haaaaaaaa—ppy birthday to you!” Gojo began. In English. Heavily accented English, but still English. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Teira! Happy birthday to you! How old are you now?”

He paused, looking at me expectantly.

I rolled my orbs. “Fifteen. And that’s not—”

“How old are you now?”

“That’s not how the song goes,” I said.

“How old—“

I blew the candles out and clapped sarcastically. “Yippee. The Earth did another turn around the sun since I was born. Also, how do you know when my birthday is?!”

“Fileroom!” Gojo grinned. “You don’t have a monopoly on espionage, you know!”

Suguru went up to the cook to request a knife and some plates.

“Lighten up, Teira!” Gojo continued. “It’s your birthday! And because it’s your birthday, I have planned out your whole day for you!”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why?” Gojo blinked. “Because we’re friends!” his tone was sickeningly sweet. “And I’ve never been on a friend’s birthday before, so I thought I’d go all out to make it a memorable one. Don’t worry Shoko,” he looked up as Suguru arrived with the plates and the knife, “or you Suguru—you’ll get your turns too eventually. Then you can all throw me one massive shindig in return. December 7th, alright? Don’t forget!”

Suguru cut the cake into slices. It was thankfully a rather small cake, as far as these things went, so we each got two reasonable sized slices.

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered. “You know, I don’t have any desire to celebrate this day.” Nothing good had ever happened on this day.

“Don’t be so grouchy,” Shoko reached over the table and put a hand over mine. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

Oh, you promise?

Under regular circumstances, I would have interrogated that stupid promise a little more, but my birthday had done a number on my initiative.

To my horror, I found myself no longer able to resist.

000

Cake for breakfast, then we went to an amusement park and had more cake there.

“I didn’t even know they served cake in these,” I muttered as we each took a paper plate from the stall we had gone to. The amusement park was a confusing mess of lights and sounds, people shouting and laughing, and children just bawling their eyes out from the stress of overstimulation.

Who were these places even for? The kids were stressed out, and the grownups felt it was beneath them.

I guess the glut of teenagers hanging around were the target audience. They seemed to be having fun.

Gojo looked me up and down as he ate his cake. “You really need to update your wardrobe to this century.”

Everyone had taken to wearing their Sunday best. Shoko was in a cute yellow sundress with white floral patterns, and she wore white flats with ankle socks. In lieu of a cigarette, she was sucking on a lollipop, and was all smiles for the day. At least somebody was having fun.

Gojo and Suguru were dressed in darkly colored slacks and bright shirts.

I was wearing a kimono, dark purple with white and black patterns of flowers and bees. Since I was in the outside world, I had my skin set to human standards, and a hairband over my head to make my antennae look like a whimsical accessory instead of what they were. I wore glasses that overlaid an illusion of light over my eyes. The cursed energy manipulated visible light, which was why the illusion could still work on non-sorcerers. All they saw was a pair of teal eyes.

“Also, I’ve never understood this fashion sense of yours,” Gojo said. “You hate tradition, but you love the outfits. How does that make sense?”

I shrugged. “Psychological warfare, I guess.”

“Huh?” Gojo leaned his head forward, grimacing in confusion.

“Maybe it’s because I know it irks the traditionalists when I wear this,” I said. “I’m… appropriating their culture. It’s an offensive move. Psychological warfare.”

Shoko snorted. “You just like it—don’t lie.”

I ate my cake silently in order to not answer that.

Maybe I just did like this fashion. It was pretty, I didn’t have it where I came from, and I had enough money to wear as many as I wanted.

And the less I felt like my past life’s self, the better.

The kimono was comfortable like that. I needed it. Especially today.

Once we finished our cakes, we dumped our paper plates and got in line to try out one of the rides—a row of chairs that would swing up and then down. Pointless, frivolous non-sorcerer crap.

Gojo feigned fun on his first three rides on a variety of different machines until he came to terms with the banality of moving a little faster than normal human limits when he was a sorcerer. Shoko and Suguru seemed to consistently have fun throughout.

At least we didn’t stay longer than a single hour—which I still felt was an hour longer than was warranted.

Afterwards, Shoko dragged me to a mall, and into the nearest clothing store, which also happened to be a Zara.

I clicked my tongue. “I don’t want this,” I said as she pulled me deeper into the store. Shoko pouted at me.

“You need a wardrobe change, Teira. Try something new!”

“No, I don’t.” I growled. “No one’s respected any of my wishes today, but this? This isn’t a debate. I’m wearing my kimono and that’s final.”

“Can’t you at least try something?” Shoko asked. “You’ve been sour all day. Maybe if you changed your outfit, it might change your mood?”

I doubted it.

Still, the same ennui that dominated my every birthday prevented me from continuing to plead my case. I didn’t have the energy, whether mental or physical, to waste my breath and ideas on this. All I could feel was a quiet resentment of my so-called friends for failing to listen to me.

“It’s like, super hot anyway,” Shoko said. “You’ll want to wear something other than a kimono.”

“I’m also, like, a freak of nature,” I said. “I can just lower my body heat as needed. It’s not a big deal.”

“Come on, Teira.”

“Whatever,” I murmured. I knew she wouldn’t listen.

She forced me out of my kimono and made me try something else. High-rise brown khakis, a black belt with a brass buckle, a white shirt tucked into the waistband of the pants, and a short brown jacket that reached only the middle of my waist.

I looked myself in the mirror and twirled around. “Too… Paris fashion week.”

“It looks gorgeous. You look gorgeous.”

I wanted to transform just to spite her.

We tried something else.

A blue sundress, a pearl necklace, black boots, and a purse. Shoko tried to put a hat on me, but my antennae stopped them dead.

“Genius,” I said.

“Heheh,” she chuckled bashfully as she put the hat away.

“I look like someone’s mother,” I said. “Which is especially ironic as I don’t intend to ever have children.”

“First of all—you’re fifteen. That doesn’t really mean much. Also, you’re wrong. You look like someone’s sexy mother.”

I almost grinned, but through a Herculean effort, I managed to freeze my facial muscles in their tracks.

The next outfit was a white blouse, a dark blue miniskirt, and black boots that reached my mid-shin. It went with a gold-colored purse, a bracelet, necklace and earrings, also gold.

“Gasp,” Shoko said, holding her chest. “Am I dreaming, or has Hibana Teira suddenly become the hottest girl in Jujutsu High—nay, all of Japan?”

“Are we done, Shoko?” I pleaded.

“You tell me.”

Oh my god. “Fine! This looks nice! I like it! Let’s go!”

She nodded. “Perfect.” She gave her own self a look. “I do feel a little underdressed, but I can bear with it, as long as I don’t outshine you on your special day.”

“You’re a rotten friend,” I said as I threw her my credit card. “There. Go nuts. Pick whatever you want.”

She gasped. Then she hugged me tightly. “My best friend is so generous and charitable!”

The sudden hug smashed through my mental guard, and try as I might, I couldn’t stop my stupid, dumb lips from quirking upwards—

“There it is!” Shoko hugged me more tightly. “I’ve missed seeing those uncannily white teeth of yours!”

I pushed her away. “You’ll feel them digging into your flesh too if you don’t stop screwing with me.”

She backed away and put a hand over her mouth. “Ara, ara.”

“Guh!” I threw my hands around in frustration. There was no getting through her. She was just going to be obnoxious today, and there seemed to be nothing I could really do to stop that.

In the end, we bought all the outfits that we tried that day, and in an empty bathroom, deposited all our bags into Michiko’s Timeless Sanctuary. I wore the blouse and miniskirt combo, with all the accessories, while Shoko had changed into an outfit that resembled the ‘Paris fashion week’ thing that I once wore what felt like hours ago.

Brown slacks, a white shirt, a short brown jacket, black shades, wide hoop earrings, a hand purse, and a beret. She emphasized the ‘Paris’ of that statement quite a bit.

It looked good on her, though. I never gave her the satisfaction of telling her that, however.

We linked back up with Gojo and Suguru, who were in an arcade portion of the mall, playing games that were meant for kids half their age.

Afterwards, Gojo forced us to see a movie. The Hulk in its original English dub, with Japanese subtitles.

I actually didn’t mind terribly to see that movie. The world of superheroes was a distinctly fictional phenomenon in this world. The likes of the Triumvirate and the Protectorate were now… the Justice League, or the X-Men. No Wards—just sidekicks and the Teen Titans. This world’s lack of real superheroes had seemingly forced the entertainment industry into overdrive to make up for their lack.

But either way, the people yearned for superheroes.

The movie was nothing to write home about. Rather, it was just plain bad. Entertaining, however, but I wouldn’t remember it after today.

After we finished watching the movie, and walked down the street, Gojo spotted a café and grabbed my arm. “Oooh! Let’s grab some cake!”

“The hell, Gojo,” Shoko muttered. “All we’ve eaten today is cake. Can you just give it a rest?”

“I can’t eat anymore cake,” Suguru said with a choked tone, as if he was holding back from throwing up cake. “Anything else would be better.”

So we took a train to the beach, ditched our shoes, and did a bit of running around to digest faster.

We built a sandcastle and Gojo took pictures of Shoko and I as we carefully waded into the shallow ankle-deep waters that were bitingly cold despite the hot weather.

In the end, none of us even got close to developing an appetite for more cake, so we decided on a pizza instead—one very large one that would feed all of us. Shoko ended up not being able to finish her quarter. I finished mine, and the boys ate the rest with a relish.

And Gojo made us watch another movie, just because. Ju-On: The Grudge. It hit very close to home, which was probably why it was so enjoyable.

After we finished watching the movie, Gojo explained a few things about it as we walked down the street, on our way to the metro station to head home. “Toshio and Kayako are both Imaginary Curses!” Gojo said. “They manifested a few months after the movie’s release, but they were both thankfully sealed before they could do much damage.”

“Should they even be allowed to make such movies?” Suguru asked, a little appalled.

“We can’t stop them, or it’ll only get worse,” Gojo said. “Besides, movies and such only produce low-powered curses unless something isn’t quickly done about them. It’s the folkloric monsters you gotta look out for, like Kuchisake-Onna or even Hanako of the toilet.”

“I don’t like it at all,” Suguru said. “They should be more mindful about curses. We’re the ones who suffer to protect them after all.”

Gojo clapped Suguru on his shoulder. “Sucks, but what can you do?”

“There’s no point in trying to understand non-sorcerers,” I said quietly. Suguru and Gojo both looked at me in surprise. “It’s like trying to understand the motive of curses. They just are. Nothing can change that. All we can do is choose what to do about it.”

To that, they said nothing.

We were all played out by the time we were back to Mount Ushiro, the moon high in the night sky.

“I hope today was good for you, Teira,” Gojo said. “You had fun, right?”

He was walking up ahead next to Suguru when he turned his head slightly, wearing a crooked grin.

Fun, huh?

I smiled. “Sure. I had lots of fun.”

He chuckled uneasily. “That’s… great.”

In truth, this day wasn’t supposed to be fun, nor would it ever be.

But Gojo’s effort to make it fun was something I couldn’t dismiss out of hand.

“Thank you, Gojo,” I said. “For… all this.”

My hesitation was odd. I didn’t understand it. Under regular circumstances, I would have jumped at humbling him.

“You’re creeping me out,” Gojo chuckled.

He noticed it too, then. But try as I might, I couldn’t muster a response. My heart just wasn’t in it. All I wanted was for this day to be over. Gojo had only extended my suffering by filling the day with so much distracting nonsense.

I wanted to go to my room, drink poison, and see my sisters.

Shoko hooked her arm around mine and held my hand. She didn’t say anything, just leaning in closer to me.

“Two movies in one day was a little much, Satoru,” Suguru said.

“What?!” Gojo asked, scandalized. “If anything, I thought there were too few movies.”

000

“Hah! Monopoly!” Four shouted after finally landing on the last blue square, making her the owner of the priciest color in the board.

“You don’t have to shout Monopoly,” Three muttered. “This isn’t Uno.”

“The owner of the green squares dares speak to me?” Four asked. “I don’t speak Slumlord!” She stuck her tongue out at Three.

“This slumlord has all four houses and hotels on each of her squares, so try taking a better tone with me before you go bankrupt when you land on me—you barely have any money left!”

It was One’s turn. She rolled both dice. The result was not two sixes. She would have to stay another round in jail. “This is ridiculous,” she spat.

“I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous,” Two glared at me. “The idiot whose only plan is to sabotage others’ monopolies by refusing to sell, even when it would be mutually beneficial!”

I could have traded my red square for one of her yellow ones, and we would both have Monopoly.

But fuck her.

Not for any particular reason, but just because her properties were more expensive than mine. She stood to benefit more than me from a trade like that. She had offered money to go with the trade, but again: fuck her. There was nothing else to my strategy but that.

“Nothing to say?” Two asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, I do: fuck you.”

Her threatening to boil over was fun to watch.

All my siblings had grown alongside me. They had also diverged in their looks. None of them had my deathly pallour, and they also all styled their hair differently, and wore different clothes. Four’s hair was a mess of differently colored highlights, and she also wore jean overalls on top of a green sweater.

One was dressed in a high school uniform, matching her sober personality. And she wore her hair straight and shoulder length.

Two’s hair was cut short, and she wore a black leather jacket and black pants with a chain hanging on it. She was also seconds away from throttling me, easy to provoke as she was.

Three wore a white button-up, a long gray skirt, and wore glasses. She had a fondness for reading about random topics she had no familiarity with, and I indulged her by using one of my Juchū to satisfy her curiosity.

“I’ll kill you,” Two threatened matter-of-factly.

“It would be my pleasure,” I said.

She jumped over the board and started wrestling me.

“Hey!” Four shrieked. “The board!”

Two managed to hook her arm over my neck and started squeezing—oh no. I pried her arms away and tried to counter-grapple, but she clearly wanted to kill me more than I wanted to kill her.

“It’s just a game!” I shouted, grinning. “All this for a game?!”

She redoubled her efforts.

Finally, the others pulled us apart.

This world didn’t have cursed energy. All that mattered was willpower, which made a lack of emotional regulation an advantage. Such could not be said about normal Jujutsu.

“I was tired of the game anyway,” One said. “I was in prison for fifteen rounds.”

“The likelihood of hitting two sixes is one in thirty-six,” Three said. “So that makes sense.”

“So I’d have been in jail for thirty-six rounds?”

“Not quite—statistics does not predict the future. Only likely outcomes. You could have been freed from prison on your first round if you had just hit two sixes.”

“Then what is statistics even for if it can’t predict the future?” One groused.

“Five,” Four said to me. “I don’t know about the others but… I had fun today!”

I smiled a little. “I figured you would.”

“We should make our birthday more fun,” Four went on. “I know you think it’s super-sad and all because of all the, uh… death and tragedy.”

I looked at her flatly.

“But it’s been fifteen years,” she said. “Fifteen years on the day! So… let’s get over it? Please?”

Two nodded. “I mean, it’s a bummer, but I get more bummed when you’re bummed,” she said to me.

“It’ll take a while,” I said quietly. “To… you know… wash the stink away.”

“We still need to start somewhere,” One said, and Three nodded. They were all in agreement, then.

The airport’s intercom crackled to life. Ding, ding.

“Teira?!” I heard a terrified voice from the intercom. “Teira?! Oh my god—“

“Ah, crap,” I sighed. “Well, gotta go. See you at Obon?”

“Yes!” Four held her thumb up.

“Good riddance,” Two grinned.

“See you soon, sister,” One said.

“See you soon,” said Three.

I sparked my Reverse Cursed Technique, waking up to see Shoko hugging and crying into my shoulder.

“Uh,” I said, and Shoko gasped, pulling away from me.

“Teira…?”

“This is awkward,” I muttered.

000

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Shoko said, her voice quivering as she loomed above me while I sat on the edge of my bed, head hung low. “You hear me? Ever.”

“I don’t have any plans to die, Shoko,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about that. Besides, way too many people depend on me.”

“So if you didn’t have anyone depending on you, then what?”

Then, I’d probably feel less strongly about departing from this mortal coil, but that didn’t mean that I just would. “Like I told you, I just went to see my sisters. I do this occasionally. On my birthday and on Obon. Twice a year.”

“And that doesn’t sound absolutely crazy to you?”

I shrugged. It was crazy. There was nothing I could say to change that fact.

Shoko sighed. “Can you at least let me monitor you before you try this again? You felt almost completely dead to me, Teira. It was terrifying. And it can’t be safe.”

It wasn’t, that much was true.

“Fine,” I said. “And… thanks for working with me on this.”

“Don’t thank me—I’m insane for going with this,” she said. “I’m utterly, irreversibly insane. But I suppose it takes at least this much to tolerate you.”

“Ouch?” I looked up at her. “You know, it’s still my birthday. You should be nicer.”

She snorted. “Fat chance.”

A/N: Nothing new and plot relevant came up in this rework of the old chapter... 47? Can't remember. I just went a little more deeply into their activities, and Teira's depresso. I feel like I write this stuff just to remind everyone: "Make no mistake--this girl ain't stable. Don't let her girlboss attitude fool you!"