Chapter Text
Pain ran laps between Maki's shoulders. The aches were deep, compounded over all the throws she'd endured. Her membership in the Kukuru Unit hinged on a single rule: for every ten rounds Maki weathered on defense, she got to attack once.
She pushed her body up, elbows sinking into the tatami mat. The entire unit fell silent. By the time she rose to her feet, everyone still running drills did so with only half their focus.
Today's opponent sneered down at her. He was no different from all the rest. It wasn't contempt that set his teeth on edge, but fear.
They all hoped she'd stay down. In this way, Maki loved to disappoint.
So, she planted her feet and took stock of her options. This week, she'd made a lot of progress with non-dominant kicks. Her punches could use some work. Uppercut it was.
Despite the sting of multiple collisions and blows, Maki formed a perfect fist with her left hand. Between one breath and the next, she delivered a strike to the underside of her opponent's chin. The mouth guard cracked between his teeth. They'd expel her if she ever broke their bones, so she took immense satisfaction in watching shards of plastic leave his mouth.
Normally, expulsion was enough for her to agree to play nice—but that wouldn't matter after today. Leaving his teeth intact was not a kindness Maki paid to him, but to Mai. Like the cowards they were, they'd have no problem taking it out on her while Maki was away.
Maki stood at the foot of her bed, annoyed at her lack of packing progress. The empty duffel bag sagged on her bed. She'd looked through the closet, under the beds, and inside the drawers. Nothing was important enough to bother picking up.
Behind her, the door gently slid open. She turned to see Mai walk in, a glass of water in one hand and her palm cupped under it to catch any spills. Maki lifted the window blinds, revealing the cactus Mai kept on the sill.
Mai poured water into the clay pot, then drained the excess.
“You should pack too,” Maki said. “Bring Setsuna, if you want.”
Mai huffed, almost a laugh. “How about you start first, then you can talk.”
“I'm basically done. I travel light, so why change now?”
Mai fell back onto her bed, fully splayed out. “It was unwise of you to announce it first.”
Maki groaned. “Not this again. It doesn't matter they know I'm leaving. They can't stop me.”
Years ago, Mai had told her a person's heart is the size of a fist. It was trivia she'd smuggled in from a magazine. It hadn't meant too much to Maki at the time, but the years she'd spent with the Kukuru Unit brought that fact to bear.
They let her join, but she knew it wasn't an olive branch. It was punishment. While she and Mai both failed as sorcerers, only Maki failed as a woman.
And yet, in those glorious moments when she fought back, she balled up her desire for a new life into her fist and ground it into their flesh.
Why was it so hard for Mai to believe she'd get them out of here?
A soft knock sounded through the door. Mai jumped up to hide Setsuna. Maki waited until she was done before acknowledging the caller.
One of their female cousins, Yoshimi, opened the door. She stayed in the hallway and faced Maki. Her eyes were open but unseeing, gaze cast into the middle distance, obviously trying to project her consciousness.
Yoshimi's voice was a wisp. “Naobito-sama has summoned you.”
Maki nodded. The cousin stepped further into the hall.
Maki was done wasting time trying to pack. All she needed was on her person, sheathed under her clothes. She picked up the duffel and tossed it onto her twin's bed.
As she passed Mai, she turned to look her in the eyes. “Be ready, okay? Once I close this out, I'll come get you.”
Mai sniffed, unfazed.
Maki chose not to take it personally. If nothing else, she’d keep her word.
Her cousin shuffled along in front of her. Seeing a living person move like a wounded curse made bile rise in Maki's throat.
As the night train rolled into Tokyo, Maki pulled the slip of paper out of her bomber jacket's pocket. Her final assignment was twofold. The target was a vessel in the form of a ring. It'd been crafted by some old woman in the Tōhoku countryside. Before, it was strong enough to repel curses but not powerful enough to warrant retrieval.
However, it had recently been transformed into something beyond a cursed tool. Now, it attracted high-grade curses and could be put to use by the clan.
It was last seen in the possession of the woman's granddaughter: Kugisaki Nobara, Jujutsu Headquarters' current executioner.
Maki would never say Naobito did right by her, but at least he made her last mission a fun one.
She strolled through the city, where all the lights threatened to bring on a migraine. Thankfully, the penthouse was close to the station. The apartment lobby was sensibly lit and irrationally insecure. The humans must have evacuated after curses started pouring in.
Maki climbed the stairwell, amused that the handrail was elaborate wrought iron.
She double-checked the apartment number before trying the door…which opened. It had been so long since she'd encountered an unlocked home, she paused to make sure she hadn't simply broken the handle. Whether it was a holdover from Kugisaki's life in the sticks, or the arrogance of a Special Grade sorcerer, it spared Maki some effort.
She slipped inside and eased the door shut, keeping her steps silent on the black hardwood. As Maki stuck to the edges of the huge living room, she pulled out the cursed dagger holstered to her lower back. City lights streamed in through a row of floor-to-ceiling windows, enough for her to see the messy bar and modern furniture.
She wondered if Mai would want to live in a place like this, or if it reminded her too much of work.
Tucked in a corner, Maki took time to orient herself. She didn't have enough cursed energy to be detected by Kugisaki, so she listened for direction to keep her advantage. She picked up the sound of breathing from what looked like the kitchen. It was quiet, but not steady enough to idicate sleep.
Not ideal, but nothing she couldn't handle.
Maki gripped the dagger, its cursed energy pulsing in time to her heartbeat. She rounded the corner. Her eyes swept the room, landing on a woman at the kitchen island.
Kugisaki's orange hair was striking, pushed behind both ears. One eye was red and leaking tears, the other covered by a black eyepatch emblazoned with a bloodied rose.
Here Maki was, mid-crouch with weapon in hand, completely thrown off by the oppressive sense of grief in the room. She stood up, too uncomfortable with the atmosphere to hold her position. As absurd as it was, she cast her eyes to the windows. If Kugisaki made a move, her other senses would pick it up.
“Why are you still up?” Maki asked, completely flummoxed.
There was a shuddering breath and a rustle, likely Kugisaki wiping her tears. Maki didn't look her way again until she spoke.
“None of your business.” Kugisaki pawed at her face as another tear fell. “Get out of my house.”
It was an apartment—albeit a luxurious one—but Maki decided not to comment on that. “I have a job to do,” she said instead.
Kugisaki narrowed her eye. “And what job would that be?”
Maki flashed the dagger. “You're not gonna like the answer.”
The silence tangled with awkward air, pushing Maki to speak in an attempt to disrupt it. “I don't ever do this, but I've got a pill you can take if you'd prefer that. And a garrote. And-.”
Kugisaki scoffed. “Shut up. Use whatever you want, I'll still have to wipe you off the floor in the morning.” She hopped off the stool and grabbed a hammer off the counter. “Let's get this over with.”
Very well.
Quick as lightning, Maki tackled Kugisaki. Before the dagger found its mark, Kugisaki denied her the leverage. The tip cracked the linoleum beside the woman's head. She launched Maki to the side, who rolled with it and jumped to her feet. She yanked Kugisaki by her shoulder's pressure point and threw her into a tight corner.
Leaving no room for another trick, Maki readied herself to deliver the killing blow. Despite that, Kugisaki's body relaxed fully in her grip. It was sudden, disarming, and so unlike the natural tension she had prepared to break through.
Maki knew how people wore surrender or hopelessness when death was guaranteed. This was different. A frenzy ignited on Kugisaki's face.
Under their feet, Kugisaki turned the very floor into death ground. She hadn't expanded a domain or let loose some cursed technique. This was an instinctual fact of putting the executioner's back against the wall.
The only way to win was to keep this fight on open ground.
As Maki leapt back, the hammer's claw sliced diagonally across her collarbone into the fabric binding her chest.
Maki held her breath. That was far too close.
She widened her stance. The charge of cursed energy skimmed over her skin. Maki knew the instant she lost her footing, she'd lose her life.
Kugisaki growled, charging forward in pursuit. In her fury, wisps of cursed energy escaped the corners of her mouth.
Kugisaki crashed into her, pinning her limbs to the floor. In all her years of assassination, no one had ever held her down this completely. Under the fear, under the replacement of safety with certain death, another urge ran its course. It pushed Maki's breathing—already heavy with exertion—within a hairsbreadth of a moan.
Before it could break free, Maki rolled on top of her target. She dug her forearm into Kugisaki's windpipe.
Glass shards slid across the floor as a curse dove through one of the windows. It was Semi-Grade 1, one of their own. Maki couldn't tell which pissed her off more: the clan deciding she needed backup, or that they didn't even bother to send a Grade 1 when Kugisaki warranted extreme measures.
It wasn't until the curse lunged for her first that Maki realized its directive was to kill her as well.