wasteland, baby! [fushiguro megumi]

28: happy fucking birthday!

31 october 2018

third person pov

what's it like to be a flesh prison of flames? to be the last unborn heir from the fugitive clan with the most problematic of binding vows tied to them years before they were even meant for this earth. to be a child born from love but raised in animosity. to be someone deemed as royalty by one yet scorned as the devil's spawn by another.

she was to be mizuki kaida, the mizuki clan's last heir. to be born, worshipped and celebrated in the sun like every other newborn from the royal family. their last 'little dragon' born with the mizuki clan's sacred flame and technique, and yet her birth took place on the darkest of nights, the ungodly witching hours, at the peak of the blood moon's eclipse, and that marked her second bad omen.

for all eternity, she'll burn.

already held in disdain by the members of her clan from the second she piped her first cry, the stigma of being a cursed spirit's daughter was finally embodied in the flesh. she had already been deemed unworthy by the distasteful eyes of shrewd mothers and old fashioned fathers, and so her parents decided. she shall be mizuki keiko, a child who is blessed, a child who should be loved, respected and celebrated, for she was destined to be their salvation after all.

her twisted fate already carved in the ichor filled scriptures.

but now with the entire clan wiped out by her own hands, what exactly was she heir to?

gods are the loneliest. she's heard that enough for every time she'd mistakenly enter the forsaken pantheon, there was never a time she wouldn't receive an earful from amaterasu herself.

"your fate did not bring you to gojo satoru for nothing. you are kazuyahime now, do not disappoint your subjects, do not make me despise you."

as if keiko hadn't felt despised upon enough already.

was it fate that brought her to gojo satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer? though he didn't treat her like a mistake in need of correction, the gruelling hours of training would sometimes still bring her back to the last memories she had of her father and his beliefs.

"she'll seek justice for us all."

now would she though?

today, the girl turns sixteen. and she knows that she's far from the blessed child that her parents had thought of her to be.

more like a cursed child.

at least that was what mizuki keiko sacrilegiously believed in.

༊*·˚

tokyo prefectural jujutsu high school

three knocks to the shoji door and she was granted entry.

"yaga sensei, i got your text. what is it? it sounded urgent." keiko scrambled into the room and peered over the man's silhouette, desperately trying to keep her excessive yawning to the minimum though it was still in the wee hours of the morning.

the principal turned to face her, keeping his hands behind his back while he mused at her dishevelled bed hair and her half tucked uniform and mismatched stockings – her penny loafers weren't worn on the right feet either.

"no matter how urgent it is, at least get dressed properly first kiddo." he stifled a snort before bringing his hands forward to present the little project that he had finally finished.