𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃 (𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓)

THE PAVEMENT WAS SPLATTERED WITH BLOOD, the black goo covering the sidewalk barely visible with the constant rain and the haze of the veil the sorcerer had placed minutes early. Gojo Satoru straightened, looking down at the Curse with a grimace before taking in the rest of the darkened street, his blindfold hanging loosely around his neck as his uncovered eyes took in the mess.

It had taken both the strength of his Six Eyes and the mastery of Satoshi's cursed technique to track the Vengeful Spirit, and although killing it hadn't been much of a challenge, Satoru couldn't help but wish the curse fought back at least a little.

Gojo Satoshi scoffed, as if reading the thoughts of his elder brother. It was rare for the two of them to be sent out together, and although they both shared the gifts of the Gojo Clan, Satoshi was still only a semi first-grade sorcerer, meaning the assignment was well above his level of skill.

Not that the younger Gojo minded, even though he hadn't been blessed with the famed Six Eyes, he was still powerful enough to make most sorcerers look like toddlers playing around with wild pieces of untamed magic. Satoru waltzed over to the curse, watching as its body slowly began rotting away into the cement the second its cursed energy ran out.

"That is quite the kill, Satoru-san."

Satoru whipped his head around, recognizing the melodical tone and looking past his brother's annoyed expression. Léa Dubois smiled, crossing her arms over her chest as she stepped into the bounds of the veil, the cursed energy emanating from her like a soft blanket of tempest blue. She broke into the space easily, the walls of the veil Satoshi had placed quickly melting away before quickly snapping back shut.

The woman looked incredibly out of place, her polished pencil skirt and her Louboutin heels clacking against the cobble stone street with each step. Her lips were painted a perfect shade of red, the colour contrasting against her pale skin while the eyeliner around her eyes was sharp, making her look like an elegant feral cat in the wild.

The sorceress paused, eyeing the mess with a thoughtful expression before turning back towards Gojo.

"We could really use someone like you defending the streets of Paris on a regular basis."

Satoru groaned but didn't say anything. With the high of the chase and the adrenaline still pumping in his veins, he'd almost forgotten he was standing in the fabled City of Love. Gojo didn't care about that sort of stuff, and he certainly didn't care about whatever Madame Dubois was here to say, which is why he snorted, a careful eye still watching his brother – although Léa wasn't a threat in on itself, Satoru didn't trust her for one second, and he especially didn't trust her when it came to his family. The man sighed, brushing a stray strand of silver hair out of his face.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I have no intent of becoming an expat."

It wasn't uncommon for sorcerers to travel from country to country, to wherever The Magistrate assigned them, however, it was unusual for sorcerers to make their stay permanent. The society of Jujutsu worked inside of a carefully planned balance, and the moment that equilibrium was broken, all hell broke loose.

Satoru knew this, he'd watched it happen at least twice before, and as a sorcerer, he knew he'd rather not see it again. Besides, shamans were tied by bonds that could not easily be undone, whatever magic ran through their veins just as strong as any unbreakable vow that could be made.

Léa pursed her lips, Satoru's words somehow distasteful enough to brand a permanently sour expression on her face. Instead of refuting his comment, the woman set her cat-like eyes on Satoshi, bowing her head as she forced a smile.