𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇

KINZOKU MIKAZUKI STOOD IN FRONT OF HER BROTHER, hands fidgeting with the hem of her gown as her big golden eyes searched his. Keisuke remained calm, quietly pushing down his own anxiety as he slowly reached to her. This time, she did not flinch, a sigh of relief escaping her lips when Keisuke's comforting hand brushed against her arm. The touch was minimal, the gesture barely noticeable as the crowd began to dissipate, the dance over for the night.

The guests had left the dancefloor, scurrying around as they made their way towards the tables that lined the room, an obscene amount of prepared foods and drinks occupying every inch of them. Mikazuki ignored it all; the whispers, the murmurs, the rumours... all of it seemed to fade away the moment she met Keisuke's guarded gaze.

He stood tall in front of her, a lock of dark hair that had broken lose from his gelled hairstyle brushing his forehead as he looked down at his sister. He could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage, the sound of it swallowing up everything else.

Mikazuki stole a glance at the crowd, slowly relaxing when she realized everyone's attention was otherwise occupied. Keisuke quickly stole her focus, his hold tightening around her bicep as he tugged, dragging her closer as he kept his voice low.

"Is this what has been plaguing your mind all these months?" He asked, his head cocked to the side as he regarded his twin. "I thought we already discussed this. You shouldn't concern yourself with that stuff. What happened isn't your fault."

Even as he said it, Mikazuki could see the doubt festering on his stare. She couldn't blame him for it, either. Keisuke had been there that evening; he'd seen everything, and yet, bearing witness to the event did nothing to appease his mind, especially when he wasn't even sure what he'd seen. The heir closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as the memories flourished.

He could still hear the screams as the Curse barged forward, the look of terror in Mikazuki's face before she pulled the gold from the folds of reality, invoking the darkest part of Everlasting.

Then, silence. It happened in the blink of an eye, yet Keisuke could recall every single detail like it had been burned into his mind.

He'd seen the golden threads rip through flesh like paper, limbs torn from the body, insides spilling on the dim lit catacombs of Paris. The Curses were dead, torn apart and sent back to whichever hell they came from in the first place. Except those wretched wraiths weren't the only casualties of that evening. Because, in the haste of the battle, Mikazuki had miscalculated; she'd cast her net too wide and taken out two students in the crossfire.

Two girls; sisters. They were nineteen and fourteen years old. And Mikazuki had killed them both.

The sorceress looked down, licking her lips before her gaze meet her brother's one more time. He could see the war waging in her eyes, the terrible guilty eating away at her. It was an accident, but the result was the same.

She'd killed two people, a fact she would never be able to erase or to make up for. She was a killer – something the Jujutsu society was now well aware of, as the whispers followed her all the way here even when the details of the mission had been kept under lock and key.

"Not my fault? I killed them, Kei." Mikazuki stressed through gritted teeth, unshed tears glimmering in her eyes. "Me. Not anyone else. I'm the one who cast the technique. I'm the one who tore them to pieces!" She raised her voice, the echo of it raising above their heads and ricocheting against the gilded ballroom like a stray bullet. "I haven't stopped thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. They haunt me in my sleep." She mumbled before vehemently shaking her head. "Father warned me about it, I should have never learned it in the first place. I should never have–"

Before she could go on, Keisuke held her face in his hands, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"If you hadn't, we'd be dead. All of us." He turned, gesturing to the corner of the room.

Mikazuki's gaze swept over the area, her vision blurry from the tears, yet she was still able to take a glimpse. Satoru was leaning against one of the columns, hands in his pockets while Shoko stood beside him, her arm linked with Suguru's. The sorceress swallowed, and although the guilt didn't fade away completely, part of her was relieved to see them there.

"You saved us, dove." Keisuke reiterated, his tone leaving no room for argument as his thumbs pressed into her puffy cheeks. "And maybe they died. And maybe you killed them. But it was an accident and you saved us. Five lives for the price of two? That's a damn good deal."

Mikazuki steeled.

"I am not our father. I do not play games with people's lives." The sorceress said in a harsh tone as she stepped back, putting distance with her brother once more. "It might have been an accident, but I am still responsible for it."

Keisuke sighed, stepping back before pointing to her left shoulder. The sleeve of the gown and the dark cloak that trailed behind her covered part of the wound, but he could still see the torn flesh underneath. It had been a couple of months since the incident, yet the injury still refused to heal. Magical wounds were tricky, especially those inflicted by complicated spells.

"But you've already paid the price, haven't you?"

The Golden Threads of Fate was a special-grade curse, created to be wielded only by those who understood its price. Mikazuki had already used it once before, and it had taken part of her arm away. The dark veins spiralling from her injured shoulder were just the consequences of borrowing such a power whilst ignoring its nature. Her shoulder might never be the same.

Mikazuki had been foolish, casting such a technique when she knew the price. And yet, she'd done it in a heartbeat the moment the Curse made a beeline for Satoru. She didn't even have to think, the gold inside of her awakening instinctively.

And then tragedy struck, and she became a killer.

"Oh, brother." Mikazuki breathed out, looking at him with pity swelling in her chest when she saw Asahi's mirror image staring back. "If this is the price of murder, then it's far too cheap."