𝑫𝒀𝑵𝑨𝑺𝑻𝒀 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑺 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋 - 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈)

TWENTY YEARS AGO, December 17th, 1997 –

KINZOKU NIKO WAS EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD WHEN SHE DECIDED TO FORSAKE EVERYTHING SHE KNEW IN THE NAME OF LOVE. His name was James Adderan, a foreign exchange student the young Kinzoku girl met at the bus station. James had been lost, asking for directions with the worst possible Japanese accent there was, the map he held in his hands dripping with rainwater. From the first moment Niko laid eyes on him, she was ruined.

One look, one touch – their fingers brushed for less than a second, Niko's hands freezing cold as she leaned over to show him the route in the map –, that was all it took. One look and Niko knew she was completely, madly and utterly in love. It didn't matter that he was a mortal, or a student, or a foreigner. Everything faded out becoming nothing more than background noise.

Kinzoku Niko was not naïve; the young sorceress knew there was no such thing as love at first sight. To her, love was a contractual obligation, the kind that had set her future in stone long before she was even born. Niko's destiny had been clear since the beginning, as the twinless child of Asahi, she was expected to marry a respectable member of the Jujutsu Society and produce as many heirs as her body allowed.

Niko did not rue her fate. After all, this was all she'd known. Then, James came in, and everything the woman used to believe in was turned upside down. Niko didn't know much about love, but she guessed this is what it felt like. Like the world stopped spinning for a second, like her heart leapt in her chest. Like she could see colour for the first time.

From the moment the young Kinzoku girl first laid eyes on him, she knew he was the one. Her other other half. A gift Niko didn't know she'd get after the death of her first one, when her twin tumbled down a ravine, splitting his skull open against the rocks. Niko didn't think people got another chance at love, yet, here she was, falling for someone all over again.

Maybe that's what pushed her to embark on this mad crusade, even when she knew her father would fight her every step of the way. That was his way, after all. Love was never part of the future Asahi had hoped to craft for either of his daughters. Not for Niko at eighteen-years-old and not for Mikazuki at eight.

It wasn't how their world worked, not when so many bloodlines demanded to be protected, not when their gift of Goldblood could so easily be muddied away. Keeping the Kinzoku bloodline alive was the elder's primary concern, and when Niko walked in hand in hand with a mortal, it was as if the world shifted in its axis.

The dinner was quiet, a sepulchral silence filling the room as the family sat around the large oak table. Tonight was inner circle only, meaning a lone seven people sat at the dinner table. Asahi sat at the head, as his title requested. On the other edge and with a very pregnant belly was Hide, one of the twins at either side of her. Himari was sitting in the corner, her silence almost as telling as the look in her eyes as she eyed James. The boy – the mortal whom she loved, was sitting in her brother's place. The chair had been empty long enough.

The dinner was a disaster long before it started. Asahi cleared his throat, his gaze cold as he eyed his daughter with a certain disappointment swimming in his golden irises. The man was calm, his robes heavy on his slender frame while his skin remained pale under the light of the chandelier. Despite his serene demeanour, Niko was still on edge, her fingers digging into the fat skin of her thighs as she tried to keep herself still. A drop of sweat ran down her temple, nervousness spreading throughout her body like a crashing wave.

At eighteen-years-old, she should be more than accustomed to her father's ways, yet his stare was still petrifying enough to pin her in place, all of his grandeur making her feel small even when standing next to eight-year-old Mikazuki, her similarly-aged twin on the other side of the table. Niko had expected resistance from her father, not whatever this ceremonious silence was supposed to be.