Ataraxia 平静 | Gojo Satoru

-'๑'-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒𝟖-'๑'-

From the instant my feet touched the ground and my shadows dissolved into the earth, I knew I was being followed. I didn't need to glance over my shoulder to confirm it.

My body felt like it had been carved from stone, my mind torn wide open, but I couldn't summon a single coherent thought. Only cold, burning rage and a hollow ache gnawed at my insides as I rushed up the polished marble steps, shoving the massive doors wide.

The moment my arms dropped to my sides and I halted, silence engulfed the hall. Rows of austere faces stared down at me, the higher-ups of the Jujutsu world arranged like gods on their lofty thrones, prepared to deliver judgment.

"Easy," Gojo whispered beside me. I didn't turn to look at him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yuta needs time with the Council. Take it easy."

I blinked slowly, my gaze sweeping over the countless faces in the crowd. Some were grim, others confused. A few frowned or raised their eyebrows, but most of the front rows were locked in glares, their expressions a mix of disdain and malice. I recognized the Zen'in sigil glinting on their robes.

I forced myself to focus on the air flowing through my nostrils, pushing aside the bitterness coiled within me. My attention finally drifted to the towering walls around us, and I had to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep the bile rising in my throat.

The grand trial room at Jujutsu Headquarters was as imposing as I remembered—a vast chamber steeped in echoes of ancient power and authority. Tall, arched windows cast slanted beams of sunlight across the dark wooden walls, highlighting the intricate carvings and sigils of the Jujutsu sorcerers.  The air was thick with tension, almost suffocating, as if the room itself held its breath in anticipation of my fate.

I had stood here once before.

The week after Rei's death, Principal Yaga had been put on trial for her murder. The same scent of worn wood and acrid sweat filled the air, clinging to my memories like a curse.

A hand clasped my elbow gently. "I'll be up there," Gojo murmured, and I finally turned to meet his gaze as he nodded towards the wooden dais.

My eyes locked onto Naobito Zen'in, seated in his gilded chair, a position of power he wore as easily as a crown. He was already staring down at me, a cold sneer twisting his thin lips. The crimson-cushioned seat next to him was vacant, as were the cobalt and black ones nearby. I swallowed hard, knowing exactly which of those seats would remain unoccupied.

"Hey," Gojo murmured, his fingers brushing against mine, pulling me from the depths of my thoughts. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I offered him a tight, bittersweet smile. "The punishment for my crimes is death."

Gojo shook his head. "I don't care."

"They care," I whispered, tilting my chin toward the higher-ups, their faces shrouded in shadow behind the ornate screens that separated them from the rest of us.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dark whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. "Then I'll have to kill every fucking higher-up in this building."

My eyes snapped to his, but he was already turning away, ascending the stairs to the wooden dais of the Big Four Clans. Or rather, the Three Clans. The Kurayami seat had been vacant for nearly two decades, a ghost of power long forgotten.

Principal Gakuganji Yoshinobu, the rigid and tradition-bound head of Kyoto Jujutsu High, struck his wooden gavel with a resounding crack, calling the trial to order. The gathered sorcerers, seated in a semicircle of dark, polished benches, fell into a tense silence. I glanced around, unease prickling my skin as the two guards flanking me urged me forward.