In the day following my outburst with Satoshi, I noticed many of the first years giving me a wide berth in the halls when I pass. Guess word really does travel fast around here.

  The shower stalls are quiet as I wash for the morning, letting the water run along my face. The sun barely peeking over the mountains, casting soft orange and red hues through the far windows.

  I step out of the stall and wrap a fluffy towel around my body, careful not to tie it too tight to aggravate my ribs. I open my locker and pull out my uniform that I left to hang as I washed. I’m glad I learned how to sew - I ripped a button off yesterday when I kept fiddling with it after the fight with Satoshi.

  Fight. That's a polite word for what happened. I accused his clan of murdering my mother and watched something close to guilt flash through those blue eyes before he shut down completely. The memory sits in my stomach like lead. I meant every word, but part of me wonders if throwing that at him was worth whatever consequences are coming.

  I had knocked on Misaka’s dorm before heading here to see if she wanted to join me, only to find her wrapped up in bed with Shinji. That was fast. At least one of us is getting a few much-needed orgasms. At this rate I’m tempted to give Aki a call just to get this heat out of my system.

  Aki. I grimace as I finish braiding my hair into a crown. I can’t believe I’m even considering that again.

  I pull my jacket on and grab my bag on the way out, passing rows of empty lockers that used to belong to trial candidates. The metal doors hang open, swinging lightly from the draft of the morning chill. I shove open the exit and step into the empty halls. My boots echo against the polished floor.

  Shiori stands in the courtyard. I catch sight of her dark brown hair through one of the huge windows. Something in my chest warms.

  Shiori's the only person who understands what losing Mum actually means, the only one who doesn't need me to explain why I can't just let it go. If anyone will understand why I said what I said to Satoshi, it'll be her. Even if she's going to be furious with me for the recklessness of it.

  I push open the double doors to the stone courtyard, and sprint towards her.

  “What the hell are you doing here?!” I throw my arms around her neck and pull her down to my height. She lets out a soft oof sound, and chuckles.

  “I was called in for debriefing after a sweep of the Shinjuku dead zone.” She hugs me back with equal force and buries her face into the crook of my shoulder. She pulls back and steadies me by the shoulders, pinning me with a sharp look.

  “I told you to run if you came across Satoshi Gojo. Instead you’re training with him and apparently you had a standoff with him yesterday.” She exhales slowly, and her grip loosens. “Don’t try and be a hero, Ren. He’s dangerous. He could kill you before you even knew what was happening.”

  I narrow my eyes at her.

  “One, how did you find out? You’ve been in dead zones” I bring my hand up to list on my fingers. “Two, I had no choice in the training. That was a Higher-ups decision. Dad agreed.” I let out a shaky breath. “And three, he was lecturing me about sorcerer deaths like I haven’t seen the body counts on Dad’s desk my entire life. I didn’t attack him physically. But … I did bring up mum’s death and how the Gojo clan were responsible.”

  Shiori goes deathly still. Her hands fall from my shoulders and curl into fists at her sides. A muscle ticks in her jaw, and when she exhales through her nose, it’s harsh enough that I take a step back.

  “You told him –” she stops, closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose before opening her eyes again and the green is burning. “You accused Satoshi Gojo and his clan of killing mum.”

  She isn’t questioning me.

  “He was being a condescending prick-”

  “I don’t care.” Her voice is low and controlled, meaning that she’s barely holding it together. She steps forward, closing the distance I created. “What did he say? Did he threaten you?”

  “No, he just-“

  “Did. He. Threaten. You.” She punctuates each word.

  “He said what his clan did had nothing to do with him.” My voice is small and quiet. “Then he left.”

  Shiori’s hands come up to cup my face, tilting my head so she can scan me for injuries. Her thumbs brush my cheekbones and I feel the tremor in her fingers.

  “He could’ve killed you, Ren.” Her voice cracks on my name. “Right in the training room. Infinity means you’d never even touch him, and Blue could’ve –” She swallows hard. “You don’t provoke a Gojo. Especially not about family.”

  “I know.” My jaw clenches. I’m sick of everyone trying to protect me.

  “Do you?” her fingers twitch. “Because from where I’m standing, you just painted a target on your back and, I can’t –” her breath hitches. “I already lost Mum. I’m not losing you too.”

  The comparison stings more than I want to admit. Mum died because she went into a mission alone, because she thought she didn't need backup, because she was trying to prove something. And yesterday I stood in that training room and threw her death in Satoshi's face like a weapon, knowing full well it could've gotten me killed. Maybe Shiori has a point about me being reckless.

  “Shiori,” I rub my hand along the back of my neck. “You know I love you, right?” She nods, brows furrowing. “I can take care of myself. I know that my fight with Satoshi was stupid. But someone needed to put him in his place. I’m careful enough to know when I should back down.” Not a complete lie. Though my track record of pushing too far in the face of someone dangerous and paying for it suggests otherwise.

  She stares at me for a long moment, and concern flashes across her face.

  “I know you’re capable, Ren. But you’re the only family I care about and I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” She braces her hand on the back of my neck and pulls me close, resting her forehead against mine. “You’re my baby sister, but you’re right. I do need to back off. I can’t wrap you in bubble wrap all your life.”

  Not Dad. Not the Sazama legacy. Just me.

  It reminds me that I’m not alone in this, even when it feels like the whole institution is designed to isolate us from each other.

  “Thanks.” My throat tightens around the word. “For showing up.”

  She pulls back and her mouth curves, but the smile doesn’t last long. She checks her watch and I can see her switching gears, pushing the emotion aside to focus on what’s practical.

  “What’s your schedule today? Don’t tell me you have Satoshi first thing.”

  Thank fuck for the topic change. Any more heart-to-heart and I might actually have to acknowledge I have emotions.

  I shake my head. “Cursed Energy Theory with Nakamura-sensei, then joint combat drills with the second-years.”

  “Misaka?”

  “Yeah, and probably Shinji.” I shrug. “He invited us to some group thing tonight at the abandoned temple in the foothills of Mt. Mushiro. Making connections apparently.”

  A group of second-years passes through the courtyard behind us, their voices carrying across the stone archways. I shift my weight and pull my jacket tighter. The morning chill is starting to seep through now that I'm standing still.

  “Shinji Kamo?” Her brow lifts. “The clan heir?”

  “He’s not what I expected from a Kamo. He actually seems … normal?”

  Shiori snorts and bites her lips shut. I narrow my eyes at her before she bursts out laughing.

  “Nobody in this place is normal, Ren. They’re all insane on some level.”

  I can’t stop the laughter that claws at my throat, and I join her in laughing. I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Normal doesn’t exist in our world.”

  Shiori checks her watch again and her laughter fades. “You’ve got Cursed Energy Theory in twenty minutes, right? With Nakamura-sensei?”

  I drag a hand down my face with a dramatic groan. “Don’t remind me. Two hours of listening to him drone on about cursed energy flow and how to spot residuals. Can’t wait.”

  “It’s better than getting thrown into walls by Fushiguro.” She bumps my shoulder and grins. “Or whatever fresh shitshow Satoshi has planned for you.”

  My stomach twists at his name. The fight from yesterday still sits heavy between us – your clan murdered my mother reverberates through my mind, and the guilt that flashed through his eyes before he shut down completely. I shouldn’t feel bad for what I said. It’s the truth. But seeing that guilt cross his face, made me realise that he maybe does have some emotions.

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  “I’ll survive Nakamura-sensei. Barely.” I adjust my bag on my good shoulder. “No promises that I won’t take a quick nap though.”

  Shiori tuts and raises a finger, wagging it at me. I bite back a laugh at her mock scolding.

  “Try not to make too many enemies before dinner. You’ve already pissed off Gojo, and that arrogant prick Sora is gunning for you.”

  “Sora can fuck off, and then when he’s fucked off, he can fuck off some more.”

  “You really do have a way with words.” She pulls me into a quick hug, careful not to bump my ribs. “I’ve got a briefing with Dad and the Higher-ups about the Shinjuku sweep. Meet me for lunch after your drills?”

  “Sure. East courtyard?”

  “Perfect.” She releases me and starts walking backwards in the direction of the dojo. “And Ren? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She winks at me before spinning to face the right way and sauntering off.

  I smile to myself, with Shiori that could mean don’t get into a fight or don’t get into bed with someone you’ll regret being with in the morning. I watch her retreating back and my smile drops. The weight of everything washes over me as soon as I’m alone. Special Grade. Bound to Jujutsu society. Assigned to the heir of the clan who killed my mother and probably wants me dead more than anyone else in this cursed place. Sora’s begging to take me down too. What a fun life I have now. It’s either running for my life or running from my romantic problems.

  I hitch my bag higher up my shoulder and head towards the classrooms.

  The halls are more lively than the days before the trials. First, second and third years loiter outside lecture halls and the gymnasium. Some are in their standard uniform, others are in training gear and holding wooden staffs or swords. One thing I notice about everyone though, is that every eye in these halls tracks my movement, and whispers break out. I catch parts of each conversation as I stroll past with my spine straightened and my chin tilted upwards.

  “That’s her –“

  “Special grade? Looking like that?”

  “Heard her heart stopped twice –”

  “She’s Gojo’s problem now, I’m not sure whether to feel sorry for him or her –”

  Fuck my life. I’ve spent so much time training my body and mind. The passing comments don’t hold much weight, but hearing that people are either in awe or terrified of me doesn’t sit right in my stomach.

  The faint smell of something burning fills the air. I hoped it was my sanity going up in flames. Unfortunately for me, it was a second year who let their cursed technique get out of control. Fire manipulation. Maybe I can become friends with them and ask them to burn my reputation.

  A faculty member rushes past me, the air distorts behind them. Now, that is fascinating. That wasn’t projection sorcery, so they either trained to become faster or they have a speed based technique. I’ll hope I have a lesson with that sensei.

  I round the corner and start climbing the stairs to the upper classrooms. They lead onto an open walkway, separated by a rotting wooden railing. I’m not sure I want to find out what would happen if I lent on that. Probably certain death.

  I brush my hand along the ornate designs that run along the stained wood walls, feeling every bump and sharp edge.

  I used to sprint along this walkway when Mum was still around. I’d chase Shiori towards the unused classrooms, nestled in the far corner. We used to think they were haunted. Groans and scratching could be heard most of the day. Turns out, it wasn’t haunted in the slightest. The groaning was from structural points that had been rotting and the scratching was a through wind causing the door to lightly sway against the flooring.

  Mum and Dad had to fight their laughter when we’d told them we’d discovered the “ghost”. Mum had told us we were braver than most sorcerers twice our age. That’s the last memory I have of Dad genuinely laughing and smiling.

  I wonder what Mum would think of me now. Special Grade, bound to Jujutsu Society and training with a Gojo.

  She’d probably smack me round the back of the head for nearly dying in the trials. Or maybe she’d understand. She died trying to prove she didn’t need help. I nearly died trying to prove I was worthy of the Sazama name.

  Guess being headstrong runs in the family.

  I shake off the thought and spot Misaka standing with another sorcerer, outside Room CE-4. Another first year – a girl with split hair colours, purple and blue. I smile at Misaka and she beams back at me, tugging me to stand with her and the other girl.

  “This is Sakura Yashiro.” She gestures and the girl tilts her head giving me a half smile, a piercing through her bottom lip sparkles against the sunlight streaming onto the walkway, my eyes snag on the breathing tube that runs from her nose into a backpack.

  “Nice to meet you, you’re Ren, right?” her rose coloured eyes flick over my face.

  “Yeah,” I extend my hand to her and she looks me up and down before pulling me into a crushing hug, lifting me a few inches off the floor, to her height and pinning my arms to my sides.

  “Uh –“

  Misaka lets out a bark of laughter as she rests her hand against the wall. A group of second years side eye us as they walk past and they quicken their pace. My cheeks blaze and I feel her muscles strain as she squeezes me. The air is punched from my lungs.

  “Can’t. Breathe.” I wheeze

  “Oh shit, sorry!” Sakura drops me and I stumble back, catching myself on the railing. The rotting wood creaks under my weight and I snatch my hand back like it might crumble under my grip. What the fuck does this woman eat to have strength like that?

  “That’s some hug you have there.” I rub my ribs.

  She snorts and it makes her hair brush over her collarbone. “I don’t realise my strength half the time. I was born with a Heavenly Restriction,” I raise a brow at her. She’s not a Zenin or an Okkotsu, so she doesn’t have the Zenin clan ‘curse’. She takes my silence as a queue to continue.

  “I’m able to bench press a car, move faster than most sorcerers and my body is more resilient against cursed energy attacks. But I have to drag this thing around everywhere so I can breathe.” She jerks her thumb to the backpack on her shoulders. “Can’t breathe, but I can throw you through a building.”

  My eyes widen and my mouth slides open.

  “Shit. That’s one hell of a trade-off.” I glance at the tube taped to her cheek. “It’s not called Heavenly Restriction for nothing, I guess.”

  “A small trade, it could’ve been worse.” She grins down at me. At least she doesn’t see it as something to hold her back. I wish I had optimism like that.

  “She put a third-year through a wall last week,” Misaka adds with a smirk.

  “He deserved it.” Sakura’s face sours. “He kept saying that my Heavenly Restriction was a ‘defect’ and that I should quit sorcery, become a pretty little wife to a ‘strong’ sorcerer.”

  “You’d think after the fall of the Zenin clan, misogyny wouldn’t be an issue anymore.” I scrunch my nose.

  “Yeah, well, some sorcerers are stuck in far right-wing politics. I don’t think misogyny will ever be fully eradicated.” She clenches her hand into a fist and her muscles go taut under her jacket, before she lets out a shaky breath.

  “But, I showed that dick how defective I really am.” She declares loudly with a snarky smile. “I punched him through a brick wall. He’s still recovering in medical. Shoko has been conveniently unable to fully heal his broken jaw.”

  I cover my mouth with my hand to stop the snort of laughter that rises from my chest.

  “Terrible shame.”

  “And that ladies, is why women stick together.” Misaka chimes in as she leans into me.

  She has a point. Since Maki Zenin took out the Zenin Clan, women started sticking together as a form of defiance.

  There was a brief period around a decade ago where a large group of men were rushed into a local hospital. A curse user was attacking sexist men with a cursed tool that inflicted poison and killed the victim slowly. Women sorcerers across Japan turned a blind eye, and honestly? I don’t blame them. It started a ripple effect and women sorcerers were given more rights, but it didn’t completely remove the sexism within jujutsu society.

  A frosty breeze plays with the hem of my skirt, and it makes me wrap my arms across my chest. I should’ve opted for thermal leggings. A fleece jacket is loosely draped over my shoulders and I turn to find Aki grinning down at me.

  “I’d rather die of hypothermia.” I shrug his jacket off, and the asshole pouts.

  “I was being a gentleman.”

  My eye twitches violently.

  “You and gentlemen don’t belong in the same sentence.”

  His gaze flits over Sakura and his whole attitude changes, the pout vanishes and his face flashes with something I’ve learned means ‘I’m about to ‘woo’ you. Oh boy. I silently pray to Fukurokuju – the god of luck – that Aki finds himself thrown from this walkway for flirting with the wrong woman.

  His sandy brown hair falls over his brows and he does his best smoulder. I bite my lips together and turn my head into Misaka’s shoulder to stifle the cackle that breaks my lips.

  “Is he planning to fuck the whole school before the year is up?” Misaka breathes into my ear.

  “Probably, and knowing Aki he’s probably close to that goal.” I whisper back.

  Aki shoots me a smug smirk and lifts his brows. Yeah, he’s close to completing that. Gods, I hate him.

  He bends his back and places a foot behind himself, bowing low to Sakura. “Well, hello beautiful.”

  Oh no. He’s using the suave voice. The one that made me fall for his charms.

  Sakura gives him an unreadable look before doubling over and clutching her stomach with a full belly laugh. Mine and Misaka’s shoulders shake in silent laughter. Aki’s smirk never falters. I’ll give him credit where it’s due, the man can handle rejection like a pro.

  “I appreciate the offer but you’re not exactly my type, pretty boy. I prefer people who don’t have a reputation. Aki Fuju. No introductions needed, you fucked my cousin last weekend, and then my step-brother two hours later.”

  “Let’s not forget, two nights ago when you crawled into my bed.” Misaka adds as she presses her lips into a thin line.

  I adore both of these women.

  Aki straightens with exaggerated flourish, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.

  “I worked especially hard for that reputation.”

  “We know.” Every voice in the line that formed outside the classroom replies in unison. Well, that confirms it. He has fucked most of the school.

  Me, Misaka and Sakura slowly turn to the small crowd that’s gathered behind us. At least ten students. A mix of first, second and third years. All staring at Aki with varying levels of disgust or want. Holy shit.

  Aki whirls on them and throws his arms out either side of himself, plastering a bright smile across his face.

  “Ladies, gentlemen. Back for more?” He wiggles his brows.

  A short guy with shoulder length deep brown hair steps forward and drags his piercing blue eyes over Aki before breaking into a grin.

  “I’ll take round two, Fuju.”

  “Yes! See? I’ve got game.” He looks pointedly in my direction, like he’s just won some unspoken game.

  At least someone’s getting laid, even if it is Aki. Again. And again. A pang of jealousy rushes over me. I need to take someone to bed ASAP, before I fucking combust.

  A large hand grips my arm and shoves me into Misaka and Sakura, making me stumble before Misaka’s arms wrap under my armpits, holding me upright.

  “Sazama. You’re always in my way. Move. Unless you want to die outside of lesson.” Grey eyes look down on me, like I deserve something worse than death.

  Fucking Sora.

  My breath hitches and my mouth goes dry. I’m going to be murdered. Thrown over the railing to the courtyard below. He could easily lift me, before anyone could react. Misaka drops her hold on me and glares at him, her lips part and I see her chest rise as she takes a deep breath.

  Sakura’s hand clamps over his wrist and he stiffens, eyes going wide. His skin goes bone white under her grasp.

  “Take your hand off –”

  Nakamura-sensei swings the door open and it wobbles, bouncing off the wall, the hinges creak as he holds it steady with his shoulder.

  “Get in my classroom now. All of you.” He glances over the crowd, narrowing his eyes as they land on Aki. “Fuju, don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  Aki rolls his eyes and slings an arm around the guy who asked for more, leading him towards the dorms.

  “Yashiro, take your hand off Yomizaki. He needs that wrist to take notes in my class.” Nakamura pries Sakura’s fingers from Sora’s wrist. “If you’re going to kill each other. Do it outside of learning hours.”

  Sakura lets her hand be taken from Sora, but she pins him with a look that promises pain if he steps out of turn. Sora scowls at her but backs off under Nakamura’s stern gaze.

  The crowd shifts and feet drag across the solid flooring, I follow everyone into the classroom, sticking close to Misaka and Sakura.

  I want one day where I don’t almost die.