Chapter Text
April 4th, 2017. / 19:12 / Gojo Estate, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan
Gojo arrives after sunset. The Estate is silent as he strides through the long corridors. The staff bows in respect before resuming their duties.
Liv is standing near the engawa with Nova when the gate opens.
She does not turn immediately. That would be rude. Instead, she finishes pouring the tea she is not particularly interested in drinking, sets the kettle aside, and waits. Tap, tap, tap, tap. She counts the steps, focusing on their weight and rhythm.
“Well,” Gojo says brightly, stepping into view, “don’t you look domestic.”
Liv finally turns. She eyes the man, head to toe, before looking behind him.
A boy. Black hair, unevenly cut. Hands in his pockets. Shoulders squared. His gaze flicks across the courtyard once, twice, then settles somewhere past Liv’s shoulder as though he has already decided she is not the problem here.
Megumi Fushiguro looks nothing like the baby she remembers. That, she thinks to herself, is the point of time.
She inclines her head slightly. “Welcome back.”
“Missed me already?” Gojo asks.
“Desperately,” she replies without pause.
Nova peeks out from behind Liv’s sleeve. The boy notices immediately, and his eyes sharpen. Nova shrinks back. Liv places a hand on the child’s shoulder.
“This is Liv Drakon,” Gojo says, gesturing vaguely in her direction, as if introducing furniture. “You’ve heard of her, right? Mistress of Shuuin, most wanted woman, blah blah blah - ”
Liv arches a brow. “I’m standing right here, dear.”
“And doing a great job, darling,” he adds cheerfully.
She turns her attention to the boy. “You must be Megumi.”
Megumi stiffens almost imperceptibly.
“Fushiguro,” he corrects her bluntly.
His voice is low for his age. He does not bow.
Liv smiles - not unkindly. “I’m Liv Drakon. It’s a pleasure.”
Megumi’s gaze flicks to her face at that. “... Likewise.”
Gojo beams as if this exchange has gone exactly as he pictured it.
“So,” he says, clapping his hands together softly, “Megumi will be staying with us for a bit.”
Liv looks at him. She does not speak. Gojo waits. She waits longer.
Eventually, he scratches his cheek.
“Training,” he adds. “Change of scenery. You know. Growth.”
“I wasn’t aware your house is a boarding school,” Liv says mildly.
“It ain’t,” he replies. “This one’s exclusive.”
Megumi’s jaw tightens. Liv notices. She shifts her focus to her husband. Hazel eyes flicker red as she steadies her breath and clears her mind. Gojo meets her gaze over the boy’s head and smiles sweetly.
Ah.
She mirrors his expression. Megumi glances at him, irritation flaring briefly before being crushed back down. Liv notes that too.
She then gestures toward Nova. “This is Nova.”
The girl hesitates, then bows.
“Hello,” she says, voice small.
Megumi freezes. He offers a nod through great effort. The slight shimmer of the girl’s bindings catches his eye. He stares at them rather inquisitively. Nova fidgets, fingers curling into her sleeves. Liv steps subtly between them, breaking the line of sight without comment.
“I think rooms have been prepared,” she says to Gojo. “Why don’t you have someone show Megumi to his?”
“Good idea,” Gojo says.
He ruffles Megumi’s hair as he passes. The boy flinches. Gojo does not notice, or pretends not to. Nova watches them leave like a startled animal until they disappear from the corridor.
Only then does she relax.
“That boy’s scary,” Nova whispers.
Liv hums. “He seems sad to me.”
Nova considers this. “That’s worse.”
Liv does not disagree.
///
April 7th, 2017. / 19:30 / Gojo Estate, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan
The snow has retreated into memory, leaving behind damp soil and the smell of rot sweetened by new growth. Moss creeps back over stones that once bit with frost.
Yet, the forest surrounding the Estate is still cold.
Tove crouches at the base of a cedar, knees drawn close, cloak pulled tight against the lingering cold. The ground beneath her is wet enough to seep through layers if she stays still too long. She ignores it.
Above them, cherry branches stretch thin fingers toward the moon, blossoms half-spent. Petals drift down intermittently, pale against the dark, catching in Rune’s hair before sliding free. She swats one away with irritation.
“This is ridiculous,” she mutters. “We’re not criminals.”
“We are not welcome either,” Tove replies quietly.
Rune shoots her a look. “You know what I mean.”
Tove does. She simply does not indulge it.
Instead, she keeps her eyes on the Estate beyond the trees. A prison that smiles.
“Liv would hate this,” Rune continues, voice pitched low but sharp. “Hiding. Waiting for permission. She is the Shuuin mistress - no, she’s Gojo’s wife for fuck’s sake!”
Liv would hate many things, Tove thinks. This would not even make the list.
“She told us to keep our distance,” Tove says. “For now.”
Rune rolls her eyes. “She told us not to get caught.”
Tove blinks. “That too.”
Rune exhales, breath fogging faintly in the cool air. “She didn’t tell us to let them lock her up.”
Tove finally looks at her. Rune’s eyes are bright - not with fear, but with a simmering, uncontained anger that has nowhere to go. The natural redness in them is that much more vivid. That is the thing with the redhead spy: all edges, no patience for slow strategies or quiet suffering. Rune can endure much; Tove wonders if this is truly as far as she can go.
“This is leverage,” Tove says evenly. “The alternative of letting herself and Nova fall into the hands of the higher-ups.”
Rune’s mouth twists. “Leverage doesn’t usually come with servants acting as guards and a husband who decides who gets to see the sky.”
Tove does not correct her.
A movement near the inner perimeter draws her attention. Two figures pass briefly through a gap in the trees. One tall, unmistakable even through the distortion of layered barriers; the other smaller, rigid in posture.
A child.
Tove narrows her eyes.
“That’s new,” Rune whispers, following her gaze.
The spymaster nods.
“Great,” Rune mutters. “They’re collecting them now.”
Tove watches as the pair disappears into the Estate proper.
“Huh,” Rune continues. “You feel that?”
Tove resists the urge to shudder. “I do.”
They lapse into silence.
“I don’t like it,” Rune says at last.
Tove’s fingers curl slightly in her cloak. Another petal lands on Rune’s sleeve. She flicks it away harder than necessary.
“So what are we doing?” she asks. “Because watching her fade behind paper walls is not a plan.”
Tove glances once more toward the Estate.
“She can’t fight her way out of this,” she says. “We wait.”
“And then?”
Tove meets Rune’s gaze then, calm and unyielding.
“Then,” she says, “we’ll see.”
The forest stirs, blossoms falling like quiet applause.
Somewhere inside the Estate, a light goes out.
///
April 7th, 2017. / 22:44 / Gojo Estate, Kyoto Prefecture, Japan
Megumi lies awake longer than he means to.
His room smells faintly of cedar and clean linen. He stares at the ceiling until the patterns blur, thoughts looping without landing anywhere useful. When sleep finally takes him, it does so reluctantly, like a debt collected late.
Down another hall, Nova curls on her side with her hands tucked beneath her chin, bindings humming softly as they adjust to the slow rhythm of her breath. Dreams pass her by tonight.
Gojo’s study is the only place still awake on purpose.
Light pools over the desk in a warm, contained circle, caught between shelves heavy with books that are mostly decorative and papers that are mostly lies. Gojo sits with one leg hooked over the arm of his chair, tablet balanced carelessly in one hand. Blue eyes flick across the screen, sharp, bored, unreadable.
He exhales through his nose. “Tch.”
Liv enters without a sound. She stops just inside the threshold, watching him for a beat longer than necessary. He doesn’t look up. He doesn’t need to.
“You’re late,” he says.
“You’re distracted,” she replies.
He hums. “Occupational hazard.”
She steps closer. Still nothing. No shift in cursed energy, not even in warning. If she were anyone else, she’d be proud.
“Your footwork’s impressive,” he adds mildly. “I almost didn’t notice.”
“Almost,” she says.
He grins. “Careful. You’ll put my students to shame.”
“Which ones?” she asks, resting her hands lightly on the back of his chair.
“All of them,” he says, without hesitation.
Her thumbs press in, just below his shoulders.
He stills.
“That’s unfair,” she murmurs. “They’re young.”
Her hands move with practiced ease, finding the familiar knots at the base of his neck. He sighs despite himself, chin tipping forward a fraction.
“Your friends in the shrubbery,” he continues, voice lazy, “need to work on their breathing.”
She doesn’t stop. “You sensed them.”
The corner of his mouth lifts ever so slightly. “Mm-hmm. Hard not to.”
“And you’re not concerned.”
“I’m flattered, actually,” he says. “They’re very dedicated.”
Liv smiles faintly. “You could have them removed.”
“I could,” he agrees, “but then what would they do with themselves?”
“Freeze anyway,” she says.
He laughs. “April’s kinder than you think.”
Her fingers shift, kneading deeper now, coaxing tension loose rather than demanding it. He leans into it without comment, a tacit admission.
“You’re busy,” she says.
He hums. “Always am.”
She blinks. “Important things.”
“Define important,” he cocks his head to the side.
She presses her thumb just a little harder, and he hisses. “Hey.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not,” he says fondly.
She isn’t.
They fall into a companionable silence broken only by the soft scratch of fabric. Outside, a breeze lifts the branches. Petals tap against the eaves and slide away.
“You brought a boy into a cesspool of politics,” she says eventually, tone mild enough to pass for idle observation.
He shrugs under her hands. “I bring children into danger all the time. This is nothing unusual.”
She frowns. “That’s not an answer.”
“Neither is that.”
She hums, thoughtful, and adjusts her angle. His shoulders drop another notch.
“You shut me out,” she says.
“I closed a door,” he corrects. “Temporarily, of course.”
“You don’t usually lock them.”
He tilts his head back slightly, looking up at her from beneath his lashes. “You don’t usually knock.”
“Touché.”
He watches her face for a moment - calm, composed, eyes giving nothing away. He smiles, softer this time.
“You’re being very patient,” he notes.
“I’ve been told that’s a spousal virtue,” she replies.
“Oh,” he says. “That explains the massage.”
“And the restraint.”
“Terrible, I’m sure,” he murmurs.
Her hands pause just for a breath. Then they resume.
“Is he safe here?” she asks, as if asking about the weather.
Gojo considers his tablet, taps the screen off, and sets it aside. He folds his hands over his stomach, gaze drifting to the ceiling.
“For tonight at least,” he says.
She accepts that. “And tomorrow?”
He smiles. She snorts. He flicks a glance toward the window.
She leans closer, forearms resting lightly on his shoulders now, her voice near his ear. “You’re carrying more than usual.”
He leans in slightly. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Must be the tablet,” he says.
She pinches, and he yelps. “Ow!”
“Don’t insult me.”
He laughs, unguarded. “You’re scary.”
“That’s the point.”
Another silence. He exhales. Long. Slow. She presses her forehead briefly to the back of his head. Not quite an embrace. Not quite not. He touches her wrist lightly.
Outside, the forest holds its breath. Tove counts the lights. Rune watches the study window and does not blink.
Inside, Gojo closes his eyes and lets her hands keep him anchored to the present.