𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐍𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

WHEN KINZOKU KEISUKE DIED, Mikazuki was the first to know.

Not the cursed spirit that killed him, twisting his body and splattering his entrails on the wet concrete. Not the poor third-grade Jujutsu sorcerer he'd been mentoring at the time. Not Gojo Satoru, who kneeled in front of his twisted body. Not the paramedics who rushed to the scene.

And definitely not the Kinzoku clan when a Window appeared at their door, a single letter with the crest of The Magistrate and an empty apology on their lips.

No, the first to know was her. His sister. His twin.

Mikazuki had been training in the garden behind her cabin, practicing on a makeshift target when she felt it. At first, it was nothing but a phantom sensation in the entrails of her heart, the feeling strange but not concerning enough to halt her activities.

Then, an odd hollow snapping sound followed by a deafening silence, the golden threads of fate that connected her to her twin brother snapping in two and disappearing into thin air, almost like they were never there in the first place.

And just like that, the seal The Magistrate had placed on her powers came undone, the cursed energy rushing into her bones and flooding all her senses until she drowned in it.

And just like that, Mikazuki knew her brother was dead.

Ten years in exile, ten years living in this wasteland hating everything she left behind, and the sorceress had hoped it wouldn't hurt this much.

She was wrong.

Mikazuki kneeled on the ground, clawing at the frozen dirt as she cursed and cursed, gold seeping out from her wounds and drowning the world around her into its molten glory, coating every surface and climbing every tree until the landscape was nothing but liquid gold and still light. The sorceress screamed and screamed until her throat became raw, the tears falling from her eyes the same golden colour as the waves she'd just unleashed.

If this was the price she had to pay to get her powers back, than she'd rather not have them at all.

Turns out no amount of gold can fix a broken heart.

The letter arrived two days later, the envelope the darkest shade of black, the golden crest of the Kinzoku clan sitting on top of it. Peonies – those used to be her favourites, back when she still had a heart and a soul to mourn and not this empty space in her chest where it all should be. Mikazuki refused to open it, watching as it burned along with the logs she'd procured herself for the winter. The weather was harsh in these parts, especially during winter, although summers were also just as daunting.

When a second and third one arrived the following day, she resigned herself, picking up the letter opener and ripping the paper open. She expected an apology, a plea, a neat obituary with her brother's face printed at the top. She expected so many things, and yet nothing at all at the same time.

Funny how her family managed to still disappoint her.

Mikazuki stared down at the letter she held in her hand, the golden ink – because of course it was – seeping into the paper. For a second, she considered burning it, or returning it with a big fat dagger sitting on top of it, a dash of dried peonies and golden blood smeared on top, a symbol to show exactly how she felt about the Kinzoku. Somehow, none of these options seemed nearly enough. Not when the letter so clearly stated what the clan – her father, really – wanted from her.

There wasn't even mention of Keisuke or his funeral, what arrangements they made, what flowers they picked – just a simple sentence written in perfect calligraphy.