𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐙𝐎𝐊𝐔

THE TRIP THAT FOLLOWED WAS LONG, it involved multiple plane rides, more bullet trains than she could count and expensive cars like the one she'd been first picked up in. Some of it was familiar, this was the life she used to live before being labelled a traitor – a murderer, really – but most of it was a distant memory Mikazuki had no intent in reviving.

This had never been her world, it was just the role her father had tried to push her into, turning a blind eye when she started drowning.

Once they touched down at Tokyo's airport – first class, with champagne flutes waiting for her at the door as an air-hostess flashed her a bright smile –, it was another last train ride home.

Except home was not where she was headed, that would involve far more drama than what Mikazuki was willing to endure in her lifetime. Not that she could avoid it forever, but at least a couple of days should buy her enough time to find the patience to deal with the vultures – also known as her family.

Instead, it was a five star hotel on the outskirts of Tokyo, the kind of hotel that most people didn't even dream of being able to afford. Of course, it was all courtesy of dad's credit card, not that Mikazuki had any qualms on using it.

Seeing as her family was clearly set on buying her, at least she'd make it an expensive purchase. Besides, playing the bratty heir was far funnier than allowing the hollowness to settle inside of her chest, right inside of the whole where her heart should be. But she didn't have one of those anymore, so, good riddance.

Mikazuki buried herself in the plush seats of the car, watching as the Tokyo skyline slowly blurred into a quieter landscape, the bustling of the city dying out as soon as they were out in the interstate. The trip to the hotel was strange, and Mikazuki couldn't help but keep glancing outside of the window every now at then, marvelling at whatever crossed their path.

Ten years in exile meant ten years in which Mikazuki had been completely cut off from society, and although she wasn't banished to the middle ages, the village she'd been calling home for the past decade in the wilds of La Patagonia had little to no connections to the outside world.

Mikazuki furrowed her brow, looking down at the phone the Window had bought for her at the airport. The device was small – far smaller than any phones she last saw – the screen was flat, and she could unlock it with a single swipe of her thumb. The sorceress turned the device around, wincing the moment the logo flashed on the screen.

Kinzoku Conglomerate.

Of course her family company had diversified into technology as well, because why the fuck not.

Mikazuki put the phone back into her pocket, making a mental note to chuck it in the bin as soon as she was got out of the car. She could buy a new one at the mall – or better yet, she could launch it at her father's face at the funeral.

She chuckled. Keisuke would have loved that.

A nostalgic feeling settling inside of Mikazuki's soul, however, reminding herself exactly where she was and why, she was quick to discard it, her usually lively golden eyes turning sullen and cold.

Kinzoku Mikazuki wasn't here to mourn her brother – she was here to burn her father's kingdom into ashes.

The car pulled into the parking lot, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Mikazuki found she didn't know what to do. This had been her choice – coming back to Japan, check in at the hotel – but everything had been done in a haze, the true goal of her trip clouding everything else. But she was here now, and her missing heart (wherever it was, because it surely wasn't inside of her chest) fluttered.

Mikazuki stepped out of the car, casting a glance towards the tall building of the hotel. She certainly had chosen the most expensive one, the gold plated letters on the entrance spelling out TSUKI. The sorceress smiled, bypassing the puddle on the floor and walking to the entrance. The security guard at the door quickly reached towards her, put off by her sweatpants and wet shirt along with her messy hair. Right now, Mikazuki look like everything except like the heiress of one of the most prominent companies in Japan.

Mikazuki scoffed, falling back into the spoiled brat personality she and her brother defaulted to a little too easily. The security guard stiffened, stepping out of the way and nodding towards her with an apologetic gaze. Her eighteen-year-old self would have scrambled to apologize for being rude, but that part of Mikazuki was currently just as dead as Keisuke, if not more.

Mikazuki stood on the hall, dragging mud into the plush beige carpet while a few of the customers glared at her. Whatever, she was here to play a part. The woman quickly reached towards the front desk, plopping down her dirty duffel bag and the gold-plated (because, of course) credit card, the rattling sound loud enough to startle everyone in the hall.

A woman with a pretty face and copious amounts of make-up rushed to the desk, eyeing the bag with a dirty look before collecting the credit card.

"I'm afraid we no longer have any rooms available..." She started, entering her pre-made speech for 'unwelcome' guests.

Joke's on her, Mikazuki was fucking loaded. Well, Asahi was the one with a fortune in his pockets, but... semantics.

"Actually, I have a reservation." Mikazuki tried, already seeing the cogs turn inside this poor Hospitality staff member.

"There must have been a mistake, Miss..." the woman paused, glancing at the name spelled out on the credit card in perfect kanji.

She looked up again, eyes slanted into a confused expression before looking back down at the card and tapping it against the counter, the sound of gold colliding against marble echoing in the hall.

"I doubt it, but go ahead, call your supervisor if you want." Mikazuki paused, a devilish grin appearing on her features as she leaned forward against the counter, water dripping from her clothes and landing on the soft carpet. "I can't wait to tell my daddy about it. The name's Kinzoku, by the way. I'm pretty sure you know it's spelled, considering it's on the sign outside, or do you need me to call the manager to teach you how to write your biggest sponsor's name?"

Oh, yeah.

Apparently ten years in exile also meant ten years of not being an asshole. Thankfully, Mikazuki was quick to pick it back up. It was almost like she never left in the first place.