An Eye For An Eye

Prologue

OCTOBER 18th, 1952: REPORT TO THE
THREE GREAT CLANS—ZENIN, GOJO, KAMO

I: "EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: THE FURUSATO CLAN FLAGGED AS HIGH RISK DUE TO THE ONGOING ASSASSINATIONS AT THE HANDS OF AN UNIDENTIFIED SPECIAL GRADE CURSED SPIRIT."

II: "SO AS TO ACHIEVE THE PROTECTION OF THE CLANS AND SECURE THE WELL-BEING OF ALL JUJUTSU SORCERERS, THE FURUSATO CLAN, AS OF THIS 18TH DAY OF OCTOBER 1952, IS EXILED FROM JUJUTSU SOCIETY."

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JUNE 26th, 1998
THE FURUSATO RESIDENCE
TOKYO, JAPAN

"Again."

She'd been worked to the bone, pushed to the brink of indisposition as she doubled over, cursing herself for the display of weakness. Her father didn't move to come to her aid—he hadn't moved a muscle since the start of training four hours ago, and he had no intentions of doing so. Not until he'd seen perfection in his only daughter.

Do not be fooled—by no means was awaiting perfection a product of a proud father bestowing tough love to his gifted flesh and blood; the kind where she'd be rewarded a lifetime for her progress. There were no limits to his expectations, Satomi realized that quicker than either of her brothers could've in their day—When they were in her exact position, crouching below their tyrant of a father, saliva dripping down their chin and their legs trembling not from the pain, but rather, the internal strife. Flee, or die. The choice was always laid out plain as day and their father made that abundantly clear. The option to rebel however just seemed too terrifying to plan around and execute. None of them had the heart to go through with it.

She hated that about herself; allowing the abuse and submitting to the man. Exhausting herself until the skin of her palms were raw and the horrid metallic taste of blood lingered in the back of her throat from the strained cries of agony. Her mother heard these cries and watched from afar with the same unshakable standards. It mattered not that the nine-year-old had collapsed on her stomach from the paralyzing ache surging through her body, only that she shunned the pain to begin with. She'd find herself forced to feast her eyes into the endless tenebrosity lurking within her father's soul through identical irises, those same ones that withheld a thousand tales—all of which reflected his own traumas. She'd remind herself of that fact as he gripped a handful of her hair and jerked her head upwards, scolding her with rage and desperation in his voice for fighting the pain instead of welcoming it. Maybe all of this was Satomi's way of making excuses for her father's cruelty, seeing the humanity through his cold exterior.

One born with the blood of a Furusato doesn't live lavishly. They are severely punished for buckling under the weight of their burden—as good as dead if they could not offer an ounce of courage. No matter the age, a Furusato lives to redeem the clan and take back what was ripped beneath their feet. After decades of war and protest, hope seems to have finally been restored.

But only with Satomi; The strongest descendant the Furusato Clan has laid eyes upon since the 1951 assassination of the late Furusato Masaharu—the second head of the clan to meet their demise at the hands of the spirit that haunts this family.

〄

In the year 1990, under careful consideration, the higher-ups would deem Furusato Toshiro and Kinuyo worthy of representing the Clan in its examination for reentry into Jujutsu Society. What swayed their decision was the remarkable power sprouting in this new generation, ultimately leading to the production of grade one and special-grade one sorcerers across the board with the proper training in utilizing their abilities. Toshiro, Satomi's father, not only was a special-grade one sorcerer himself but passed his gift down to his eldest sons; Daisuke and Keiji. Of course, they were not the only ones. Other relatives represented the clan well, however, Toshiro in the end proved his wife and children to be most outstanding overall—he'd be the face of the Clan.

Despite the strength of the innate cursed technique within five-year-old Keiji and seven-year-old Daisuke, Toshiro finds that neither possesses the potential to execute his plans down the line. One-year-old Satomi on the other hand... he knew. Despite not gaining her powers for another four years, her father just knew.

And correct he was, in that gut feeling.

Training Satomi was admittedly terrifying. What's worse, the little girl was completely and utterly clueless as to the level of strength she possesses in comparison to her brothers. And they saw it too.

Although the training she underwent was far more brutal, a part of them envied the expectations their father set for her. Satomi was the chosen one. Satomi was this godforsaken family's last hope. The boys hated their father with every fiber of their being, and maybe that's because they'd do anything for him to recognize their potential... even though he'd never acknowledge it in the end. The fact remains though, Satomi never has and never will be grateful for being on this pedestal her parents shoved her on since birth. It didn't matter to her if she came off as unappreciative for being the one to reclaim the family's honor, she'll proudly flaunt the title as the ungrateful one if that's the case. By all means, somebody take her place if they're willing, or have the power to measure up to her supposed hidden potential.

But they'd never.

Satomi will always hold that against the clan. Never once did they bother to consider the curse they'd placed on her would sign her up for an inevitable downfall. Her future, her innocence, her pride. All aspects to her character she thought had meaning... none of it was ever in her grasp. It all had slipped away years ago.

Satomi picks herself up after every training session. She wipes the blood from her nose with the back of her hand, not minding the mess or even bothering to clean it off. She thanks her father for his time to avoid unnecessary trouble, and stumbles up to her bathroom to patch herself up, passing the glaring faces of her older brothers wasting away in their bedrooms. The classless child spits in the sink and grips her bloody hands around the edges of the porcelain structure, her eyes meeting her reflection to welcome the awful truth she'd repeated to herself a thousand times over:

Alone in Damnation. You are no god, you are not the personification of hope. You are cursed in every sense of the word. And I hate you, so much.

NOW ENTERING: THE YEAR 2005

AUTHORS NOTE
∞ I edited the mood boards in the intro for both Gojo and Furusato if you guys want to check them out! (: I published this impulsively because as soon as I get my ideas, I lose them. Whether that comes to editing or jotting down ideas in my head. It's such a pain 😵‍💫

∞ But I can't wait to unravel Satomi and Satoru's relationship. Satoru is already such a complex character as far as his display of empathy and affection for those close to him goes, his moral compass, mindset as a teenager vs adult, and his choices when it comes to protecting people. As a tragic character herself, Satomi is quite similar to him.

∞ When factoring in their upbringings, neither were allowed to cherish their youth and living as gifted individuals on top of that has undoubtedly created controversial perspectives. It's something they discovered they could relate in. That said, I even wanted to explore Geto's involvement and the impact he had on both her personality and future decisions.

∞ Also, I'm going to add this warning here because I forgot to in the introduction, but there WILL be spoilers so please keep that in mind if you have not yet completed the anime or caught up with the manga!

//lexi//