𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌

KINZOKU MIKAZUKI WAS STILL COVERED IN BLOOD BY THE TIME SHE MADE IT BACK TO THE ESTATE. The sorceress didn't bother to greet the man at the entrance, hands balled into fists as she marched inside of the house. She could feel the power spiralling inside of her, the embers of an uncontainable fire lighting her path. There was anger in that fire, a fury that burned nearly as bright as the specs of gold that floated around her.

Mikazuki's hair was floating, the tips of her greying strands elevated into the air and surrounded by strings of pure gold. She was glowing, the power around her swirling into a chaotic storm, the gold in her eyes just as restless as the glittering sparks that permeated the air. The sorceress crossed the length of the hallway with big strides, the Cursed Energy in her blood fuelling each step like gasoline to a fire.

The servants quickly stepped out of the way; the footprints Mikazuki left behind glowing with golden light as the fire burned the wooden planks. Her power was overbearing, engulfing everything in sight into pure flames of gold. The sorceress had never been skilled at summoning the golden flames that had made her grandmother a force to be reckoned with, yet they now breathed into reality with ease, as if she'd called them straight from the fiery pits of hell. Mikazuki called the fire to her, the smell of cinders and embers rising in the air as her clothes smoked.

I will kill him. That's all the Kinzoku heiress could think, all her mind could come up with as she strode through the house, her aura strong enough to burn anything in sight. The servants parted around her like the wilding waves of a crashing sea, the murderous aura around their mistress being the only warning they needed. It wasn't anything new, especially when most of the people present had been working around the golden family long enough to recognize the righteous Kinzoku anger that had turned their clan into one of the unwavering pillars of Jujutsu. It was unlike anything else, so cruel and twisted and furious.

Mikazuki could feel it unfolding inside of her, that ravenous ire that continued to fuel the golden flames of her fire. Her fire burnt hot – not as hot as Akari's with her Hellfire –, but hot enough to melt the floor with each step she took, the mark of her shoes singed onto the polished wood. The sorceress didn't think twice, she didn't pause when she reached the living-room, not even sparing a single glance towards the elders who were gathered around the round oak table. She didn't even turn to acknowledge her grandmother, Himari's face a mess of bandages carefully positioned to hide her shame.

The Kinzoku sorceress could still remember plucking her eye out, pulling the nerves from the socket before flicking it away like a discarded piece of trash. None of it mattered, not when her hands were still stained with the blood of her dear sister, not when she could still see Niko's bent leg, her bones shattered beyond repair. I will kill him. She repeated once again, hoping the words would continue to fuel the fire and keep her going. I will kill him. That's all she could think, her anger melting into her blood and steaming in the air.

Mikazuki climbed the steps of the small wooden dais, pushing the sliding door aside as she stood in front of Asahi's desk. Her breath caught in her throat, the gold around her turning to sharp needles and launching off into the air. The razor-sharp golden pieces cut through the air like a crack of lightning, heading directly towards Asahi. The man didn't look up, he didn't even react. Instead, his Eternity emerged, swallowing up the needles as they came apart against his shield, Mikazuki's power evaporating into nothingness while she watched.

The sorceress wanted to scream. She wanted to summon all of her gold and suffocate him with it. She wanted to stride over, take him by the hair and smash his head against the flat mahogany of his desk. Instead, she stood, chest rising with each breath as she let herself fall. Mikazuki's hands fell at her sides, hands still closed into fists while her lips remained flat.

It was a full five minutes until Kinzoku Asahi finally deigned to acknowledge his daughter. The man sighed, putting aside his paperwork and setting his reading glasses on the table. Asahi looked up, his eyes almost as sharp as the needles Mikazuki had just tried to kill him with. The sorceress pulled her lips into a tight line, all of her anger vanishing when she met her father's gaze. Asahi hadn't said anything – he hadn't said a single word since she barged into his office, intent on killing him.

Here's the thing, though. He didn't need to. Asahi's eyes were as clear as any words capable of coming out of his mouth and, although his silence was puzzling, Mikazuki knew better than to threaten him again. They were at a standstill, Asahi's utter dismissal of him nearly as dangerous as whatever glowed in his sunset-coloured eyes. It was easy to forget the kind of man he was, the kind of things he was capable of.

Most days, Asahi sat behind a desk, managing Magistrate business and running his household, yet his senses remained as sharp as they had been when he was still in the battlefield. His body might be aging, but he was still very much the same beast he'd always been. Mikazuki could see it in his eyes, read the carnage he could so easily cause, the massacres he'd so gracefully committed. He was a murderer – a killer, a trueborn menace who bore the skin of a man. Just like her. They were alike, in that sense. Asahi was born a killer, and then he ensured she would become one.