"???" Aimi's brow furrowed, confusion momentarily overriding her anger. "O...kay?"
"We know it may sound shocking, because you are unable to see them, the world we fought in daily, with, at least your ability does not allow you to." Shikumi looked up, "But, Aimi, your father, and I… we're sorcerers."
Aimi stared at them. It sounded ridiculous, like something out of a fictional story.
"We've fought against those creatures for as long as we can remember, and when we had you...We decided to keep you a secret from the Jujutsu Sorcerer Association." Her mother continued, "It wasn't what we planned originally, but we soon realised after you were born, there was something strange about your presence."
"What strange?"
"You're not like us, or like anyone, or like...anything. You do not possess any cursed energy, not even a little, which is strange because every living thing exerts some. Some just can't manipulate them, is all."
"What's cursed energy?"
"Cursed energy is just... negative emotions. Fear, anger, sadness — everyone feels them, right?" Shikumi explained patiently.
Aimi nodded slowly.
"Those emotions naturally leak out of people without them realising it. That leaking is cursed energy. It's invisible, but it's always there, like steam coming off boiling water."
Fukazu continued, "and sorcerers are trained soldiers to can see and manipulate those sources of energy to weaponise them, to deal with curses. Those monsters we mentioned."
"And I don't have any of that."
"Yes. After some time, we concluded your soul must be what sorcerers refer to as 'pure', because it's not that you don't possess any cursed energy, it's that you are immune to cursed energy. Any cursed spirits or cursed-infused attacks that come into contact with you will be nullified...as a result, you can't see curse spirits nor sense them in any way either."
"There are people who were born not having enough curse energy to cultivate, but being able to nullify curses..." Shikumi shook her head. "Your soul is incredibly rare, mentioned only a few times in history. Your existence itself… is an anomaly."
"We don't know why that's the case either, because none of us should have any genetic heritage that carries that special ability that could pass on to you either." Her mother shook her head, "supposedly...but we can't say for sure because both your father and I are orphans."
That tugged on Aimi's heartstrings.
"So we know what it's like to grow up with family love; we truly did not want to put you through it, but we had to make a choice."
"What does that even mean?" Aimi squinted her eyes and let out an overwhelmed exhale.
Fukazu lowered his gaze, "Everyone would have hunted you if they knew about you. Sorcerers, curses, higher-ups—they'd make you a target. Your existence would have shaken the world of sorcery. We had to protect you, Mi-chan."
"By leaving me alone all this time?"
"We didn't want to, but we couldn't bring you with us, it was too risky," her father clicked his tongue. "We thought it was safer for you to live an ordinary life away from this world…since you were too young, and unlike him, you couldn't have protected yourself if we brought you with us and caught unwanted attention."
"Unlike who?"
"The strongest jujutsu sorcerer in history… Gojo Satoru." Her father replied. "His existence was like you, an anomaly that shook the world of sorcery. But different from you, Gojo Satoru had the Gojo clan to protect him, and he was unmistakably strong at a young age. His skills allowed for self-defence, but Mi-chan… you could still die from physical attacks."
Aimi froze, processing the name. "Gojo Satoru." So that was who he was. Her mind spiralled.
Shikumi sighed, "And the reason that we left Japan was because...we were ordered to fulfil our sorcerer role in the United States to strengthen Japan's international relations."
Her father approached. "Ever since Gojo Satoru was born, the higher-ups got negligent and greedy, thinking that he alone could protect Japan and commanded many strong sorcerers to leave the country to protect the nations we were in, acting as a trademark for alliances. We did what he had to, and so we left the country."
"Trust me that we did not want this life for you, Mi-chan. But we couldn't ignore our duty."
"Duty..." She covered her defeated expression. "I would have been happier if I hadn't been born, you know? If you two have so much responsibility ... you shouldn't have given birth to me." She whispered.
"Please don't say that, Mi-chan." Shikumi teared up again. "We're sorry...we are truly sorry."
"None of this feels justified." She shook her head, "I failed to comprehend how leaving a 12-year-old kid alone would be safer."
"There are just things you won't understand unless you are in our position..." Her father's shoulders sagged. "You're right to be angry. You have every right to hate us. But we're here now not to ask for forgiveness, but we just think it's time you know of the truth."
"Sure," she mocked.
Her mother hesitantly slid a document across the table. "And we would like to give you a choice..."
A registration form for the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Aimi's eyebrow raised as she skimmed the paper.
Fukazu: "You can become a sorcerer, or you can continue living an ordinary life; it is a choice and it is your choice. We do not mind your decision either way; we want to respect your decision."
"We just believe it is time, and you should be able to choose your life path now that you are old and strong enough."
Her parents can tell by looking at the muscular frame beneath her clothes. Aimi has put years into training and is no doubt approaching immense strength.
"The audacity," She smiled helplessly. "The two of you left me for almost a decade and now returned with this bullcrap." a dry laugh escaped her lips.
Silence enveloped the space for what felt like a century. None of them speaks.
Aimi stood up.
"Please go back to wherever you came from."
"Mi-chan-?"
"No, leave me alone. I need time."
She turned away and walked out of the dining room.
"We- Aimi-"
"Go home. your home."
------
Aimi marched up the stairs, her steps heavy. Her mind was a whirlpool of emotions. She cracked open her bedroom door, intent on finding a sliver of peace, only to stop dead in her tracks.
Gojo Satoru sat casually on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, leaning back on his hands like he owned the place.
"Yo," his trademark grin greeted her. "Rough night?