Archer, the Sorcerer Chapter 10

Chapter 10: The Archer Identity

Chapter 10: The Archer Identity

As the Shinkansen sliced through the snow-dusted countryside, Tsumiki Fushiguro gazed out the window, her breath fogging the glass.

The winter landscape of Kyoto unfolded like a painting—rolling hills blanketed in white, ancient temples peeking through the trees, and the occasional deer meandering near the tracks. It was a scene straight out of a postcard, yet her thoughts were elsewhere.

Sitting beside her, Megumi leaned back with his eyes closed, earbuds in, while Shirou Gojo, their ever-composed companion, flipped through a travel guide with mild interest.

The train’s gentle hum and the rhythmic clatter of the tracks provided a soothing backdrop, but Tsumiki’s mind was a whirlpool of emotions.

It had only been a couple of months since she last saw them, but for some particular reason, it felt like a long time for her.

She was now in high school, living alone in a small apartment that was provided for her by none other than her caretaker and Shirou Gojo’s big brother, Satoru Gojo.

She had new friends, new place of living, and a new city she was living at. Tsumiki clouded her mind with thoughts of what she had been feeling when experiencing all that by herself and not being accompanied by boys living with her in such a tiny duplex.

Looking at the two boys sitting across her made her realize how much she had missed them.

The warmth of the Shinkansen's cabin did little to thaw the bittersweet ache in Tsumiki's chest. Her forehead rested lightly against the windowpane as the winter scene rushed by, the fleeting images outside no match for the stillness inside her heart.

She hadn't said much since they left Tokyo, content to sit in silence and let the movement of the train lull her into a fragile sense of peace.

But every now and then, she'd glance sideways at Megumi—slumped in his seat, hoodie pulled up slightly, one earbud dangling—just to remind herself that this wasn’t a dream. Her little brother was still within reach, alive, present, and annoyingly stoic as ever.

And next to him sat Shirou Gojo—broad-shouldered and calm, like always—his tanned fingers idly flipping a page in a Kyoto travel guide.

He looked nothing like a high schooler, and everything like someone with the world’s weight on his shoulders, though you'd never guess it from his relaxed posture.

Tsumiki sighed quietly through her nose.

“You’re staring,” he said, not looking up from the guide.

Caught, she blinked and sat back properly in her seat. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he said mildly, his eyes now shifting to meet hers. There was no teasing smirk on his lips, just an understanding, patient glance. “You okay?”

Megumi cracked one eye open and turned his head, catching the tail end of the conversation. “She’s probably just thinking about how lame we are now.”

He chuckled. “Speak for yourself.”

Tsumiki shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I’m not thinking that. Just… I guess I’m realizing how weird it is not living with you guys anymore.”

“Mm,” Megumi grunted, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter. “It’s been quieter, that’s for sure.”

“Way too quiet,” she said, resting her chin on her palm. “I miss arguing over what to eat, or Shirou yelling at you for leaving dishes in the sink, Megumi.”

“Objection. That only happened, like… three times.”

“In a week,” They deadpanned.

“You’re exaggerating.”

Tsumiki laughed, the sound light and warm, cutting through the quiet hum of the train. “God, I missed this.”

There was a small pause, during which Megumi looked out the window and He closed the guide, giving her his full attention.

“We missed you too, don’t we, Megumi?” the tanned young man said simply.

Megumi didn’t say anything, but the slight twitch of his brows and the soft sigh that followed said enough. Tsumiki looked at both of them and smiled, touched by the sentiment and their awkward, understated way of showing it.

“Thanks, you guys.” She leaned back in her seat, letting her head fall against the rest. “I was kinda nervous, you know? About the trip. It’s been so long since we’ve done anything like this together.”

“It’s just a trip to Kyoto,” Megumi muttered.

The other male of the group raised a brow. “Coming from the guy who triple-checked our reservations and mapped the shortest route from the station to the hotel?”

“That’s just being practical.”

“You were excited,” Tsumiki teased. “Admit it.”

Megumi looked away, lips twitching. “I wasn’t not excited.”

Shirou Gojo leaned over and ruffled his hair, earning an annoyed grunt and a swat. “Aw, you’re so cute when you pretend not to care.”

“Oi,” Megumi menacingly said and instantly swatted the ruffling hand away from his head.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

They all settled again into their seats, the atmosphere lighter now. Outside, the scenery was beginning to change—the flat urban sprawl giving way to Kyoto’s older, traditional charm.

Sloped roofs and narrow streets came into view, and with it, a sense of nostalgia that crept into Tsumiki’s chest.

She sat up, brushing her fingers against the glass. “We’re almost there…”

He looked over his shoulder and nodded. “Ten more minutes.”

Megumi reached down to grab his backpack, already getting ready to stand. “So, what’s the plan after we check into the inn?”

He smirked. “I figured we could drop off our stuff, grab some food, and take a walk around Gion. They’ve got lights up during winter. Tsumiki’ll love it.”

“I will,” she said immediately, turning to him with bright eyes.

He nodded once, satisfied. “Then we’ll hit the shrines tomorrow. Maybe the Bamboo Grove if we’ve got time.”

Megumi glanced at him. “You’re surprisingly organized.”

He shrugged. “No comment.”

The train gave a soft jolt as it began slowing down, the overhead speaker chiming with the announcement: “Next stop: Kyoto Station.”

Tsumiki’s breath caught slightly. It was really happening.

She was really here, with them, about to make new memories in one of Japan’s most beautiful cities.

She stood and retrieved her overnight bag, glancing back one last time at the seat that had cradled her through her thoughts.

Megumi slung his bag over one shoulder, and Shirou stood tall beside them, the two boys moving in tandem as they followed the flow of passengers toward the platform.

The cold hit them immediately upon stepping out into Kyoto.

The station was bustling with activity, tourists and locals wrapped in scarves and winter coats moving through the crowd with practiced efficiency.

But even with the chaos around them, the air was cleaner, crisper somehow. More still.

Tsumiki took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “It’s colder than I expected.”

The taller of the three immediately took off his scarf and casually wrapped it around her neck. “You forgot this in the bag.”

“Oh—thanks.” Her cheeks warmed, not from the cold.

Megumi rolled his eyes and started walking. “Let’s just get to the inn before he starts giving everyone else his gloves too.”

He just chuckled. “What can I say? I’m a practical person.”

The walk to their traditional inn took about fifteen minutes, winding through narrow alleyways lined with wooden buildings and old stone lanterns.

The inn itself was nestled between a tea shop and a small shrine, its sliding doors and hanging lanterns welcoming them in with soft warmth and the faint scent of tatami mats and incense.

Their rooms were cozy—futons laid out on the floor, sliding doors opening to a tiny garden dusted in snow. Tsumiki looked around and let out a soft gasp. “This is amazing…”

Megumi dropped his bag in the corner and stretched. “It’s nice.”

Shirou Gojo, who had been the one planning for this specific inn with the permission of his brother, only grinned a little. “Wait until you see the bath.”

“Wait,” Tsumiki said, suddenly narrowing her eyes at him. “You booked a place with a private onsen, didn’t you?”

He gave her a nonchalant look. “You only get one Kyoto trip a year. Might as well go all out considering who’s paying. And technically, Satoru was the one who booked the place”

Megumi sighed, already walking toward the bathroom. “He’s just trying to show off.”

“He always is.”

But Tsumiki could only smile. The inn was warm, the tatami floors creaked softly beneath her socks, and for the first time in a long while, she felt at peace.

They unpacked, warmed themselves with green tea in the common room, and soon after ventured back out into the quiet Kyoto evening.

The streets glowed with the soft light of lanterns and illuminated trees, the snow crunching beneath their feet as they walked side by side through Gion’s cobbled roads.

For Tsumiki, Kyoto was no longer just a winter postcard scene from a train window.

It was laughter in the cold, it was teasing jabs between brothers, it was warm tea and quiet inn rooms and the comfort of being together again.

And as He took a photo of her and Megumi under a red torii gate with snow falling gently around them, she thought…

Maybe this was what coming home felt like, even if home wasn’t a place, but the people you shared your life with.

----
The soft crunch of snow underfoot and the distant sound of a temple bell were all Shirou Gojo needed to feel at peace.

He exhaled slowly, watching the white plume of his breath dissolve into the crisp Kyoto air. The snow that had fallen earlier in the morning left the streets slick and glistening, turning the entire city into a serene winter dream.

Old machiya townhouses lined the road they walked, their lattice windows framed by faint icicles, noren curtains fluttering gently in the breeze.

Every few steps, the scent of grilled mochi or simmering oden would tempt passersby from small stalls nestled between traditional storefronts.

He glanced to his right—Megumi walked with his hands in his pockets, scarf pulled tight against his chin, expression unreadable as ever.

On his left, Tsumiki had taken a slight lead, her breath misting as she pointed out a small confectionery shop selling matcha daifuku. She wore a thick beige coat and a white beret, cheeks flushed from the cold.

For a while, He just… watched them.

They looked like siblings on a family trip, like something out of a memory he had never owned, but somehow still felt.

It wasn’t that long ago that the three of them were crammed in their little duplex, living day to day. Now here they were, in Kyoto, like any normal family.

It was almost enough to forget the world they were really in.

"Hey," Tsumiki said, turning around and walking backward so she could face the two of them. "Do you think Satoru actually made that reservation at the hot spring inn, or was he bluffing again?"

He smirked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Knowing him? He probably booked the whole inn… or forgot entirely. There's no in-between."

Megumi rolled his eyes. "If we get there and find out he sent us to some sketchy back-alley bathhouse, I’m blaming you."

"Blame the guy who’s not here," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Seems fair to me."

Tsumiki giggled, and the sound was light, genuine. Something warm stirred in his chest.

They turned down a quieter street, one that led toward one of Kyoto’s lesser-known temples. Fewer tourists, less noise. Just the sound of birds, snowflakes, and the soft wind whispering through the branches of skeletal trees.

He tilted his head back slightly and let his eyes trace the rooftops and the horizon. The skyline of Kyoto was a graceful contradiction—old temples and wooden houses standing firm beside clean-lined train stations and modern buildings, all brushed beneath the white shimmer of winter.

He’d seen a lot of cities in his life—past and present.

He had walked through the ravaged urban landscapes of Holy Grail Wars, gazed down war-torn highways from rooftops while carrying out Alaya’s will, and more recently wandered the alleys of Tokyo as both guardian and brother. But Kyoto… Kyoto felt different.

There was something nostalgic here. Sacred, almost. Or maybe that was just the snow. The way it softened the edges of everything.

"You’re quiet," Megumi said suddenly, interrupting his train of thought.

He blinked and looked at him. "Just taking it in."

"You’re doing that weird thoughtful thing with your mouth," Megumi said blandly. "Like you’re about to say something poetic."

"I was," He said, smirking. "But now I won’t."

"Good."

"Rude," Tsumiki said, nudging Megumi with her elbow.

"He's always rude," He added. "It’s part of his charm. Like a cactus."

Megumi didn’t respond, which, as usual, meant he knew they were right and couldn’t be bothered to argue.

They walked for a while longer in companionable silence until they reached the base of a hill leading up to a small temple, its stairs partially hidden by snow. The stone lanterns that lined the path were frosted over, giving the impression of ghostly sentinels watching the way.

Tsumiki bounded ahead. "Come on! Let’s go up. I want to see the view!"

Megumi followed reluctantly, hands still in his pockets, and The other male with white hair brought up the rear, watching them climb.

The temple grounds were small but elegant—red lacquered beams, wooden ema plaques hanging beneath a sloped roof, and a line of prayer bells that shimmered faintly in the midday sun. From the viewing platform, Kyoto spread out beneath them in quiet majesty—rivers threading through white-roofed buildings, distant shrines poking from mountaintops, the Kiyomizu Temple perched like a watchful guardian in the distance.

He leaned on the railing next to Megumi, whose eyes were also fixed on the horizon.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He asked.

"Yeah," Megumi replied softly. "Kind of makes everything else feel... smaller."

Tsumiki stood a little away from them, clasping her hands together as she made a quick prayer in front of the shrine bell. He watched her with quiet fondness, and for a brief moment, everything felt still.

Whole.

He wanted to lock that moment away somewhere. In the fragmented remnants of his soul, where all the other precious pieces were kept.

After a while, they descended the hill and made their way back into the heart of the city, searching for a place to eat.

The narrow backstreets of Kyoto were lined with warm lights and the smell of yakitori and nabe drifting from cozy restaurants.

Eventually, they ducked into a small izakaya that was half-buried between two larger buildings. Inside, the warmth was immediate and comforting—paper lanterns glowed overhead, and the low buzz of conversation filled the room.

They ordered too much food, as usual.

Hot pot, grilled skewers, fried chicken, and steaming bowls of udon. Tsumiki raved about the tsukemono, and Megumi begrudgingly admitted the broth was “okay.” He drank tea and laughed at their banter, feeling full in more ways than one.

After the meal, they wandered back into the street. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the snowy road. Tsumiki walked a bit ahead, camera in hand, snapping photos of the scenery as the snow began to fall again—just a light dusting this time.

Shirou and Megumi trailed behind, their footsteps quiet.

"She looks happy," He said softly.

"Yeah," Megumi agreed. "I think this trip was good for her."

"For all of us," he replied. "We needed this."

They turned a corner, passing a vending machine and a small souvenir shop, when He suddenly stopped in his tracks.

Megumi took a few more steps before noticing. "What is it?"

He didn’t respond right away.

He was staring up—at a massive advertising billboard mounted on the side of a building. It was an ad for a popular makeup brand, nothing out of the ordinary at first glance.

But the model on the billboard…

Long, flowing blonde hair like strands of moonlight. Pale, flawless skin. Wide, ruby-red eyes that shimmered with a strange mix of innocence and wisdom. A porcelain smile frozen in time.

His heart skipped a beat.

But He knew that face. That expression. Those eyes.

He couldn’t look away.

"Shirou?" Megumi’s voice sounded more concerned now.

"...I’m fine," He said, though his voice was distant.

He didn't know. And maybe it didn’t matter. But the sight of her—unexpected, sudden—had shaken something in him.

He looked up again at the billboard. The model smiled down at him with a peace that Illya had never truly known.

"Coming?" Megumi asked again, his gaze lingering on him.

"Yeah," He said, forcing a small smile. "Let’s go. It’s getting cold."

He started walking again, falling in step with Megumi.

But his thoughts stayed behind, lingering at the base of that billboard, caught in a memory that refused to fade.

Illya.

In a world of second chances, maybe hers had begun too.

---

The night air was cold.

Shirou Gojo’s breath came out in pale clouds as he stood near the edge of the lantern-lit riverwalk, having left Megumi and Tsumiki in a small antique shop a block behind. His eyes drifted upward, but the billboard was gone now, swallowed by the buildings behind him and the thickening mist that crept in from the Kamo River.

The vision of Illya lingered, haunting and dreamlike, but the buzz of his phone in his coat pocket brought him crashing back to reality.

Buzz. Buzz.

The caller ID blinked in blue letters across the screen: Satoru Gojo.

A part of him expected it. The delay at Tokyo Station, the suspiciously vague text. He thumbed the answer button and raised the phone to his ear.

“Yo,” he said casually, though his tone was already laced with suspicion.

There was a slight crackle before Satoru’s voice came through, tinged with tension he rarely allowed others to hear.

“Shirou. Sorry for the last-minute bail earlier. I need to talk to you about something—something important.”

That tone. Even behind his usual flippant energy, there was something serious anchoring it now. A rare thing for Satoru Gojo.

“Go on,” He said, his stance straightening, eyes scanning the nearly empty street.

“I won’t be joining you guys in Kyoto,” Satoru said plainly.

“That’s not surprising at all. Caught up with something?”

There was silence on the other end. Then, quietly:

“Well.. it’s a little hard to explain, but yeah, you could say that.”

His jaw tightened. There was a bad feeling that he’d had even before he started the Kyoto Trip, and at this moment, he felt that every bad feeling he had was coming to fruition.

“Let’s just say that my dear old friend; Brother Malcolm, has returned and is going to start shit up.”

He widened his eyes a little, knowing just who Satoru was talking about.

“Suguru’s back?”

It was a little joke and nudge that Satoru sometimes alluded to. Not mentioning his former best friend by name and coinciding it with someone who slightly resembled Suguru’s ideals and vision.

“I saw his residuals near a temple a week ago,” Satoru continued. “Didn’t want to believe it at first. I hoped it was a curse mimicking him, but…”

“But it was him,” He finished, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Satoru replied. “No doubt about it.”

For a moment, the only sound was the wind drifting through the river reeds and the distant bells of the city. He could hear the unsaid words behind his brother’s voice—regret, caution, and something else. A deeper pain.

“I confronted him,” Satoru went on, “in front of the students.”

His brow furrowed after hearing what Satoru just said. “You let the kids see him?”

“I didn’t have a choice. He walked onto campus like he belonged there,” Satoru muttered. “And he told them everything. Told me everything.”

“And?”

“He’s planning something. He called it the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” Satoru’s voice sharpened now, like the unsheathing of a blade. “On Christmas Eve, he’s going to release a thousand cursed spirits across both Tokyo and Kyoto.”

The words hit like a sledgehammer.

Shirou’s eyes narrowed, heart rate slowing as his instincts kicked in. “He’s declaring war.”

“Yes, and talk about being cocky and super confident to declare when and where…” Satoru replied grimly. “And we have to be ready, even if we’re short on firepower.”

He took a few slow steps toward the bridge that arched across the river. He leaned against the railing, watching the black water glimmer under the moonlight. “That’s why you’re not coming. You’re staying in Tokyo.”

“Someone has to defend the school here,” Satoru said. “Yaga and I are preparing the first years as well. We’ll need all hands on deck.”

“And Kyoto?”

“That’s why I’m calling,” Satoru said. “Shirou, I want you to help defend Kyoto.”

Silence.

He stared at the reflection of the moon dancing on the river’s surface, his expression unreadable. “I’m not even a Jujutsu Sorcerer yet, Satoru. Not even old enough to have a license for anything.”

“You don’t need one,” Satoru said. “You’ve got something just as dangerous. Precision. Control. And your stupid and a Curse Technique that has still not explained thoroughly to me… or even anyone!”

He exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the screen of his phone. “You want me to do this alone?”

“Not entirely. Kyoto’s faculty will be involved. Utahime’s already mobilizing her team. But I want you to take point on the field. You’re not officially registered with the school, so you will join her and help anything that the Kyoto Team needs. Hehehehe~ look at it this way, you can be a wild card or something.”

A bitter laugh escaped Shirou’s lips. “You want me to play the black knight or something?.”

“You are the black knight, Hell! You’re a Hero of Justice for all I care!” Satoru said. “You’ve just been pretending you’re not.”

His grip tightened on the phone.

“I will look into it,” he said after a pause. “But what about Megumi?”

“There’s a reason why I’m only contacting you for this,” Satoru confirmed. “Megumi’s strong, but not ready. You on the other hand, I have a good feeling for you lolz.”

“He’s going to ask questions,” he stated, knowing just what kind of person Megumi was and what reaction he would have.

“Just BS your way out of it like you usually do… unless you want him to come as well, I will let you be the judge of that.”

He took a small breath and already knew what he would decide “Okay. And Tsumiki?”

“She’s got no part in this either duhh,” Satoru said. “She’s just a high school girl. This whole vacation—this time together—it’s important. Let them enjoy the next two days without worry.”

He nodded slowly, even though Satoru couldn’t see it. “Fine. I’ll play along. But if things go bad—”

“They won’t,” Satoru said, his voice softening just a bit. “Not with you there.”

He looked up at the sky again, letting the quiet fold over him.

“You always were good at dumping responsibility on others,” he muttered.

“Hey, you’re my little brother,” Satoru said, and he could hear the faint grin in his voice again.

“Isn’t that what family’s for? But this is optional, Shirou. You don’t have to take part if you want to. You can just be a normal teenager vacationing around the city with your best friend and your soon-to-be girlfrie-- ”

“Just tell me when and where.”

“Hahaahhahahahaa! I was just joking~ Relax! Good to know that you’re on board with this. I’ll forward the intel tonight. Be ready.”

With that, the call ended.

Shirou let the phone drop to his side and leaned on the railing with both hands. The river below moved steadily, unknowingly carrying the weight of impending disaster with it.

He knew this feeling.

The calm before war.

It had followed him in every lifetime, every battlefield he’d ever walked. The tension. The expectation. The quiet smile you gave before parting ways, wondering if you’d ever see them again.

He didn’t want that for Megumi. Or Tsumiki.

As he made his way back to the antique shop, snow beginning to fall again in lazy spirals, he watched the yellow glow of the storefront ahead.

Through the window, he could see Tsumiki smiling at a small ceramic fox statue, while Megumi stood with his arms crossed beside her, patiently waiting.

He paused, watching them from just outside the window.

They were still so young. Still whole.

He’d protect that.

Even if it meant returning to the battlefield alone.

Even if it meant walking back into the storm.

He opened the door, the small bell chiming above his head.

“There you are,” Tsumiki said with a bright smile. “We were wondering where you ran off to.”

“Just needed some air,” He said smoothly, slipping the phone back into his coat. “Everything okay here?”

Megumi eyed him for a moment, as if sensing something unsaid. “We’re good. You?”

“Better now,” He said, forcing a small, easy smile. “Now come on. We’ve still got dinner to find.”

They stepped back into the cold night together.

And somewhere, beyond the falling snow, a thousand curses began to stir.

---

The morning sun filtered through the old paper windows of the ryokan, casting soft amber light across the tatami floor.

Tsumiki stretched lazily, the warmth of the futon still clinging to her limbs. The soft rustle of wind outside carried a chill, but it was calm—quiet in a way that made the world feel gentle.

She turned toward the window and gazed out at the snowy streets of Kyoto. It had been two wonderful days—visiting shrines, walking through the bamboo forest, sipping hot tea with Shirou and Megumi under lantern-lit eaves. It felt like a dream she didn’t want to end.

And yet, something felt… off today.

She wandered out into the shared sitting area, expecting to find Shirou or Megumi chatting, maybe arguing over who took the last taiyaki again.

But the room was empty. Their futons had already been rolled and stacked. The air was still warm, but there was an unfamiliar tension in the quiet.

She peeked into the hallway and noticed the TV was on in the small lounge near the entrance. Kyoto news flashed on the screen—footage of patrol cars, drones, and city workers erecting barriers across some of the central districts.

"Emergency traffic control and partial lockdowns continue across parts of Kyoto due to concerns over public safety. Authorities have issued advisories to avoid unnecessary travel until further notice. Updates will follow."

Tsumiki tilted her head, lips pursed in confusion. “A lockdown?”

She frowned, reaching for her phone. No new messages. No missed calls.

Sliding on a sweater, she stepped outside the ryokan’s covered walkway and wandered around to the front. A staff member bowed politely to her, and she returned it, quietly watching as a pair of tourists asked about the restrictions.

“Something happened near the city center,” one of them whispered, scrolling on their phone. “Some kind of evacuation drill or accident. They’ve closed off entire roads.”

Tsumiki hugged her arms and turned back into the warmth of the building. Her fingers hovered over her phone. She wanted to message Shirou—to ask where he was, to see if maybe they could still explore that temple by the river they had talked about yesterday. But she hesitated.

No answer.

She bit her lip and sat near the window, watching flakes of snow drift gently through the narrow streets.

It’s a shame, she thought quietly.

Just one more day. I wanted to walk with him again.

Not far from her, in a quiet back hallway of the ryokan, Megumi stood with his arms crossed, his body tense. He stood across from Megumi, his jacket half-zipped, black gloves already on his hands.

“You’re leaving now?” Megumi’s voice was low, but hard. “While the whole city’s being shut down?”

They stood in the narrow hallway between the back garden of the ryokan and the guest rooms. The sliding shoji doors muffled the outside wind, and the faint scent of pine incense lingered from the nearby altar room. The morning air was cool, but the tension between them burned hot.

Shirou was already halfway dressed—dark tactical wear underneath his long red winter coat, the collar upturned to shield his neck from the chill.

He was fastening a set of concealed equipment under the sleeves of his coat, his movements sharp, practiced.

Megumi stood in the way, not budging.

“You’re not leaving like this,” Megumi said, voice firm. “Not without telling me where you’re going. Not without explaining why.”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the distant ridgeline, snow barely clinging to the temple roofs beyond.

“Satoru called me last night,” he said after a beat.

“He’s not coming. Something big is happening. It’s not just Kyoto—it’s Tokyo too.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t tell us?”

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” he replied. “And Tsumiki deserves to enjoy this trip, even if only for a little longer.”

“I already told you what you need to know.” His tone was steady, but his eyes flicked to the hallway, ensuring no one else—especially not Tsumiki—was nearby.

“You told me Satoru called. You told me it’s bad. But that’s not enough.” Megumi stepped forward, blocking the exit further. “What’s really going on?”

He exhaled. “The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons,” he said quietly. “Satoru confirmed it. One thousand Cursed Spirit—Christmas Eve, targeting Kyoto and Tokyo. Simultaneously.”

Megumi’s face tightened.

Megumi’s fists clenched at his sides. “Then let me come with you.”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because I said so,” He snapped.

Megumi recoiled slightly at the implication.

“I should be going. You, on the other hand, need to--” He said.

“We,” Megumi said, stepping forward again. “We should be going.”

HIs expression hardened. “No. You’re staying.”

“And what about me?” Megumi said, voice rising slightly. “Am I just supposed to stay here while you go fight whatever this is?”

He looked at him seriously. “Yes.”

The younger boy took a step forward. “That’s not how this works. We’re a team—”

“This isn’t a mission. It’s a war.” Shirou’s voice dropped low. “One thousand cursed spirits, Megumi. It’s the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. If what Satoru told me is right, this will be a long night.”

“No,” Megumi shot back, voice rising. “You’re not my superior, and you don’t get to decide that.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not deciding it for you. I’m deciding it for Tsumiki.”

The silence that followed was razor-sharp. Megumi flinched, just slightly—but He saw it.

“That’s a low blow,” Megumi muttered.

“But it’s the truth,” He said. “She’s here. She doesn’t know what’s going on, and she doesn’t need to. If this goes sideways, someone has to make sure she’s safe.”

Megumi’s fists clenched. “She’s not some helpless child. And neither am I.”

“I know,” He replied. “You’re strong. So, you’re the only one who can guard her if this goes sideways. ”

Megumi shouted. “Stop treating me like a liability and start treating me like a partner!”

“You’re not a liability,” He said, quietly but firmly.

The hallway grew still again.

Megumi swallowed hard. “You think I’m scared to die?”

“No,” He said. “I think you’re scared to live with the consequences of who might die because of you. Just like I was.”

There was a long beat of silence.

“I can’t let you carry that weight,” He said.

Megumi turned his head slightly, looking toward the sliding door. His expression was conflicted—part fury, part understanding. “She’s going to notice you’re gone.”

“She’ll have you,” He replied.

Megumi didn’t speak. His jaw tightened, and his hands were shaking.

“You think I don’t want to stay?” He asked, voice lower now. “You think I don’t want to be here—take more photos with her, drag you to another stupid shrine, pretend I’m normal for one more day?”

Megumi said nothing, but his breath caught.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Megumi’s shoulder. “Stay with her. That’s your mission.”

“You sound like Satoru,” Megumi muttered, bitterly.

He gave a faint, pained smirk. “Don’t curse me.”

Megumi stared at him a moment longer, his body coiled with tension, his heart battling between pride and fear… before finally stepping aside.

“Come back in one piece,” Megumi said. “I don’t want to lie to her if I don’t have to.”

“I will,” He promised. “I always come back.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows at the end of the corridor.

Megumi remained behind, hands clenched, feeling the ache of a decision he didn’t agree with—but understood all too well.

A long silence stretched between them.

Back in the lounge, Tsumiki rested her chin on her palm as she scrolled through her phone, refreshing the news feed again and again. She sighed and looked toward the door.

“I hope they’re not getting snacks without me.”

She smiled faintly, still hoping this winter trip wouldn’t end in silence.

----

*Kyoto Jujutsu High — Northern Watchpoint*

*December 24th – 17:49 PM*

The wind tugged at Utahime’s jacket as she stood at the temple gate, its wooden beams creaking softly in the encroaching dusk. Kyoto Jujutsu High had been sealed down for hours now, locked behind reinforced barriers and high-alert wards. Students and staff moved like shadows across the old stone walkways, their voices low, the weight of anticipation in every step.

Above them, the winter sky stretched like a sheet of bruised steel, stained purple by the setting sun. It would be dark soon.

And then, it would begin.

The wind that swept through the temple grounds was biting, its chill carrying with it the tension that had soaked into every stone and branch.

Kyoto, a city of ancient beauty and deep spiritual roots, had gone eerily quiet.

Emergency alerts continued to flash across the phones of civilians, urging them to remain indoors.

The Night Parade had not yet begun in full force, but the signs were all there—roads barricaded, sudden cursed energy surges throughout the prefecture, and the heaviness in the air, like the pause before a scream.

Utahime stood beneath the shadow of the eastern pagoda of the Kyoto Jujutsu High compound, her eyes narrowed against the wind.

She was dressed in her combat uniform, her ceremonial sash tied tightly at her waist.

Her phone buzzed against her side, but she didn’t bother to check it again. She had already read Satoru’s message twice.

“He’ll be there. Just wait. You’ll know him when you see him.”

That’s what Satoru Gojo had told her over the phone earlier. He hadn’t elaborated much—only that “help” would come, someone that wasn’t from Tokyo but someone he trusted to protect Kyoto.

Help. She scoffed at the word. They were past the point of hoping for simple assistance.

They were staring down a city-wide attack coordinated by none other than Suguru Geto, a traitor, and a monster with enough cursed spirits to raze Kyoto to the ground.

And still… she waited.

Her gaze flicked toward the mountain trails that led from the south road.

The rest of her team had already spread out—she had ordered the younger students to take shelter, and a handful of semi-grade and grade 1 sorcerers were stationed at key chokepoints throughout the city.

She had to trust them to hold the line. For now, her job was to watch, wait, and meet the one Satoru had spoken of.

Utahime had no idea what kind of person to expect. Satoru’s standards for “trustworthy” were… unconventional, to say the least. The way he’d spoken—part teasing, part sincere—gave her nothing to go on.

*“He’s not like me,” he had said. “He’s quieter. Smarter. Scarier, maybe.”*

A crunch echoed from the forested trail.

She had just finished giving orders to her last group of second-years when the crunch of gravel caught her attention. A single figure approached along the mountain path.

Her body moved on instinct, hands flashing through signs, cursed energy tightening across her skin like wire.

She stared at the figure emerging from the edge of the dark tree line. He was alone, and his pace was unhurried—confident, calm.

He wore black insidne and red as the outer , the kind of sleek tactical clothing underneath she recognized, but what caught her eye first was the mop of stark white hair and the sharp, observant eyes beneath it.

He looked young—too young. As young as the first years.

But something about his presence felt wrong for that appearance: too composed, too still. He didn’t move like a student.

He moved like someone who had seen too many battles and had come out the other side colder for it.

He stopped a few feet from her, expression unreadable.

The white hair caught her eye first—Satoru’s color—but everything else about him was different.

More grounded. More still.

“Utahime Iori?” he asked, stopping just a few feet in front of her. His tone was polite, but brisk—no wasted syllables. His amber eyes, quiet but perceptive, met hers directly.

“And you are?” she asked, guarded but curious. Her cursed energy was still drawn taut, but she didn’t release it—just in case.

“Shirou Gojo,” he answered.

Her brow twitched. “Gojo? You’re… Shirou Gojo? His little brother who’s still in middle school…”

He gave a slight nod. “Sorry I’m late. Travel from the outer district was slower than expected.”

She looked him over again, noting how calm he appeared—not like someone who had just been dragged into a city under siege.

But then again… if he was anything like the man who sent him, perhaps nothing ever fazed him.

“Come with me,” she said, turning on her heel. “We’re gathering the Kyoto team. I’ll brief you on the way.”

They walked through the inner courtyard of the school, past stone lanterns lit with flickering blue flame and rows of temple buildings converted into training halls. The air smelled faintly of incense and snow.

“Here’s what we know so far,” Utahime began.

“Suguru Geto’s forces are planning to attack both Kyoto and Tokyo Jujutsu High simultaneously. December 24th, sometime between sunset and midnight. It’s being called the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.”

Shirou didn’t react, but she could tell from his posture that he was listening carefully.

“His goal is to release over a thousand cursed spirits into the major cities. That many curses released at once will trigger a mass panic—and if he breaches either school’s protective wards, we’ll lose any chance of containing it.”

He frowned slightly. “How’s Tokyo holding up?”

“We’ve received no attack yet, but the situation’s tense. Satoru’s holding the fort on that side.” She paused, glancing at him. “He told me to involve only one and that's you, correct?”

“I agree,” He said without hesitation. “Others stay out of this.”

“Good. Fallback shelter is below Mount Kurama. Worst-case scenario, they’re our evacuation relay.”

She motioned for him to follow her up a set of wooden stairs, heading toward the old dojo at the center of the compound.

From within, the sounds of movement echoed—gear shifting, voices murmuring, wards being activated. It was the calm before the storm, and everyone knew it.

Inside, the Kyoto team had assembled.

Utahime’s upperclassmen stood in formation:

Kasumi Miwa stood at attention with her sword already strapped to her side, her blue hair tied back tightly.

Noritoshi Kamo sat against the wall, calmly stringing his bow and checking his talismans.

Aoi Todo—massive, broad-shouldered, and as loud as always—was pacing near the back of the room with a wild glint in his eye.

Nearby, Maki Zenin leaned against the far wall, tightening the wrappings on her cursed tools.

Utahime cleared her throat. “Everyone, listen up.”

The room quieted.

“This is Shirou Gojo. He’s been sent by Satoru as reinforcement. He’ll be working with us tonight.”

Aoi Todo looked up, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “Gojo? As in—Gojo Gojo?”

“Pretty much,” he answered calmly. “But I don’t do Infinity tricks.”

That earned a chuckle from Miwa, though most of the others remained focused. Todo, however, stepped forward with an evaluating gleam in his eye.

“What kind of--"

Utahime immediately shot him a glare. “Not now!!”

She then sighed. “Save the introductions. We don’t have time.”

She turned to Shirou. “You’re being stationed with the central defense squad. That includes me, Kamo, and Maki. Our job is to hold the inner ward. If Geto’s forces breach our perimeter, they’ll come here first.”

“Understood. I’m used to working alone,” he replied, “but I can adapt.”

Their conversation was cut short as a horn echoed across the school grounds. Not loud—but deep, ancient, and resonant.

It came from the barrier monks on the western wall.

The warning signal.

One long note.

One signal meant movement detected.

Utahime’s spine stiffened. “Everyone to positions.”

The room became a flurry of controlled motion. Miwa, Maki, and Todo grabbed their weapons and left through the northern hall.

But he paused, just briefly, and glanced out the window. Down the hill, he could see the distant roads of Kyoto, lit by streetlamps and headlights.

He imagined Tsumiki and Megumi tucked away safely with the other civilians, unaware of what loomed just beyond the city’s edge.

He closed his eyes for just a second.

'I won’t let anything happen to them.'

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Then he turned, and followed the others into the descending night.