The Puppet Walks [Jujutsu Kaisen]

[II] The Jester's Deal

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プロデューサーが交響曲を作ります。

"She was his doll, and dolls are made to be broken."

—Wordsmith_fanatic_neha
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He congratulated the boy who looked beyond in puzzlement. My mind wasn't bemused with what was happening in front of me; my sullen figure was perforated with suppressed ire. I was snapped back when my father started to talk again.

"Gojo, take him to the dorms." His pitch was different towards others than it was to me. I knew every meaning behind his words. It was disappointing, each syllable towards them was twined with an affable tone. Though, it was a complete contrast to the aloof gaze and brusque voice that was jarred with disappointment every time he saw me. I was nothing but an overt nuisance. A trivial fly occupying the small space he held near him; that was all I was and will ever be.

"Not so fast Mr. Headmaster." Gojo had gained our easy attention as he held out his hand like a stop sign, only further solidifying my theory that he was an over eccentric weirdo. My father's eyes narrowed behind his thick glasses, seemingly to know what Gojo was hankering. He sighed with a tone of avidity; not wanting to address the undisclosed subject and appeared rather keen on keeping it that way. I could feel my father watch me out of the corner of his eyes. The lingering presence of decision weighing down on his consciousness as he decided my fate anew. I stayed stationary, my peering gaze sticking to the floor like glue.

It must've been an important decision because the man hadn't moved for the past two minutes until he arbitrarily spoke for the first time since. "Are you going to keep pestering me about this matter until I say yes?" Gojo bolstered a heavy smirk that stretched for miles beyond his face, not being able to contain it. "I guess you could say I'm a persistent bastard who believes in her unique abilities-"

"She has none."

Behind the guttural shrill of his voice and the intolerant look in his eyes, I could tell that the subject was one he hated; me. In spite of the vicious tone and the heinous connotation of his words, I sat there with a vacant riposte. My eyes slightly narrowing before retracting as I encompassed what he had said. No movement or retort occurred, having it not be the first time he's said something as degrading as this.

"I've told you time and time again, Gojo Satoru, she doesn't carry any techniques." My eyes were glazed over with memoirs occupying the space in my mind as my teeth chewed away at the epidermis of my lip, the layers ripped away. It all just brought me back to the same spot over and over again. It was like running in a straight line on a path that never ended. I was following this road blindly all for the sake of self-security. Was that so wrong of me? Even if I didn't have a sense of wanting to find direction I was still alive, but I knew I wasn't living. I'm simply just the hollow husk of a girl that that's been abandoned in her own mind. Locked away never to be seen again, in fear that they'd have to face the monster they've been harboring all this time. That's what he would call me; a monster.

Gojo was silent. Despite wearing a blindfold, I could tell he was gazing at me to see how I would react, only to find that I hadn't moved an inch. He huffed, leaned back and then directed his focus to my father. "How's about this—you let her enroll into Jujutsu Tech for 3 months. If she doesn't show any progression I'll let you decide what to do with her after, but if she does show improvement, she gets to continue learning." My father tapped his chin impatiently as he debated with himself over the issue. Another grueling minute passed before the rumbling of a defeated "Fine." emerged passed his throat. He wasn't happy, not in the slightest. His features were furrowed, his body sat upright, and his voice was demoralizing.

"Go."

The heavy doors slammed shut behind us. For the first time in what felt like years I could feel the wind bristle its feathering waves across my face. I wouldn't say it was freeing, but it was definitely a change of scenery compared to the shambled room I've been holed up in.

From our first steps out of my father's 'office', not that it could really be called one, Gojo had sniggered an exuberant laugh of hearty success. "Seems I was finally able to get you out of the clutches of that beast!" Even though he says it with such relief, I, on the other hand, knew that it simply wasn't true. My father is smart, he wouldn't just let me go on my own without him monitoring me, whether it be by his cursed dolls or by him hiring some brain-dead lackey to do his work for him.

I wasn't ever truly safe, even without his mighty hold.

They both turned to me, but I remained silent with a lackluster manner. "Oh c'mon now, don't be like that-" Gojo swung his arm around me affectionately, but I shuddered with aversion at his touch. I could feel my skin crawl as if spiders were nipping at my flesh with their pointed legs, my spine ached from convulsing against him. In protest to his closeness, my shoulders rose to my ears as my head ducked between them to show my intolerance. Regardless of how I dissented from his hold, he held me still, not in a pushy or overbearing way, but a reassuring one.

Except, I never once felt reassured.