Kiyohara no Nagiko has always known more than any thought that she did. Being born with Cursed Eyes that allow her to see the Truth of things, many took measures to keep her from learning their secrets.
She lived a lonely childhood because of this, another reason why she became so attached to Murasaki so easily. However, caution has a way of waning over time. It is impossible to keep a muscle tensed for very long, and people soon forgot their paranoia and instead left her with only wariness.
Foolish of them, really.
Everyone who knew anything about her knew that she was aware of more than she should be, but none have ever truly understood the extent of that.
As she grew older, the isolation she faced young eventually became a matter of choice over circumstance. It amuses her in hindsight; at first she was kept away by those who wished she would not learn their secrets, and then she came to keep herself away because she already knew too much.
It grows tiring after a while. To know so much about so many whom she values not a fraction. It becomes... intimate to know a person so deeply, and feeling that intimacy for so many whom she despised for their pathetic natures rapidly got on her nerves.
Regardless, the important part is that there is very little in the way of intrigues that Nagiko was not aware of. That is part of why she felt so eager to discover the identity of the apparent prophet who showed to have eyes on her hopeful-betrothed; the mystery was enticing. It has not been long yet her little success on that front is a source of annoyance, though waylaid slightly by the discovery of a deeply infiltrated Shinobi, which is of course interesting.
Naturally, the other part of her eagerness was simply that Narauko would already have been a strong match without her having grown so fond of him as she had, so it would not do for him to be in undue danger.
It truly continues to surprise her when she thinks on it; just how quickly she found herself growing fond of him.
However, the greater importance of this knowledge is naturally with regards to herself. With her Eyes, Nagiko has never not been aware of how others have viewed her. It has long been a source of ego for her, she knows this and admits it freely. For it is one matter to believe oneself greater than others and it is another matter entirely to know that oneself is viewed above all others.
As a Sorcerer, she has always had few peers. As a Sorcerer who is also a woman, her only peer has been the formerly Koshikibu no Naishi, no Nanami no Shiki—having been elevated back into nobility recently as a cadet branch of the new Gojo line under Gojo no Isanko, formerly Sugawara no Gojo.
In that comparison, Nagiko has known Shiki to be the more feared Sorcerer of them, but Nagiko also knows that she herself is considered the more talented Sorcerer. Shiki's Technique is simply terrifying enough to close the distance regardless.
Then there is the matter of greater vanity. To put the point simply, Nagiko is beautiful. Among Sorcerers she has no peer and among all women of the realm the only women of age with her that have been viewed as equals in attraction are those three chosen consorts of the Emperor.
Shiki could have also been in contention as an equal were it not for how her Cursed Eyes unnerve, unlike Nagiko's which more often enthral. Naturally, there have also been others by dint of personal taste, but as a whole, Nagiko is among the most beautiful in the realm. She is also among the strongest. She is viewed with admiration and awe and lust and envy.
It is enough to make anyone prideful, and Nagiko has never denied her pride. However, she feels it significant to note that not once in her life has Nagiko ever made a boast from her own mind. Every claim, every assurance to her being better that she has made and known to be true has each been an echo of what she has seen hidden within the minds off all who have surrounded her.
She has never needed to affirm to herself the certainty of her ego, for everywhere she has gone she has always seen clearly the Truth of it, and her breast has grown ever so fiery with ever greater pride because of it.
Pride is a Sorcerer's strength. Murasaki taught her that.
Murasaki also told her that her pride was hollow and will hold her back if she cannot learn to see Truth from her own eyes.
She never quite understood those words. What do her Eyes see but Truth?
She did not understand then, but she thinks that she might understand now.
Ruined.
Deformed.
Grotesque.
Absently, one of her hands rises from her lap to trail up her other arm under her sleeve. The soft pads of her fore and middle finger trail over the skin of her forearm, tracing the lines of scarring and how they contrast against what skin remains unblemished. Her latter two fingers contrast the sensation, making her entire arm feel vile as the scarred flesh of her digits scrapes like sand.
Nagiko feels a now familiar sting in her eyes and hurries to blink it away, unwilling to bear the humiliation of shedding any more tears on the subject; for to cry over this matter is not a showing of depth of character, but a showing of failed vanity.
Her hand leaves her arm and rises higher to her face, mapping her once familiar features through touch instead of sight. The scarring is most fierce on one side, marking a line from her left jaw up over her eye and stopping just short enough to spare her hair. The other scar marring her face begins at the middle of her right jaw and spikes diagonally across her nose to join the first.
Nagiko is no apprentice in the art of Reverse Cursed Technique. Likely it is only Narauko and Sukuna who has greater skill than her in the art. Yet, in a battle against such a fierce Cursed Spirit while an altogether greater pair of monsters fought above Nagiko had little chance to focus and was forced to rush matters.
If I was better...
And now she is forever marred. Her perfect form ruined by burn scars that cover her from toe to head.
They say that it is those who stand the highest that have the farthest to fall and Nagiko knows the truth of that now. She has seen that Truth with her own Eyes.
She has seen how they look at her now. How eyes once filled with awe and lust and envy have turned to poison. She has seen what they think of her now, the disgust at her ruined form. The mocking of her lessers glad to see her fall and pity worst of all.
She is not someone to be pitied! She is Kiyohara no Nagiko! One of the greatest Sorcerers to ever live!
Her hand on her face moves to brush dust from her eyes as a sniffle brings breath through her nose.
...She hates it. The way they look at her now.
Pride is a Sorcerer's strength, and while Nagiko's pride in her abilities as a Sorcerer has not waned...
She is more than just a Sorcerer; she is a woman also and a woman has her pride as well.
It is because of that that Nagiko has come to understand Murasaki's words better. As bitter emotions filled her chest, she had no choice but to look inside of herself and seek the truth of it all and in doing so she has found the answer.
Her sense of self esteem has been entirely derived from how she has been perceived.
How her Eyes see others to view her is how she has always accepted herself to be. She has never truly judged herself before, only accepted the judgements of others as true; judgement that now rule her as a broken treasure ruined by the foulness of battle. This realisation has then led her to ask herself another question.
How much of her pride is truly borne of her own ego?
It is a question to which she has yet to find an answer to, which is in itself an unnerving thing to know.
Her state of mind has not been helped by how many times in recent days she has thought to seek out her father for advice only to recall how she will not see him again until she herself should perish.
It is a wonder, how quickly the world can be turned on its head.
She knows in some part of her that she is being perhaps overly dramatic, but telling herself that does little and less to ease her mind to the knowledge that her body has become a thing of scorn and pity for all time.
The gentle sound of knuckle on wood pulls Nagiko from her dour thoughts and she is quick to compose herself before bidding entry.
With her troubles hidden behind a practiced mien, she now sits the Matriarch of House Kiyohara, a burden she had not been meant to hold for many years to come, and it is in that position that Nagiko watches as a trio of men enter her office at her permission and immediately force her to understand that she does not know them.
That is intriguing enough for them to be worth her attention, for she had not thought there to be any men of significance that she did not at least know of, yet these three remain entirely unfamiliar.
Her intrigue however is cut short as the men lay eyes on her and one of them flinches.
All three are put off by your scars, only the youngest failed to hide reaction due to social inexperience. All are old enough to be experienced, social inexperience and strong bodies can only imply a greater focus on training. Two are brothers and both find your form unappealing, the remainder feels pity and injustice instead.
It is an effort to keep her expressions placid as her Eyes continue to feed her the Truth of the men now opposite her. If there is any intelligence to her Eyes, Nagiko now knows it to be a Cursed one, for there remains no hesitance or minced words to describe her own shame.
At least she remains with all limbs attached...
It is a small comfort.
There would have been more honour in death than this.
Nagiko is glad for her guests to begin speaking then, for she has no desire to know if that thought came from her mind or her Eyes.
"Kiyohara-sama, it is an honour to be granted audience." The three of them bow at the end of the lead man's words, though the youngest remains stiff.
It is curious, and Nagiko greedily allows her curiosity to the fore of her mind such that it might overwhelm other, less desired thoughts.
It is curious because the three of them bow low, despite it being clear to anyone with eyes that they hold themselves with both grace and import. After all, her Clan is not so high or influential to make this level of supplicance necessary. That they would offer it at all is... interesting.
Supplicance is genuine on all counts. Views you as a superior and himself a lesser. Restrainedly desperate to be of use. Feels servile to your name and believes you will live up to that expectation. Has been anticipating this day for much of his life.
Curious indeed, for she still has no clue who he is; though she has a growing suspicion in conjuration with the Truths her Eyes continue to spill forth into her mind.
Looking again at the three men opposite her, Nagiko takes in their appearances with greater detail than her initial, by now habitual dismissal of them.
The two men behind the first bare similarities enough to assume familial relations, as her Eyes have already done, further putting them as brothers separated by a mere three years, both well enough over the age of manhood. Both are large men—large in the way that does not define muscles clearly yet still implies a great strength to them, though one brother is quite a sight shorter than the other and apparently resents that fact.
Neither has particularly appealing faces to her, and Nagiko's Eyes further reveal them to be yet another pair of unimpressive men with little in the way of insightful thoughts.
Followers, not individualists. Her Eyes tell her that their personalities have been formed by their upbringing which again tells her that they are from a family that exists in servitude to another; though she does not yet know what family that is. She finds it slightly contradictory that her Eyes would tell her both that they feel servile to her and that they do not serve her, but she is sure that she is simply missing some key piece of information to pull the picture together.
All three are Sorcerers, but the brothers only seem Grade Two and the other Grade One, so Nagiko is not impressed on that front.
The man who leads is their opposite in many ways. His figure is slim but not frail, his features graceful without being feminine and he holds himself well with nobility despite feeling so subservient.
Amused by the myriad curiosities and eager to distract herself, the new Kiyohara Head returns a light tilt of her head to the man—a gesture made in small measure of test to see how he would respond to such a shallow level of honouring—and gives the appropriate greeting in turn.
None take offence to the shallow greeting.
"You are welcome indeed," Nagiko begins, her eyes flitting over the three of them again before falling back to the man in the lead, "Though I would feel better to know who exactly it is that I am welcoming."
"Of course," the apparent speaker of them replies with a genuinely happy smile before one more bowing, this time going even further and holding his hands in opposite sleeves over his head as he does so. "This humble one is known as Kōfū no Fēng and with me are Genzaburō and Sumirehiko no Ōmaeda, I am sure that you have a great many questions, Kiyohara-sama, and by your leave I shall give explanation that should answer many of them."
Nagiko waves a hand for him to get on with it and Kōfū does so with relish and a clearing of the throat made more out of anticipation than any real need.
"As the new Head of House Kiyohara, I am sure you are more fully aware of the duties of your line and of the importance we of the Living Division hold secrecy in. Your father before you held the same Binding Vows that you now hold, and it is because of that and the Eyes that you were born with that all of our order were forbidden from entering your sight. That is why you do not recognise us."
Kōfū flashes a grin that would perhaps be charming if she held him in greater esteem.
"As to who we are, with your father's unfortunate demise, I am now the new Head of the living branch of the Fēng Clan while these two are both useful sons of the living branch of the Ōmaeda Clan. Both of our Clans' main lines reside within Yomi in greater service to Izanami-sama by serving more directly as cadet branches of the Shihōin Clan—one of Five Great Noble Houses of Yomi. Your House, the Kiyohara line, is a House of the Shihōin Clan. In that capacity, you now rule over the living branches of both of our Clans and I am to serve as your Vice-Captain, should you deem me worthy. Eventually, when you should perish, myself and all living members of my Clan and of Clan Ōmaeda of our generation will commit Ritual suicide and continue to serve as your retinue within Yomi."
Kōfū pauses for a moment after finishing the short of the explanation before adding one more line in a softer tone, as if only now remembering himself after being lost to excitement.
"Your father wished you to finish your education before learning of the responsibilities of your line and the importance of your future."
Nagiko almost wants to laugh.
She always knew that her Clan had some duty of import that her father had not wished to share with her, and Nagiko had made an effort to avoid overly prying on the matter out of filial respect for her father.
When she then claimed his seat and was inducted as a Captain to this Division, Bound by oaths of secrecy, she did have some thoughts, naturally.
One part of her felt... buoyed with honour that it is Izanami-sama that would have her as a servant of high esteem. Another part of her wondered at how she was supposed to fulfil the duties that had been explained to her.
Another part of her wondered at the extent of those duties, as her apparent peers were little and less forthcoming, limiting themselves mostly to saying that she will know soon. Evidently having been referring to this present meeting.
Regarding her duties, that of catering for those Souls who do not easily leave the Realm of the Living behind yet do not become Cursed Spirits—though apparently that much is only a matter of expediency, as Souls that are not Cursed will become so should they spend too much time in this Realm without a body to inhabit—Nagiko wandered at how she was supposed to do so over the entire expanse of land she is supposed to govern with only the limited manpower of her Kiyohara Clan.
Now the answer to that is clear.
She is impressed that her father managed to keep so much hidden from her, though she is coming to understand that this Division she is now a part of is simply quite masterful at remaining unknown. A part of her is suspicious that it is Izanami-sama's influence that keeps them hidden, but not even she would dare try to turn her Eyes to discerning the will of a God.
All of it is very interesting, and Nagiko knows that in any other time she would have been joyous to learn of all of this. Knowing so much has a way of making one adore learning of anything entirely new.
However, this is not any other time.
So instead of feeling eager or intrigued to learn more or ask questions or get to work on a task that might actually bring her some measure of satisfaction...
Nagiko just finds herself struggling to care at all.
///
???
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A girl plods through mountain pass, each step emphasised, legs stiff and lifted to near perpendicular before she falls forward onto it. Her arms swing back and forth by her side in an arc as wide as her shoulders allow as she balances her way down a fallen log, humming a tune that tries to mimic the birds and falls short.
By her side and a step behind, the girl's smaller sister walks apace on the grass below, her bare feet brushing through dirt as easily as the girl's own bare feet crack mossy bark underfoot.
At the end of the fallen log, the girl drops down with a silent grunt and lands in a crouch so low she almost sits on her heels, arms outstretched wide. Then she simply straightens up and continues walking without flourish, now following after her sister who gained two steps on her in the process.
Now that she is the one walking behind, the girl can't help but notice how her sister now begins to twitch her head back every few steps. The girl doesn't like it. She knows that her sister only does so because she is cowardly; constantly checking that she is still walking behind and hasn't abandoned her.
She doesn't like that her sister is so cowardly. She doesn't really understand why she doesn't like it. She thinks it's because her sister being afraid implies that there is something wrong going on, which would be stupid, because everything is just normal, so why should she be afraid of it?
Is it normal to be afraid? She doesn't think so. Fear should be abnormal. That's why it's fine for other people to be afraid of them, because they're freaks. But her sister shouldn't be afraid, because everyone else is normal and everything that happens to them is normal. Fear is for people who aren't freaks. They aren't allowed to be afraid because it's normal to be afraid of them.
It's weird. She doesn't understand her feelings, because that explanation feels wrong somehow. As if there could be any other reason why she would dislike seeing her sister be afraid. If there is another reason, she does not know what it is.
The girl doesn't say anything.
She just keeps walking apace with her sister until eventually the forest around them opens up from the foliage she hardly noticed—even when vines and tangles would tear and snap over her bare legs as if they were as brittle as sugar-glass.
The clearing sits a little bit up from the foot of a mountain; the path they took was sloped, but she can see a sheer cliff against the edge of the clearing. Not a particularly far drop, but the geography is novel enough to capture her attention, if only for a moment.
Below the cliff, she notes a small pool leading into the beginnings of a river. Back up top, she sees another small pond sitting beside the cliff's edge, clearly leading into it even if it lacks the flair she'd expect from a waterfall.
The girl strolls up to the pond without really thinking about it. Driven by a sense of curiosity that is so foreign to her that she doesn't even recognise it motivating her.
She comes to a stop at the edge of the water, her sister beside her, allowing her to see them both in the reflection. Two young girls caked in filth and on the cusp of adulthood, at least that is what she thinks.
Absently, her hands rise to pat at her chest. The other girls around their age in the village have started growing around their chests. Not yet quite like the mothers, but more than this girl and her sister.
The girl doesn't know that breasts are just fat, no different to the flesh covering the rest of her body. If she did, then perhaps she would understand that her emaciated limbs and sunken cheeks are the reason for their lacking of growth.
As she does not know these things however, she can only assume that it is because they are freaks that they do not get to share the shape of a normal woman. 'Normal' is out of their reach, after all, so they can only be abnormal in all that they are.
A pat on her shoulder has the girl's attention pulled back to her sister. The girl watches her sister raise an arm and point to her other side and she turns to follow the gesture with her gaze.
Further up the mountain, though not by far, the pool beneath them leads up through a shallow stream that ends swallowed by the mouth of a cave half as large as the homes back at the village. Thrice as large as the girl's own home.
Without a word, the girl simply nods and continues to walk, approaching the cave with her sister by her side. It does not take long to reach the mouth of the cave, and it is there that the girl learns that it is not a deep cave at all.
In fact, the cave's end can be seen even from the entrance, making it more of an alcove than a cave in truth.
In that depths, a near-score of reflective orbs catch the girl's attention and hold it tightly, her eyes lock on to the sight with an intensity that stirs her from the lethargy that she did not even know that she felt.
In that moment, the world could have ended around her and she would not have noticed, her attention was so stolen.
A sound splits the air like the rumble of warning given by a cornered animal, and the girl hardly even notices that it comes from her. Both her throat rumbling with desire and her stomach with such a hunger that it almost destroys her.
"See?" Her sister whispers by her side and were it anyone else's voice, the girl would not have heard it. "I told you I saw dogs."
The girl struggles to respond for a moment, her words trapped behind a throat that only wants to feast, but she does manage.
"I believed you."
Her sister simpers in both shame at her own insecurity and happiness at the faith.
The girl only watches the reaction for a moment before another growl strips her attention away, drawing her eyes to the larger of the dogs as it rouses itself up and into the image of cautious defence.
The girl doesn't spare the threatening curl of the animal's lips even a single thought as she briefly observes the animals in their entirety.
Six tiny dog pups all curled up together in a big pile pressed against the rock. One large dog, larger than any dog she has seen by at least twice as much, fully grown but visibly injured. The mother, one would assume; her rear left leg dyed red in harsh lines and held lightly against the ground.
The mother growls and glares at them—intruders in her den where her cubs reside.
The posturing is met with a light step forward from the girl, moving almost as if in a trance.
She finds herself guided more by this... animal in her mind, this thing that smothers her ability to think with words and replaces everything with only a single call, repeated over and over and over again. Louder and louder each time until she can hear it ringing right against her ears and simmering under her skin and—.
The girl moves.
She's barely conscious as she does, time turning into a blur of motion as her body acts on such instinct and need that by the time that she is thinking again, the girl finds that she is cleansed of the filth that had become so familiar a shade upon her skin.
Instead, it is red that coats her like armour. Dripping blood carving rivulets across her every inch of flesh, dripping onto the rocky surface below and beginning to pool where the shade is not diluted and carried away by the thin stream.
Around her is a massacre. Five cubs ripped to pieces by bare hands and teeth. One mother brutalised so thoroughly that its race is scarcely still identifiable.
A crunch draws her attention and the girl's head snaps to the side to see her sister sitting on a rock, painted the same shade of red but with a dog pup held in both her hands and in her teeth. A further crunch echoes before the pup is pulled away from her mouth and the girl watches her sister chew on the skull left behind for just a moment before her body reminds her of what it wants.
Without a word, the girl drops to her knees and reaches for the nearest corpse, another pup. There is not even the hesitation necessary to observe the meal before it is thrust into her mouth and torn apart by her jaw.
Neither of them hesitate.
She barely slows enough to chew, simply biting out chunks of flesh and fur and bone and swallowing it nearly hole before bringing the corpse straight back to her lips in a ravenous frenzy.
The sounds of flesh tearing, of gristly tendons snapping and bones crunching between desperate teeth echo through the cavern without pause, only ever slowing in the moments between a pup being devoured and the girl reaching for the next.
It takes less time than it should before they are done. Five baby wolves and one mother; all devoured in their entirety. The only evidence of their previous habitation being the swathe of drying blood painting the cavern and the remnants of fur desultorily splattered across the floor.
A satisfied smile alights itself upon the girl's visage as she collapses onto her back, arms splayed out without a care for the filth below her.
She feels... full.
One of her hands absently moves to brush against her face, tracing the lines of her smile.
She didn't know her face could do that. She's only ever seen it on normal people before.
Is it allowed? She doesn't know. Probably not, she's never been told as much, but she does know that freaks aren't allowed to pretend they aren't freaks, so she probably shouldn't; but for the first time in her life she finds that she just... doesn't care.
It feels good.
A scraping sound absently draws her eye and the girl dispassionately watches her sister drag another pup out of a nook it must have hid in by the tail; the sound coming from the animal's claws against stone.
The sound stops when the girl's sister grabs its little head and simply snaps it off before quickly devouring it all and allowing the girl to return to her thoughts.
She feels good.
She doesn't understand why. She doesn't understand that she has been hungry for so long that she has forgotten what it is like to be free from that pain. All she knows is...
She wants more.
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A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!
Anyone got any ideas for a title that can be used to refer to both Sukuna and Narauko? People aren't gonna wanna say both their names every time they're mentioning an exception. Best I can think of is 'twin freaks' lol
Also, I'm pretty sure I've already said how I intend to add bleach elements to the growing crossover, hopefully y'all don't mislike how I'm integrating things lol. Tho I will say that there is a distinction between a clan and a house, as the clan is a whole while a house is one specific lineage. So it's not like the kiyohara's are directly related to yoruichi, their line is like, second cousins to yoruichi's line. (Pretty sure yoruichi is like 800 or smth tho right? So she ain't born yet, tho shinigami being shinigami I can fuck with that if I feel like it.)