23 Threads of Support

September 7, 2018

The slant of sunlight on the wall was warm, but not yet harsh. My room felt... smaller, a little claustrophobic after the tense meeting. It was probably my imagination - the high-ceilinged halls and echoing footsteps didn't exactly scream 'cozy'.

My routine was a life raft. Get dressed, brush teeth... little things that didn't require a lot of thought. Stepping onto the courtyard was like breaking the surface of a dark pool.

Fushiguro was headed towards the workout area, that same tired look on his face. "You're up early," he said. "Rough mission yesterday?"

"Rough enough," I admitted. Leaving out the part where the biggest fight had been with a bunch of old sorcerers in stuffy robes. 

"Yeah, no kidding." He gave me a sideways glance, a bit of hesitance in it I hadn't seen before. "Listen... that thing yesterday with the higher-ups... you okay?"

I was genuinely surprised. "What about it?"

"You know..." he fumbled for words, "they get on everyone's case. It's part of their... power trip."

The laugh that escaped me was a little harsher than I intended. "Guess they have to justify their existence somehow, right?"

His lips tightened into a grim line. "That doesn't make it right. Those old geezers..." his voice trailed off, then he looked directly at me. "Don't let them twist you up inside, alright? They don't get what it's like...they don't get us."

His words, despite the rough edges, hit home. Fushiguro was usually so guarded, but this was raw, honest... a shield lowered.With everything that made me different, made us different. He was right, even amidst their power, the old sorcerers didn't understand what we were up against out there.

The workout was a welcome burn that banished the lingering mental fog. By the time we finished, the sun was higher, casting a cheerful warmth across the courtyard. As we headed back towards the dorms, a tantalizing aroma wafted our way - meat, rice, spices...

"Torturing me?" I called out as we headed inside. "That smells incredible."

A flash of a grin crossed Nobara's face as she emerged from the kitchen doorway, a dish rag slung over her shoulder. "Figured after yesterday, you'd be starved. Take a seat, breakfast will be ready soon."

Despite my hunger, I couldn't just let her do all the work. "Let me help," I said, moving towards the kitchen.

She eyed me for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. I'm making chirashi bowl. You can chop the vegetables."

The familiar task was soothingly mindless. Cucumber, carrot, the sharp tang of scallions filling the air as my knife fell in a steady rhythm. Nobara moved effortlessly, plates clattering with practiced efficiency.

Soon the kitchen was awash in chaos, and maybe that was okay. Maybe for now, this was enough - a respite from the questions, from the shadows. Just friends, and food, and the promise of a normal day. At least until the next mission.

=====

Gojo was waiting in the usual training field, a grin stretching across his face under that blinding white blindfold. "Well, well, if it isn't the prodigy himself," he drawled. "You ready to show me how far you've come since the mission?"

"Always," I retorted, a spark of competitive fire flaring in me. "Though it feels like just yesterday you were tossing me off cliffs and calling it training."

His laughter echoed through the clearing. "Come on, that builds character! Alright then, let's get started."

I focused, summoning the strands of cursed energy I'd spent countless hours mastering. First, the familiar basics - simple projectiles, a binding snare, the swirling shield I'd relied on countless times. Gojo nodded, a hint of approval in his voice.

"Not bad. But now, push past the usual." He waved a hand in a grand gesture. "More threads, more intricate forms. See if you can control them simultaneously, layer your attacks."

He made it sound simple. But as I attempted to weave more complex patterns with my threads, a knot of frustration tightened in my gut. It was like trying to juggle water - my concentration flickered, the constructs frayed and fell apart.

Gojo, infuriatingly perceptive, chuckled. "Something holding you back?"

I gritted my teeth. "This ain't drawing with a pencil, Gojo."

He tilted his head, somehow seemingly thoughtful even behind the blindfold. "True. But remember, control comes from the mind as much as the body. Hesitation... it leaves gaps in your energy." He tapped his temple for emphasis. "Enough training, for now. Let's take a break."

I collapsed onto the grass and Gojo settled beside me, the manic energy that usually radiated off him replaced with an unusual calm.

"So," he began, "mind telling me what was swirling around in there besides cursed energy?" He gestured toward my head, the question surprisingly gentle.

I sighed, the frustration giving way to something heavier. "The higher-ups. I keep replaying that whole... interrogation in my head."

"Those fossils give you a hard time?" He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "Don't let them get under your skin. Power like yours, it scares them. Reminds them they're getting old."

"It's the doubts that linger," I admitted. "They questioned if I'm even in control of my powers."

He hummed, his voice thoughtful. "Yeah... been there. It's part of the price you pay, I guess. People fear what they don't understand. Sometimes those old guys fear their own weaknesses more than anything."

That stung a bit. "What do you mean?"

Gojo paused, then met my gaze through the blindfold. "Even with all my strength, there was a time when everyone looked at me like some kind of monster. Potential gone wrong, you know? That messes with your head."

I stared at him, seeing Gojo in a new light - not just the flippant teacher, but someone who was burdened by the weight of his own power, and others' expectations.

"You don't think I'm... dangerous?" 

His laugh was a low rumble. "Nope. You've got control. But it's like learning an instrument. Early days, it's mostly screechy noises. Doesn't mean you'll never make beautiful music. Just gotta keep practicing."

I couldn't help but grin, a bit of the tension releasing from my shoulders. "Okay, Beethoven. So what do we do next?"

He tapped his temple. "Mind over matter. Breath in your fear and trust yourself. Now, let's get back to making those threads dance."

We started again. This time, letting go of my doubts felt like stepping off a ledge. Yet, as I banished those nagging thoughts and focused on the flow of energy alone, something shifted.

A thread, then another... they wove through the air with an ease I hadn't felt before. Not just simple forms, but layers - a net, reinforced by an overlapping spiral, its center a single, dense orb holding a pulse of raw cursed energy. It hung in the space between us, delicate yet undeniably powerful.

Gojo's whistle pierced the stillness. "Well, would you look at that? Seems like someone had a breakthrough."

 I destroyed the construct with a single thought, the strands dissolving into harmless motes.

"Again," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "And this time, I'll make it move."

Gojo's grin mirrored my own. "Now we're talking."

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of exertion and exhilaration. Patterns formed and reformed, shifting under my will. By the time the last rays of sunlight painted the sky orange, I slumped to the ground, exhausted but filled with a deep sense of satisfaction.

Gojo dropped down beside me, the energy from before replaced by a genuine warmth. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all." He ruffled my hair, a startlingly normal gesture. "There are always more levels, of course. But this... this is something good."

His words were like a seal of approval that mattered more than any word from those stuffy higher-ups. I wasn't done yet. 

Dusk painted the dorm lounge in warm hues, but the shadows in my own mind lingered from the day. I found Nobara sprawled across a couch, a fashion magazine open but her eyes distant.

"Hey," I greeted, collapsing into the armchair beside her.

She glanced up, her expression softening. "Hey. Someone looks like they got worked over by Gojo again."

"And then some. But...it was a good day, actually." Briefly, I filled her in on the training breakthrough, and her eyes lit up with that familiar spark.

Then a comfortable silence settled over us. After the talk with Gojo, a weight had been lifted. He might be an arrogant pain, but he was right. I was getting stronger, and the higher-ups' opinions... they didn't mean shit.

"You know," I began, "Gojo was right about those old geezers. Guess they're scared of getting left behind."

Nobara's laughter echoed off the walls. "Damn right they are. You keep this up, and they'll be begging for your autograph next."

"Maybe," I chuckled. "But hey, seriously... thanks for this morning. Making food... it helped ground me, you know?"

"Anytime," she said softly, her eyes sparkling. A hint of something warmer flickered between us - a shared secret, maybe, a quiet understanding after everything we'd faced.

A strand of hair had fallen loose, and the impulse to reach out, to tuck it behind her ear was almost irresistible. Before I could talk myself out of it, my body followed my instincts. 

Her breath caught. Time seemed to stretch, the world outside the dingy lounge fading. Leaning closer, I tilted her chin up, and just as our lips were about to touch...

The lounge door slammed open with a crash. "Lovebirds! Get a room, or better yet, get to the principal's office, on the double!" Gojo's voice boomed through the room, followed by his boisterous laughter.

We sprang apart like startled cats, faces burning. Gojo continued, grinning like an idiot. "Don't worry, Principal Yaga wants to see all three of you. Probably something super important."

The spell was thoroughly broken. Nobara was still glaring, but I caught a hint of pink still lingering on her cheeks. "Seriously? You couldn't wait five minutes?" I grumbled.

He just shrugged with that maddening nonchalance. "Hey, duty calls! You kids have fun, though..."

Luckily, he turned and headed up the stairs, probably to drag Fushiguro into whatever fresh chaos awaited us.

Nobara nudged me with her elbow. "Well, that was... interesting." There was a definite teasing note in her voice now, the amusement winning over the last of her irritation.

"I blame Gojo and his awful timing," I muttered.  

As we walked towards the principal's office, the silence between us was a mix of embarrassment and a strange sort of warmth. It wasn't our first kiss, but getting caught mid make-out was uncharted territory, even for us.

Finally, I couldn't hold the question back anymore. "Hey, Fushiguro," I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, "Any idea what this is about? Gojo said something about the principal wanting all three of us."

He grunted in his usual noncommittal way, and my stomach knotted tighter. If it was bad news, he probably would have sensed it by now, but then again, Fushiguro wasn't exactly an open book.

We reached the imposing doors of Yaga's office. Before I could knock, they swung open.

The principal's gaze swept over us, inscrutable as ever. "Murakami, Kugisaki, Fushiguro. Come in."

The room had its usual air of austere stillness. Yaga himself sat behind his massive desk, a thick file open before him. As we took our seats, I felt a prickle of apprehension down my spine. Missions called for by Yaga himself were never routine.

He cleared his throat. "I won't mince words. A troubling situation has arisen in Hokkaido. Over a dozen civilians have disappeared in the last month alone, leaving no trace."

Nobara shifted forward. "A string of kidnappings?"

"No," Yaga replied, his voice heavy. "No ransom demands, no communication. Our scouts have found faint traces of cursed energy at the disappearance sites... we suspect a particularly powerful curse may be involved."

The room seemed to grow colder. High-level curses were bad enough, ones cloaked in shadows? This was a whole different league of danger.

"Your mission is threefold," Yaga continued. "Investigate the disappearances, seek out the source, and if a threat exists... eliminate it." His gaze landed on me then, a silent weight. He knew what my enhanced senses could do.

"We'll get it done, sir."

Yaga nodded. "I have no doubt. However, this is a... sensitive matter. Public fear is high. Exercise the utmost discretion. I will arrange your travel, but expect to operate independently once on the ground." He slid the file forward. "This contains all we know. Prepare yourselves, and depart tomorrow morning."

The meeting ended with a dismissive wave of Yaga's hand. As we rose to leave, the enormity of what we faced hit me. Civilians vanishing into thin air, a powerful curse lurking in the shadows... and us, sent in to face it alone.