They bowed to her in public and cut her legs out from under her everywhere else. To those men, "ruler of Tokyo" was a phrase, not a person.
She had no strength to push back with, no way to force anything through. She went where they steered her, a figurehead with a title and nothing behind it.
She couldn't even protect a handful of innocent children. All she could do was watch them suffer.
"And even if it passed, you'd be treating the symptom."
He lifted his cup and took a slow sip, the flatness in his voice carrying something that had been earned. He'd lived this.
His own world came back to him. The Higher-ups of the Jujutsu Society. The sorcerers they'd ground down and pushed out. His own years of being maneuvered around and hemmed in. All that power and no voice, no one at his back, nothing to do but swallow it, right up until he broke the whole arrangement and started living by his own rules.
But he'd had the strength for that. He could change things, guard the people he chose to guard, and outlast anyone who objected.
She had none of it. Her power was a word attached to her name, and a word breaks the first time you lean on it.
Her shoulders sank, the light in her eyes fading by degrees. She'd been naive and there was no getting around it.
She'd believed a good law and honest intentions would be enough. That people would see the sense in it and the children's lives would change.
The world had never worked that way. Without force behind it, the finest idea in the world stays an idea.
"Rather than chasing something that big, I'd start with what's in front of you."
He set down the cup and leaned forward, the hardness gone out of his voice, replaced by something coaxing.
"What's in front of me?"
Her head came up, brows drawing together, those clear eyes fixed on him, half question and half plea.
She didn't follow. Her whole mind was on the bill, on every Cursed Child in the city, and the phrase meant nothing to her.
"Right."
He nodded, and something expectant showed in his face. "You can't save all of them at once. But there's a small group you could help today."
"A roof over their heads. Enough to eat. Even that's movement. That's worth doing, isn't it?"
Light broke across her face. She blinked, and understanding arrived with it, the crease between her brows smoothing out.
She'd been so fixed on all of them, on the bill, on the shape of a future, that she'd walked past the children standing at arm's length who needed help now.
Better to start with what her hands could reach. Help the ones she could help. Build from there.
"You mean the children in the 39th Area."
Urgency came into her voice, and hope with it. She watched him for confirmation, the light in her eyes climbing.
She thought of what he'd told her on the phone, of children sleeping in drainage tunnels, of what had been done to Aii, and something twisted under her ribs.
Those were the ones who needed it most. The ones she could still reach.
"Yes. That's why I came today."
He nodded, certainty settling into his voice. "I need a location. A laboratory set up for Miss Muroto, and ideally somewhere large enough that I can take in the children from the 39th Area."
He'd worked it through. Better than lying awake wondering whether they were being beaten, whether they'd eaten, whether they'd frozen. Simpler to take all of them in.
Under his own roof, none of those questions existed anymore.
He could guard them himself. Food, clothes, a warm place to sleep. No more tunnels, no more beatings, no more hunger or cold.
And from there he could keep taking in others, the abandoned and the hunted, expanding it piece by piece. An orphanage built for Cursed Children, in everything but name. If the bill never passed, if the city never changed its mind, at least the ones near him would grow up whole and happy.
"An orphanage. Specifically for Cursed Children."
Her eyes lit. She had the whole shape of it now, and it was more grounded than the bill, and far more achievable.
"Close enough." He smiled, tension easing out of him. "The law might be beyond you. This isn't."
"Finding a site, putting up a place for children, arranging a laboratory. For the ruler of Tokyo, that shouldn't be difficult."
"And once every Cursed Child has somewhere safe and warm to grow up, that's protection too. Isn't it?"
She nodded hard, a smile surfacing that hadn't been there in a long while, the helplessness burned clean out of her.
Why hadn't she seen it? The bill was buried under resistance. An orphanage was a different door into the same room, and that door opened.
It would help the children now, and slowly, it might soften how people saw them. Give it years and the city might come around on its own. Then the law would face a shorter climb.
She reached for the desk phone without hesitating, excitement still working in her face, and pressed a button.
The call lasted seconds. A brief instruction, then she hung up and waited.
A knock came at the door soon after, followed by a crisp "Reporting," and Takuto Yasuwaki stepped inside.
Uniform immaculate, back straight, expression respectful. He crossed the room and delivered a textbook bow. "You called for me, Lady Seitenshi?"
His gaze passed over Gojo and Sumire on the way, and at the sight of Gojo something bright flickered behind his eyes.
Ever since Seitenshi had learned magic under this man's instruction, Yasuwaki had been hunting for an excuse to get near him again, to ask questions, to learn.
The problem was timing. Gojo was either shut in his apartment or somewhere across the city, and the opening had never come.
Now he'd been summoned with the man standing right here. Whatever the task was, it meant contact. Maybe more than that.
"Find a suitable site and prepare a laboratory for Mr. Gojo," she said, laying it out in order. "Then find somewhere large. Quiet, secure, able to house a number of children. Arrange supplies and staff, and get it done quickly."
"Understood, Lady Seitenshi. I'll see to it immediately."
He answered fast, something eager buried in the words, bowing again before his eyes slid back toward Gojo with unmistakable hope in them.
Get this right. No mistakes. Do it well enough and he might teach me something.
"Hold on."
Sumire's voice stopped him mid-turn, brisk and without a shred of ceremony.
He halted and looked back, courtesy still fixed on his face. "Was there something else, Miss Muroto?"
He had no particular fondness for her, and a healthy wariness besides. But her standing was beyond argument: former chief scientist of Japan, one of the Four Sages, someone even Seitenshi deferred to.
She pulled a prepared list from her bag and held it out. "Equipment for the laboratory. All of it. Nothing missing, and nothing second-rate."
He took it, surprised by how little it weighed. Then he gave it a shake and the thing unfurled like a roll of paper towels, down and down, nearly reaching the floor.
Dense text covered every inch. Test tubes and beakers alongside precision instruments that cost more than houses, and several items that had gone out of production years ago and barely existed anymore.
The corner of his mouth twitched. He kept the rest of his face still.
This is outrageous. She's asking for the moon and demanding the best version of it. Why not empty every laboratory in Tokyo and gift-wrap the lot.
None of which he'd say aloud. He didn't even let displeasure reach his expression.
He understood what she was worth. Ten thousand of him wouldn't balance against her.
If having her back in Tokyo meant meeting demands ten times this size, the Higher-ups would sign off without blinking.
"Of course, Miss Muroto. I'll do everything possible to source it in full."
He drew a breath, buried the complaint, and folded the list away with care.
"Big brother, Aii's all clean."
The voice floated in from the bathroom, soft and bubbling with happiness, and then she appeared in the doorway.
The white dress Seitenshi had ordered for her ran a little large, hanging loose on that small frame, but it was spotless.
Her hair was still wet, plastered to her cheeks, water sliding off the ends onto her shoulders. Underneath the grime her skin was pale and fine, and those newly restored eyes shone.
She bounded across the room to him, grinning, holding the hem of the dress in both fists so she wouldn't dirty it.
The whole day had been a dream she kept expecting to end. Her sight returned, the world visible again, her mother's face after all those years. Then a full meal inside a palace, clean clothes, and a hot bath.
All of it from him. Without him she'd still be down in the dark, still hungry, still cold, still someone's target.
Yasuwaki turned toward her, and when he saw the red of her eyes, disgust surfaced before he could catch it. The recoil sat plainly on his face.
Why is there a filthy little half-breed standing in this room.
He hated the Cursed Children. Most people did. He hated them more than most.
Monsters, in his view. Walking omens. Things that had no right to exist, that would bring Tokyo down and take everyone's happiness with it.