Chapter Text
The café was quaint, nestled on a quiet street adorned with cherry blossoms. Inside, the air carried the rich aroma of coffee and baked goods. Kiyomi sat across from Naoya, the contrast between their traditional attire and the modern setting striking an odd balance.
Naoya was impeccably composed. His tailored suit and confident demeanor exuded charm, and his every movement seemed deliberate. For the first time, Kiyomi allowed herself to relax slightly.
“So,” Naoya began, his voice gentle, “what do you remember about your father?”
The question hit a nerve, but Kiyomi didn’t show it. “Not much,” she admitted, stirring her tea. “He wasn’t around for long, but I remember he promised to come back.”
Naoya’s expression softened, a hint of sadness coloring his features. “Toji was… complicated. But he loved fiercely in his own way. He was strong, brave, and determined to carve his path.”
Kiyomi’s grip on her cup tightened. “You knew him well?”
“Of course,” Naoya said with a small smile. “He was my cousin, after all. When I was younger, I idolized him. He didn’t conform to the Zen’in traditions—he was different, and I admired that.”
Hearing someone speak about her father so fondly stirred emotions Kiyomi had buried. Her heart ached with longing and a flicker of hope.
Naoya continued, carefully watching her reactions. “I can see some of him in you, you know. The way you carry yourself—it’s unmistakable.”
Kiyomi felt her cheeks flush. She wasn’t used to such compliments, especially not from someone like Naoya. His polished manners and kind words were a stark contrast to Satoru’s teasing and blunt honesty.
“Why doesn’t Gojo like the Zen’in clan?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Naoya sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Gojo and the Zen’ins have a… complicated history. It’s not for me to say, but I’ll tell you this: whatever animosity exists, it doesn’t define who you are. You’re a Zen’in, and that’s something to be proud of.”
Her eyes searched his face for any trace of deceit, but Naoya’s demeanor remained impeccable. “The Zen’in clan… they seem so different from what Gojo made them out to be,” she admitted.
Naoya chuckled. “We’re not perfect, but neither is anyone else. You’re welcome to visit us anytime, Kiyomi. You can see for yourself where your father grew up, the legacy he left behind.”
His words struck a chord. Despite her loyalty to Gojo, there was a part of her that yearned to understand her roots.
“And your brother,” Naoya added, his tone lighter, “how is he? Megumi, right?”
Kiyomi hesitated before answering. “He’s doing well. He’s quiet but popular at school.”
“That’s good to hear,” Naoya said warmly. “Family is everything, Kiyomi. If you ever feel comfortable, bring him along when you visit. The Zen’in clan is as rich and powerful as the Gojo clan, you know. It could be a good opportunity for both of you.”
Kiyomi nodded, her thoughts swirling. Naoya was so different from what she had imagined—gentle, understanding, and genuinely interested in her and Megumi’s well-being.
As they left the café, Naoya escorted her to the street with the care of a true gentleman. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Kiyomi,” he said, bowing slightly. “I hope we can talk again soon.”
“Thank you, Naoya,” she replied, a faint smile on her lips.
As she walked away, Kiyomi couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Naoya had been perfect—too perfect. And yet, a part of her wanted to believe him.
What if everything she thought she knew about her father and the Zen’in clan wasn’t the whole truth? And what would Gojo say if he found out about this meeting?
Kiyomi glanced back once, seeing Naoya standing by his car, watching her with a polite smile. She turned away, her heart conflicted, and her resolve shaken.
.
The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time Kiyomi stepped through the grand entrance of the Gojo estate. The usually welcoming glow of the mansion’s lights felt uncharacteristically harsh tonight. She tried to shake off the lingering thoughts of Naoya’s words, but they clung to her like shadows.
“Kiyomi.” Satoru’s voice broke through her reverie.
She glanced up to find him standing in the foyer, arms crossed, his white hair catching the light. His signature blindfold was perched slightly above his brow, revealing his piercing blue eyes.
“You’re late,” he said, his tone light, but his expression held an edge of concern.
“I lost track of time,” Kiyomi replied, her voice soft as she avoided his gaze.
Satoru wasn’t convinced. “Lost track of time?” he repeated, stepping closer. “You’re not usually so careless. Where were you?”
Before Kiyomi could answer, Megumi appeared at the doorway, his sharp eyes flickering between the two. He didn’t say a word, but the tension in the room wasn’t lost on him.
“Just… out,” Kiyomi said, brushing past Satoru toward the dining room.
Satoru watched her go, his jaw tightening. “Out where?” he called after her, but she didn’t respond.
The three of them sat down to dinner shortly after, the table spread with an assortment of dishes prepared by the estate’s staff. Usually, these meals were filled with banter and laughter, with Kiyomi teasing Megumi or Satoru making exaggerated boasts. Tonight, however, the atmosphere was heavy.
Kiyomi picked at her food in silence, her thoughts far away. Satoru kept glancing at her, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by unease. Megumi, observant as always, ate quietly, his eyes darting between the two.
For a moment, Megumi felt a twinge of jealousy. He loved his sister dearly, but Gojo’s favoritism toward her was undeniable. If Megumi was upset, Satoru would brush it off with a joke or a casual pat on the head. But if Kiyomi so much as frowned, Satoru would turn the world upside down to make her smile again.
Megumi didn’t resent Kiyomi for it. She deserved every bit of affection she received. Still, the fact that he had to share her with Satoru gnawed at him sometimes.
The maids exchanged glances as they cleared the table, whispering among themselves about the unusual tension. “What could that man have done to upset her?” one of them murmured.
After dinner, Kiyomi excused herself and retreated to her room. Satoru lingered in the hallway, debating whether to follow her. His instincts screamed that something was wrong, but Kiyomi was stubborn, and pushing her too hard would only make her shut him out.
Megumi watched from the shadows, his expression unreadable.
That night, as Kiyomi lay in bed, Naoya’s words replayed in her mind. He had been so kind, so understanding. He spoke about her father with a tenderness that felt genuine, and yet… something about it all unsettled her.
Her thoughts drifted to Satoru. Why did he dislike the Zen’in clan so much? Could it really be as simple as a long-standing feud? Or was there something more?
Kiyomi stared at the ceiling, her heart heavy with doubt. Naoya’s invitation to visit the Zen’in clan loomed in her mind, tempting her with the promise of answers about her father.
But what would Satoru say if he knew? Would he even understand?
She sighed, turning onto her side. Sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.