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amuromi · 10 months ago

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★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 6.4k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ SFW! manga spoilers! aged up!Maki, arranged marriage, canon typical misogyny, reader has a surname

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ Full transparency, this might not be my best work because this was a brainworm that I banged out in a day or so. It didn’t have as much time in the oven as my other works, but I hope y’all still enjoy it!

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

The head of the Hoga clan seems to have a particular fondness for incense. The usual, modestly sized koro have been replaced with needlessly large urns that stand vigil in each corner of the room. Blue gray smoke fills the air with a sickly sweet scent that is starting to gather between Maki’s brows in the painful beginnings of a headache. She takes shallow breaths through her mouth, keeping the cup of tea a maid prepared for her close to her face. The smell of steeped leaves helps to keep the budding migraine at bay as she waits with dwindling patience for the clan leader to make his appearance.

Maki hadn’t entered the Hoga estate expecting any type of special treatment from anyone of worth in the clan rankings. Behind the three reigning jujutsu clans came clans like this. Their family tree spanned through centuries of history the same as the Zenins, Gojos, or Kamos, but their bloodline was spotty at best when it came to producing truly exceptional sorcerers. One or two of note for every generation, never exceeding first grade ranking. Maki muses over the kinship she might have with the unremarkable members of the clan. Those that are the same as her. Blind to curses, woefully low levels of curses energy. Those were the members that she found herself wondering about as her legs go numb beneath her. She wants to get up, to stretch and maybe ask what’s taking so long, but truthfully she knows. She still pities those beneath her ranking because to everyone in this clan she is no different.

Despite the fact that she’d managed to climb the ranks tooth and nail and become head of her clan, Maki is still a poor substitute for the type of clan leader everyone expects. If she were a vase she’d be seen as empty despite the Zenin blood flowing inside her. She stares at the tea leaves gathered at the bottom of her cup and wonders how much longer Hoga-sama will make her wait. As far as she’s concerned, he’s already proved his point, now it’s just wasting time. She sets down her cup, table rattling with the force of her irritability, just as the shoji slides open.

“Has something upset you, Zenin-sama?” Hoga taunts as he saunters into the room. “I forgot women can’t be left on their own for too long.” His words are as bothersome as rain sliding off the slope of a roof. Men like him exist in every corner of her life. He’s all smarmy smiles and belittling laughs as he shuffles towards his place opposite of her, every bit as chauvinistic as any other unenlightened man she’s ever met. Growing up in the vicinity of Naoya and his ilk have made Maki particularly unperturbed by any hint of misogyny someone deigns to level at her. The rampant distrust and distaste for a female in any place of power has only worsened as her looks faded. Scars seemingly depleting her societal value despite it being proof etched into her very being that she deserves her place at the head of her clan, earned it in a way many of her complacent detractors never could.

Hoga-sama looks particularly unscathed in his expensive kimono, tied loose around the soft jut of his belly. He looks pampered and hearty. Completely untouched by the hands of active combat. He seems more jovial than anything, satisfied with his petty attack that has done little besides sour Maki’s mood and thin her patience. And while she’d like to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the extent of the damage–a show of perceived feminine weakness–she can’t help the sneer spoiling her expression.

“Let’s not waste time,” Maki prompts, “I’m here to make my final selection.” A partner. Someone to head the clan by her side. None of her own clan members were willing. Most of them would just as soon spit on her than accept a marriage proposal despite the prestige that would come with being wed to the clan leader. And of the other two clans she hardly had any viable options. Marrying into the Gojo clan was impossible considering her prior relationship with their clan head and her superior during her time as a student. The Kamo clan would’ve been a fruitful endeavor had they not turned their noses up at the first female clan leader. No one wanted to part with a precious son so here Maki was, groveling to the lower ranks. And Hoga has been just as obtuse about the whole thing as the Kamo clan had been, giving her the runaround throughout the whole process. Showing up late, providing the worst possible candidates as her potential spouse. She insisted that she’d find her partner today or move on to another clan. The words had stung her tongue like drinking venom but she refused to let herself be led around like a blind horse.

If the Hoga don’t want to provide her with a partner to wed she’ll defer to another clan. For the briefest moment the name Inumaki crops up in the back of her head like a weed sprouting up between pavement, steadfast and resilient. Toge wouldn’t be so terrible if he were willing given their foundational friendship, but Maki doesn’t want to tangle him up in a marriage of convenience if she doesn’t have to. She files him away as the very last, scraping the dregs resort. But it’s slowly getting to that point because how long can she realistically go on for. Burning the candle at both ends as she knocks door to door all but begging for someone to extend an olive branch. There’s only so many clans and the strongest ones have already been ruled out. It shouldn’t be this hard to get married, Maki thinks. She’s a Zenin, the head of one of the strongest clans in jujutsu society. It would be an honor to marry her. But it’s been clear since her official inauguration that everyone is simply biding their time, watching and waiting for her to fail. To fall at their feet and admit defeat. Her fists tighten in her lap, tucked out of view of the man seated across from her. She won’t admit to faltering. Not now. Not ever.

“You must be so eager.” Hoga-sama says dotingly. “Women love their romance.” It makes him sound ignorant to the true nature of women but Maki decides that’s just fine with her. Women, to her knowledge, are vicious and cunning when it comes to getting what they want. If he wants to go on living under the impression that society still operates under feudal era sensibilities then so be it. Perhaps she’ll get a half decent husband out of his archaic idea of the world. Hoga-sama, still laughing to himself, fishes around in the sleeve of his kimono before producing a folder. It’s tossed on the table unceremoniously. It would be proper conduct for him to simply hand it to her, or at least set it down with some dignity, but she knows he’s done it simply as another slight against her. Maki resists the urge to roll her eyes as she reaches to open the folder. She feels the tension twitch through her brow, her glower worsening as she flips through the papers.

“Something wrong? I took all your previous critiques to heart before making any final decisions. Someone close to your age and a high level of cursed energy from the main branch of the family. If you’re unhappy I’m sure a new match can be arranged with a lower ranking clan.” Maki clenches her teeth to keep from snapping something uncouth at the man lounging across from her. Hoga-sama looks quite proud of himself as he watches her read over the file he’s provided.

A woman. He’s offering her a woman. It hardly bothers her that she’s a woman, but the implication was clear. Maki isn’t deserving of a husband. Someone to produce an heir with. Her genes weren’t worth wasting any of the Hoga clans viable members on. But the woman staring up at her is beautiful and everything that she asked for according to all the notes typed into neat paragraphs. They distilled her down to the broadest strokes. A year younger than Maki with an innate ability that has her questioning why Hoga-sama would be so willing to sell her down the river. He’s smiling like he’s proud of handing her a rock and calling it a diamond but the longer Maki reads the more she thinks he must be a bit dense to be disregarding such a powerful member of his clan. On paper her Dissection technique sounds formidable but the more she reads, the more Maki realizes they’ve likely never given her prospective bride the chance to showcase the extent of her power. She doesn’t even have a Grade ranking which belies a lack of proper training. Women are meant to be seen and not heard. That’s why the little profile boasts about culinary expertise and enviable embroidery skills. Things that have no bearing on whether or not you’d make a good sorcerer.

The longer Maki reads and stares at the picture of you paperclipped to your file, the less she dislikes the idea of marrying you. Though she can’t imagine a Hoga woman will be too enthused about being arranged to be married off to the supposed Zenin usurper. Maki closes the file, pushing it back towards Hoga-sama.

“Not to your liking?” His smile is wicked. “That’s unfortunate. I’m sure she would’ve loved to be married off to a Zenin.”

“I accept the proposal.” Maki says with a tone of finality, already rising to leave before the man can process what she’s said. “The wedding will be a month from today. I expect her to be there.” Behind her Hoga-sama stutters and rushes to his feet, knocking into the table as he does. The tea set so generously laid out by a maid clatters and falls to the floor, the liquid staining the tatami mats and spilling over the file the man had meant to offend her with. Maki offers him a parting bow, closing the door before he can think up a rebuttal.

As requested, the wedding is arranged with the splendor a clan head deserves. The shrine chosen for the occasion looks immaculate in the setting sun, the old wood facade soaking in the amber light. There’s a haze of cursed energy about it, a cursed relic contained somewhere within because the only shrine willing to marry her was one under Jujutsu Tech’s jurisdiction. Sunlight blooms in blurred spots across Maki’s glasses as she waits on the front steps, refusing to entertain the thought that the Hoga clan would be audacious enough to leave her waiting at the altar for a bride that will never come. Slowly the light starts to dip dangerously low behind the tree line, grinding Maki’s patience to dust with each passing minute. Punctuality doesn’t seem to be something of importance to the Hoga clan. Her composure is all but lost by the time a car comes around the curve of the dirt road leading to the secluded shrine.

A cloud of dust kicks up as the tires squeal to a half, the driver hastily jumping out without bothering to cut the engine. There’s a pain to his gait as he limps to the back passenger door, a bruise solidifying on the curve of his jaw. He takes a deep breath before pulling the door handle, trying to skitter out of the way of whoever’s inside. He’s too slow on his hurt ankle and catches a sandled foot to the stomach. The driver falls to his knees, doubling over and spilling his stomach onto the stone walkway. Over his retching, Maki can hear a voice shouting from inside the car.

“I’m not going to be bartered off like some broodmare!” Maki makes out as she sidesteps the prone driver to peer inside the car, just far enough to avoid being kicked herself. There’s a voice thick with discontent as someone snaps back at the woman shouting about “doing her duty as a Hoga clanswoman.” She recognizes the condescending tone as Hoga-sama.

“What has the clan ever done for me?” The woman seethes. There’s rustling and grunting before a cloud of white comes stumbling out of the car. She recognizes you in an instant. Her bride in her snow white wedding kimono that seems to shimmer silver and gold beneath the twilight sky. You nearly trip over your zori as you scramble away from the car, cursing at Hoga-sama. He shouts back more indignities of his own but you hardly seem concerned as you take off in the opposite direction of the shrine, sprinting in your tiers of white silk towards the trees. Never once do your eyes even glance at Maki or even the driver you kicked for that matter. She almost considers letting you go with how determined you seem to escape, but Hoga-sama comes spilling out of the car behind you.

His gaze shines with rage as he chases after you. He’s slow on his feet but you’re slower in the heavy layers of your kimono. He gets his fist around a handful of fabric and pulls hard like bringing a rogue dog to heel on its leash. You stumble backwards, careening into the older man as he gets an arm around your waist to drag you back towards the shrine. Your shouting carries, echoing across the sky as he steers you towards Maki. But all your kicking and screaming is for naught as you’re shoved back to where you started. You push the clan head aside with both hands, wrists conjoined with a length of rope.

It rumples the delicate silk of your sleeves as your clever fingers try to loosen the knots. And even standing before her, you still refuse to do much as acknowledge Maki. She decides that’s alright. You’ll have time to be properly acquainted after the ceremony is over and done with, but she still reaches to untie you.

“I wouldn’t,” Hoga-sama, still hovering next to them, advises. Maki ignores him.

“I would.” Is all she says, tugging at the knots until they come loose. By the time they’re unfurled you’re looking up at her and Maki finally allows herself to enjoy the beauty set before her. In this moment she doesn’t care that the priest and her guests are waiting, that she was almost shamed by having her bride run off on her, how inauspicious everything about this day has become. She only cares that your eyes look pretty in the low light, and that the scowl that has been fixed on your face since you came bursting out of the car has softened into a mask of indifference.

“Who are you?” The question seems a bit inane seeing as Maki is wearing a shiromuku similar to your own but it doesn’t surprise her that Hoga-sama neglected to give the details of your arranged betrothal. Maki’s ascension to the head of the Zenin clan is an open secret, known but not spoken of because speaking would somehow make it truer than it already is. She imagines all you were told is that you’re being married off to the Zenin and that could only spark thoughts of some older man preying on a young bride. Which Maki decidedly isn’t.

“I’m your bride.” She says carefully. With her cropped hair and loosely fitted clothes, you’d be forgiven for assuming that she might be a man despite the color of her kimono and Maki doesn’t want you entering your marriage under the belief that she isn’t anything but a woman.

“Bride?” Your brows rise under the canopy of your tsunokakushi. “You’re not a man?”

“No, I’m not.” Maki agrees. That seems to settle you, the storm finally waning from your eyes.

Something prideful unfurls in the Zenin head’s chest at the thought. Of knowing she’s somehow mollified the spitfire delivered to her simply by looking at her. Surely it won’t last long, perhaps not even long enough for them to drink their sake and say their vows. But at this moment her bride seems happy enough to be marrying her. When Maki offers her hand you accept it, humming when her thumb brushes over the marks left by the tight ropes. She’ll have to think of a proper punishment for delivering her bride like a hostage but that can come after she makes you a Zenin.

There’s little enthusiasm imparted to the ceremony, but it’s hardly of any consequence. This surely isn’t the first time this shrine has served as the backdrop for a loveless union. Though it’s certainly the first time two women have been wed here.

Maki tries not to dwell on it as the priest and maiko instruct the two of you through the usual rites. It’s a short ceremony with the expected vows of submission and blessing of fertility. Someone coughs, trying to hide a laugh, at the mention of fertility and it sets Maki’s teeth on edge. When it’s over her lips taste of sake, the only thing she’s managed to eat or drink since waking.

She tries not to imagine the dishonor it would bring to the union if she’d gotten sick over the ceremonial alcohol on her empty stomach. Even during the reception as you accept envelopes of money and well wishes from extended family and supposed friends, she can barely do more than nibble at the plates of food places in front of you.

As grateful as she is that your marriage will solidify her place as head of her clan, Maki can’t bring herself to find an honest smile, though you grin and bear it well enough beside her. This is duty, she reminds herself as yet another blessing of longevity is said for your newly minted union. None are wishing her such things. All eyes seem to gravitate towards you, as if Maki isn’t there at all, like you married a ghost. The thought further sours her mood as Maki belatedly remembers the tradition of marrying the deceased if the occasion calls for it. She might’ve married some late, forgotten member of the clan. They’re too close in relation for her to marry someone of note like Naoya, though the knowledge that he would’ve despised his name being linked to hers in any way would’ve brought Maki a great sense of satisfaction.

As she mulls over the what ifs, Maki doesn’t miss the way no one offers you compliments on her looks. Everyone that comes to bring well wishes and pay respects to the newlyweds as is customary seem to avoid steering too near to her. She imagines they’re all people invited by the Hoga clan. Family members and offshoots of the main branch, blood so thinned they can hardly claim any connection to the prestigious clan at all. They all seem so far estranged from the realities of jujutsu, of why this wedding needed to happen in the first place. Each of them shies away from her as they come to speak to you. One girl’s hand shakes as she hands you her goshugi, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially to you.

“She’s quite scary, isn’t she?” The girl doesn’t even dare to cut a glance towards Maki but you do, head turning to regard your wife’s profile. Maki knows what she looks like. Her face is scarred, healed burns cutting ragged shapes across every inch of her skin. She tries not to scowl at your obvious appraisal, a thin strand of worry lacing through her as she wonders what you think of being tied to a more rugged looking woman.

“I don’t think so,” you disagree, effectively dismissing the girl from the table. She blanches, offering a shrilled apology before shooting to her feet. Maki watches her hastily disappear into the crowd. They’re all here to celebrate your marriage, though she knows only a few people look truly content with it. Neither of which are you or her. Across the room Hoga-sama stands arm in arm with a demure looking woman who she assumes to be his wife. Beside them is a couple she guesses are your parents judging by how doting everyone around them seems to be. Probably offering congratulations on sending their only daughter off to join such an exalted clan. Never mind that Hoga-sama meant for this union to be an insult to Maki rather than a reward for your family.

Still, he looks satisfied with himself, having been the first to give the two of you blessings for a long and happy marriage. Maki nearly broke a tooth from how hard she clenched her teeth when he said he expected many children from your happy little arrangement. The bastard.

“You don’t think I’m scary?” Maki asks. It’s the first words she’s said to you since your first meeting outside. Even her vows were said more to the air than to you directly. And now you sit side by side, speaking without facing one another.

The table visits have stopped for the moment and she sees your smile drop a fraction, slipping without anyone to aim it at. No one is watching the two of you as far as she can see. Everyone is far too engrossed in themselves as people tend to be when they’re told from birth that they’re special, a cut above normal people. It’s easy to parse servants from guests, and main branch family from extended family. Everyone in the reception carries themselves with different levels of dignity. Maki would like to pretend she’s exempt from it but she can feel her pride stirring at the knowledge that maybe you aren’t so perturbed by all of this. Considering the less than savory circumstances of it all. The beginnings of a smile sour on her face at your response.

“Of course I do.” Yes. Of course. Why wouldn’t you find her scary?

The multitude of scars covering her body. The reputation that precedes her. Tales of the merciless way she’s been known to execute curses. Of course she’s scary in a sense, especially considering that you’re not a sorcerer. Though you’d likely be more powerful than her if given proper training. But fear doesn’t seem to be much of a hindrance for you. You declare it so simply that Maki can’t be sure that you actually meant it at all. And anyway, to fear Maki would be to fear your own shadow. Now that you’re married there’s nowhere you can go that Maki won’t be able to follow. Nothing short of death can part you. Just as your vows said. You seem to ponder something, chewing pensively on a mouthful of red rice before finding your voice again.

“You’re not scary in a physical sense. Actually, I think you’re quite attractive, but two things can be true at once. You’re intimidating and pretty.” You say plainly. Maki looks at you with renewed eyes. Between the ceremony and reception the both of you were whisked away to separate side rooms to be unfurled from the heavy layers of the ridgidly traditional shiromuku for something less formal. Now you’re tucked into a bright red kimono patterned with flowers and soaring cranes. It’s easier to see you as simply a woman now that you’re not weighed down by the trappings of a bride.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me in any sense.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see how this marriage works out then, won’t we?” Your clipped tone effectively ends the conversation though the reception continues on. Attractive. Maki tries not to dwell on the compliment although she’s received so few after Jogo set her aflame. Someone walks over to break the tension with more congratulations and the moment passes. They still stray towards you, giving Maki a cursory bow if they feel so bold. Only the sorcerers bother to speak to her. Okkotsu, Inumaki, and her nephew Megumi are a of the few familiar faces at the reception, though they look no more enthused about the circumstances than Maki as they finally make their way over to offer well wishes.

“Congratulations, Maki.” Belatedly she realizes that she never properly introduced herself. She can see you mouthing the shape of her name to yourself as her friends and colleagues crowd around the head table to share introductions and gifts. The rest of the reception passes in much the same way. Small bites of food, visits from familiar and unknown faces, and only a few words shared between the two of you.

It isn’t until late into the evening that the last few guests are shooed home by attendants and the both of you are ushered into a car. No expense was spared for the wedding and it shows. Right down to the accommodation Hoga-sama arranged for both of you to enjoy for the next few days. A handful of servants from the Hoga clan accompany the two of you on the short trip from the shrine to a neighboring inn and help you settle in before bowing and taking their leave.

The room is made up handsomely with tapestries lining the walls. Ladies dancing with foxes. Men hunting elegant deer. Samurai fighting on the backs of rearing horses. Even the shoji is covered with paper painted with pale flowers. The light seeping through from the hall made it look as though it was raining blossoms before the attendants went about lighting the lanterns. Now the room is filled with warm light and silence. It would be deafening if not for the thoughts swirling through Maki’s head, crashing against her skull like turbulent waves. There has been little peace in her mind since her hunt for a partner began. It had taken so long for her plans to be put into action and Maki finds herself still reeling as though this is all some strange dream, as if she’ll fall asleep beside you and wake in her room as if this day had never happened. You seem more at ease, busting yourself with the menial distraction of opening the gifts the servants left neatly against the wall. Most of them are the customary envelopes of money neatly gathered into a chest but a few miscellaneous items sit on top of the wooden box.

She watches you open the first satchel to find a fan, but it seems to be more for decoration than functionality. The opalescent material sparkles in the candlelight, throwing tiny rainbows across your skin as you turn it over in your hands. Fully unfolded, it shows a scene of a delicate tree full of blooming flowers with fairies hiding amongst the flower petals drawn in gilded paint. It’s gorgeous and undoubtedly expensive. The rest of the gifts seem more humble in comparison. A dagger with a jade hilt carved in the likeness of a snake simmering with cursed energy. A string of amber beads with one bead bearing the inscription of “first child”. Teething beads. Maki imagines this gift must’ve been from Hoga-sama himself because who else would give such a gift knowing of the particularly sensitive type of issue that two brides present in terms of having children.

The last gift she recognizes as being sent by Jujutsu Tech; a matching set of bira bira kanzashi. She remembers a manager asking if she’d mind a gift from the school’s extensive vaults, though she hadn’t expected such a lavish present. Maki recognizes the jewelry only vaguely having heard that they once belonged to some famous sorcerer’s wife or mistress. Now they’re hers. The silver hair ornaments are topped with elegant dragons, the tassels jingling like wind chimes as you move to the mirror to see how they look in your hair. Maki finds your eyes in the reflection. She watches your expression waver like rippling water, going through the stages of grief before settling on heavy acceptance. With a sigh you set the distractions aside.

“Can we speak frankly with each other?” You ask after a beat of silence.

“I don’t see why not.” Maki has made herself comfortable on the oversized futon, half reclined on as she watches you pretend to ignore her.

“How are you feeling about all this? Truly?”

Maki answers without thinking. Like a full cup finally overflowing, all the tensions of the day spill out with only a few words. “So far, I hate most of it.”

Her bride was late and nearly ran away and her guests acted as though she didn’t exist at her own reception. Not to mention the members of her clan lurking in the shadows just waiting for her to fall to her knees and declare her surrender under all the pressure of their impossible standards. Each day has made her feel like she’s completing an impossible task, like trying to empty the ocean drop by drop. She’s had better days. And today in particular, Maki could’ve foregone all the fanfare of tradition but it’s what’s expected of her as clan head. Some things are simply necessary and her marriage to you is one of them. Hate it or not.

“Oh.” The little sound is small and resigned, as if she’s somehow disappointed you with her candor. She probably has. It wouldn’t be the first time her blunt tone has ruined an otherwise calm moment. She hadn’t meant to pour all her frustration out into the open but opening the two even for a moment seems to have released the floodgates. She can feel all the pent up anger simmering just under her skin, itching to be released. But she doesn’t want to take all her bitterness out on you.

“Well, luckily you’ll only have to do it once. These kinds of ceremonies can be quite tedious.” You say evenly, busying yourself with reorganizing the gifts. There’s a bit more strength than necessary behind your movement as you set each item down and Maki knows she’s gone and ruined whatever mood you were trying to foster with her sharp tongue. She can hear your personality bleeding into the edge of your words, an attitude simmering just below the surface.

“I guess.” She tries to sound amicable. “Although the topic of concubines will be another headache to deal with soon enough.”

“Concubines?” You whirl towards her, face set in a deep scowl. It’s the same look you’d had when Hoga-sama foiled your escape attempt. A sort of exasperated contempt. Not a hint of resignation sparking in your eyes.

“Well, yeah. We can’t exactly make an heir ourselves.” Maki can understand your hesitance but given the circumstances and the hereditary monarchy with which the clans abide by, she’ll have need of a man at some point or another. She might’ve been able to usurp her clan head but she can’t allow all she’s done to be undone by her death. If she slaves the rest of her life to rebuild her clan in her own vision of equality only to have it all slip away the moment another male heir with ideas of erasing her from history comes into power, Maki might just turn into a curse to avenge her own memory. An heir of her own that she can raise and teach in her own image is crucial for the future of the Zenin clan or all this was for nothing.

“So you’re going to take in a concubine? Build a harem just like all these other men? What was the point in marrying me? I’m sure this would be easier had you bothered to find a husband instead of a wife.” Maki agrees but she doesn’t say as much. A man would’ve made things easier, but she much prefers this. The dynamic of being with a woman. The two of you can come to understand each other in a way no other man of your world could. Even a regular civilian disconnected from jujutsu would have a better time understanding her intentions than a sorcerer from the higher ranked clans. But she couldn’t stoop that low to find someone else to marry. It would further tarnish her already soiled reputation to be married to some unregarded sorcerer.

“Considering the circumstances,” on which Maki would rather not expand on, “you were the best candidate to marry.”

“Me?” Your laughter is sardonic. “Yeah, I doubt that. Even in my clan there were better people for you to choose. My cousin Nobuhisa has been looking for a wife.” Maki remembers the name. He’d been one of the men Hoga-sama had dangled over her head, just out of reach. Sighing about how “he would if he could” but, of course, Hoga Nobuhisa wouldn’t be satisfied with marrying someone like Maki, Zenin or not.

“Do you even want to carry a child?” The question brings Maki up short. Truthfully, she’s never really given the thought much consideration outside of knowing that if she did have a child, she’d raise them with all the love she and Mei lacked in their childhood. The actual who or how was a more abstract thought. Adoption wasn’t viable because techniques were passed through blood and by the time a child comes into their technique they’re old enough to be starting kindergarten. Adopting a toddler solely for their power rather than because she truly wanted to raise them would cheapen the idea of welcoming them into her family. She didn’t want her child thinking they were only good for their power because isn’t that what led to her miserable childhood to begin with?

“See,” you say before Maki can finish untangling the knot you’ve set before her with all your questions. “You don’t even want to have a kid. Or, at least, you don’t want to carry it. Let me do it. No concubines, no other men. We can do IVF. Get a donation from someone you’ve approved. I don’t mind being pregnant but I do mind the idea of my wife having that kind of contact with anyone else. Man or otherwise. I don’t care how much of a transaction this marriage is. If you cheat on me I’ll have your head.” You’ve started pacing in your anger and Maki chances angering you further as she reaches out to grab your wrist.

Her grip is steady yet breakable. If you want to pull away from her, she’ll let you go. But instead of snatching your hand away you allow her to sit you down on the futon beside her. After a while of tense silence you begin to laugh. At first it’s so quiet that Maki mistakes it for a noise outside the window until your shoulders begin to shake, knocking into her as you double over with peals of ringing laughter. After a moment you can’t hold your posture straight and you fall to your back, rolling in the silk sheets before finally catching your breath with tears sparkling at the edge of your eyes.

Through gasping breaths you say, “Today has been a disaster, hasn’t it?” It has and Maki finds a muted smile working its way over her face, a few chuckles huffing through her nose as she nods.

“Yeah, I don’t think we could’ve started this off any worse if we tried.” Perhaps she holds part of the blame for making no attempt to speak to you in the month that elapsed between her meeting with Hoga-sama and this morning, but some deep, secluded part of Maki had been afraid to speak to you. To disappoint one more person just be simply existing in their proximity. How many times had she undermined someone’s grand expectations of what a Zenin should be? But hadn’t you seemed happy to see that she was a woman? In the rose gold sunset she’d watched the anger bleed from your face as she declared herself to be your betrothed.

In that moment you hadn’t been worried about her level of cursed energy or the fact that she was useless as a sorcerer without her glass. You were happy it was her. It erases some of her worries for the future. Worries about children and retaining control of her clan. The world melts away to nothing besides these four walls and the sound of your laughter. Maki could live this life that she’s doomed herself to as long as you’re in it. She tries not to dwell on how strange it is for a stranger to be her only comfort but she hopes that she’s giving you some quiet bit of strength as well. When she looks down she notices how close your hands are, fingers nearly touching. Maki shifts her hand until she can feel your skin brushing against hers. You move in kind until your pinkies are twined together. It feels like a promise with no words spoken. She stares at your conjoined fingers for a moment longer before speaking, her voice sounding soft and far off as the words slip out unbidden.

“You have no idea who you married, do you?” Her question seems to startle you for a moment, your eyes going wide before settling into a narrowed skepticism.

“I suppose not. I didn’t know your given name until someone else said it.” When the priest conducting the ceremony had invoked each of you by name he’d simply called Maki “Zenin” and you “Hoga”. Not bothering with the informality of a given name. Consequently, it had been Yuta’s greeting that introduced her to you by name. She’s been a laughably poor wife thus far but Maki is intent on setting right her wrongs by laying out all her cards for you to see. She explains her precarious position of clan head that she usurped from Naoya’s designated heir, her lack of cursed energy and reliance on cursed weapons. She tells you everything and you listen. Never once pulling your hand away from hers. She tells you about Mei and how they were raised as runts of the litter, disgraces to the Zenin bloodline. She even mentions Toji and how everyone seems to think Maki is the sorcerer killer reborn. A weak Zenin intent on going against the world order established by the elite of jujutsu society.

“That’s who you married.” She tells you. You laugh and for a moment Maki fears that she’s tilted her hand too far and made a fool of herself. Except she can still feel the soft warmth of your finger curled over hers.

“That old man has always been a self-serving idiot. The reason he offered me to marry you is because I’ve been staunchly against marrying any man with sorcerer’s blood. He probably thought himself a genius marrying us, but he’s only granted my greatest wish. I don’t care who you are, I’m glad it was you I had to marry. You’re intimidating, and a stranger, but I don’t think I’ll mind being married to you.” She’s glad because Maki knows she’ll never have the right to regret marrying you. She made this choice for both of you, a binding vow tying your life to hers, and she’s almost surprised you don’t show any signs of resentment for what she’s done to you. But then she considers how she grew up and decides you might’ve needed this as much as she did.

An out, a way to get away from your overbearing clan. Away from men like Hoga-sama. Maki knows implicitly that life won’t be simple or easy for the two of you even if she’s crossed one hurdle regarding her stability as clan head. You’re still two women married in a world ruled by men. It’ll take more than a wedding or an heir to reshape this crooked jujutsu world, but Maki is glad she’s found a worthy partner for the rough journey ahead.

#maki ★#maki x reader #jjk x reader #★ mine!

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