Sea of feelings

It had been three months since Yuta joined the school, and life at Tokyo Jujutsu High had settled into a new normal. Well, as normal as life could be when you were training to fight curses and exorcise demons.

On this particular day, Yuta and Maki were sparring in the training ground, their bamboo swords clacking together in a fierce rhythm. Off to the side, Hiro lounged on the grass, sipping a drink and watching the match through his sunglasses. He'd decided to take the day off from training, opting instead to observe Maki's form.

And if he happened to appreciate the way her workout clothes clung to her curves, well... that was just a bonus.

Beside him, Panda and Inumaki were also taking a break, sprawled out in the shade of a large tree.

"Maki seems more lively lately," Panda remarked, nodding towards the sparring pair. "I think having a new training partner has been good for her."

Inumaki hummed in agreement. "Salmon," he said sagely.

Hiro scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. "Using weapons is for the weak," he said, trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy in his gut as he watched Maki and Yuta move in perfect sync.

Suddenly, Panda sat bolt upright, as if struck by divine inspiration. "YUTA!" he bellowed, waving his paw frantically. "Come here, now!"

Yuta and Maki paused mid-strike, turning to look at Panda with matching expressions of confusion. Yuta jogged over, his brow furrowed.

"What's up, Panda?" he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Panda slung an arm around Yuta's shoulders, pulling him close. "Tell me, Yuta," he said, his voice dripping with mischief. "Do you prefer girls with big chests or small chests?"

Yuta turned beet red, sputtering incoherently. "W-what? I... I mean, I don't really... but... I guess... big?"

Panda nodded sagely, a grin spreading across his furry face. He turned towards Maki, cupping his paws around his mouth.

"Hey, Maki!" he yelled. "You've got a chance!"

Maki, who had been watching the exchange with growing suspicion, froze. Her face flushed a dangerous shade of crimson.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, her grip tightening on her bamboo sword.

Panda just grinned wider, making a heart shape with his paws. "Don't be shy, Maki! Embrace your feelings!"

Hiro, who had been watching the scene unfold with growing irritation, sat up abruptly. He glared at Panda, his sunglasses slipping down his nose.

"Oi, you shitty stuffed animal," he growled. "What are you implying?"

But Panda ignored him, too caught up in his own matchmaking schemes. He kept making kissy faces at Maki, who looked like she was seconds away from committing panda-cide.

Hiro's eye twitched. He jumped to his feet, his drink forgotten.

"Hey, don't ignore me, you mangy quadruped!"

Panda finally turned to look at him, his head tilted in mock innocence. "What's the matter, Hiro? Feeling left out? Don't worry, I'm sure we can find a nice girl for you too. Maybe one with a thing for egotistical pretty boys."

Hiro spluttered, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled Maki's. "That's not... I don't... shut up!"

Inumaki, who had been watching the chaos with quiet amusement, chose that moment to chime in. "Bonito flakes," he said, nodding towards Maki and Yuta.

Hiro whirled on him, his fists clenched. "What's that supposed to mean, sushi breath?"

Inumaki just shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Kelp," he said simply.

Hiro threw his hands up in exasperation. "Does anyone here speak in complete sentences anymore?"

Meanwhile, Maki had advanced on Panda, her bamboo sword raised threateningly. "I'm going to turn you into a rug," she hissed, her eyes flashing.

Panda yelped, ducking behind Yuta. "Save me, Yuta! Your girlfriend is scary!"

"She's not my girlfriend!" Yuta cried, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

Hiro, hearing this, felt a strange mix of relief and annoyance. On one hand, he was glad Maki and Yuta weren't actually an item. On the other... why did he care so much?

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This was ridiculous. He was Hiro Miller, the smoothest operator in Tokyo. He didn't get jealous, and he definitely didn't get flustered over some stupid panda's teasing.

But as he watched Maki chase Panda around the training ground, her face flushed and her hair flying, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through his chest. The way his heart seemed to skip a beat every time she glanced his way.

Damn it. When had this happened? When had Maki Zenin gone from being just another conquest to... to what? A friend? Something more?

Hiro didn't know. And frankly, it scared the hell out of him.

He was used to being in control, to playing the game and always coming out on top. But with Maki... he felt off-balance. Uncertain.

Like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from falling into unknown depths.

It was thrilling. It was terrifying.

It was...

"Hiro, watch out!"

Hiro snapped out of his reverie just in time to see Panda barreling towards him, Maki hot on his heels. He tried to dodge, but he was too slow.

Panda crashed into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and curse words. Maki, unable to stop her momentum, tripped over them, landing on top of the pile with a yelp.

For a moment, they all just lay there, groaning and trying to catch their breath. Then Maki lifted her head, her face mere inches from Hiro's.

Time seemed to stop. Hiro stared up at her, taking in the flush of her cheeks, the wild tangle of her hair, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed.

She was beautiful. She was fierce. She was...

"Get off me, you idiots," Maki grumbled, ruining the moment.

Hiro blinked, his brain kickstarting back into gear. He grinned up at her, falling back on his usual bravado.

"Aw, come on, Zenin. You know you like being on top of me."

Maki's eyes narrowed. She dug her elbow into his ribs, making him wheeze.

"In your dreams, Miller."

She clambered to her feet, dusting herself off. Hiro sat up, rubbing his chest.

Panda, who had somehow managed to extricate himself from the chaos, was grinning from ear to ear.

"Ah, young love," he sighed, clasping his paws together. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Shut up, Panda," Maki and Hiro said in unison.

They glanced at each other, surprised. Then, slowly, they started to laugh.

It was a small thing, a fleeting moment of shared amusement. But as Hiro looked at Maki, saw the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, the way her smile made his heart stutter...

He thought that maybe, just maybe, falling wouldn't be so bad.

If she was there to catch him.

A few minutes later, Hiro strolled into the common room, his mind wandering to the mission he'd sent Inumaki and Yuta on earlier. "I hope they're doing okay," he mused to himself.

He plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV. He was just settling in when a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

"Hey, I was going to watch something."

Hiro glanced over to see Maki standing beside the couch, her arms crossed and her eyebrow raised.

He grinned, waving the remote tauntingly. "Too bad, Zenin. I've already claimed the TV."

Maki rolled her eyes, but sat down next to him anyway. "You never watch TV," she pointed out.

Hiro shrugged, trying to ignore the way his heart rate picked up at her proximity. "I know, but..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Maki snatched the remote out of his hand. With a few deft clicks, she changed the channel to her favorite program.

Hiro sighed, but didn't protest. Instead, feeling bold, he leaned over and rested his head on Maki's shoulder.

Instantly, Maki reached up and pinched his ear, twisting it painfully. Hiro yelped, jerking away.

"Ow! What was that for?"

Maki gave him a flat look. "Personal space, Miller. Learn it, live it, love it."

Hiro pouted, rubbing his sore ear. "You're so cruel to me, Zenin. And after I so generously let you have the TV, too."

"You didn't let me have anything. I took it."

"Details, details."

They lapsed into silence, the sound of the TV filling the room. But Hiro found he couldn't focus on the show. He was too aware of Maki beside him, of the warmth of her body, the scent of her shampoo.

It was driving him crazy.

He fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position. His leg brushed against Maki's, and he froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Maki didn't seem to notice, her eyes glued to the screen. Hiro forced himself to relax, to breathe normally.

This was ridiculous. He was acting like a lovesick teenager, getting all worked up over an accidental touch. He needed to get a grip.

But as the show went on, Hiro found his gaze drifting more and more to Maki. The way the light from the TV played over her features, the tiny smile that tugged at her lips when something amusing happened on screen.

She was so beautiful. And so completely out of his league.

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut. Hiro had never considered himself unworthy of anyone's affections before. He was Hiro Miller, the most eligible bachelor in Tokyo. Girls fell over themselves for a chance with him.

But Maki... Maki was different. She was strong, and fierce, and uncompromising. She saw through his bullshit, called him out on his crap. She challenged him, pushed him, made him want to be better.

She was everything he'd never known he needed. And the idea that she might not want him back...

It hurt. More than Hiro cared to admit.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the show had ended until Maki spoke.

"Well, that was a waste of time," she said, stretching her arms above her head. "I can't believe they killed off the best character."

Hiro blinked, trying to remember what show they'd even been watching. "Uh, yeah. Total bummer."

Maki gave him a strange look. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Hiro grinned sheepishly. "Not a clue."

Maki shook her head, but Hiro could see the hint of a smile playing around her lips. "Why do I even bother with you, Miller?"

"Because I'm charming and irresistible?"

"More like annoying and unavoidable."

But there was no real heat in her words, and when she stood up, she offered him a hand.

Hiro stared at it for a moment, surprised. Then, slowly, he reached out and took it, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

Her hand was warm and calloused, her grip strong. Hiro found himself reluctant to let go.

But he did, shoving his hands in his pockets and hoping Maki couldn't hear the pounding of his heart.

"Thanks," he said, his voice coming out a little rougher than usual.

Maki just shrugged, already heading for the door. "Don't mention it."

She paused at the threshold, glancing back at him over her shoulder. "Hey, Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, just ask if you want to watch something with me. You don't have to make a big production out of it."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Hiro staring after her, his mouth hanging open.

Did... did Maki Zenin just invite him to hang out with her again?

Hiro felt a grin spreading across his face, wide and foolish and entirely too giddy.

Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance after all.

He whistled as he left the common room, his step lighter than it had been in weeks.

Maki Zenin. Beautiful, fierce, amazing Maki Zenin.

He was going to win her over, one TV show at a time.

And if that meant subjecting himself to her terrible taste in programming...

Well, that was a sacrifice Hiro was more than willing to make.

Anything for her.

Anything for a chance at something real.

Hiro was a man on a mission. He'd never been one to shy away from a challenge, and right now, the biggest challenge of his life was staring him right in the face.

His feelings for Maki.

He was done running from them, done pretending they didn't exist. He was Hiro Miller, damn it. The bravest, most fearless sorcerer in Tokyo.

And it was time to prove it.

He caught up to Maki in the courtyard, the setting sun painting everything in shades of gold and orange. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her eyebrows raising in question.

"Miller? What do you want?"

Hiro took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. "I need to talk to you."

Maki crossed her arms, looking unimpressed. "So talk."

"I... I can't do this anymore, Maki. I'm done."

Maki's brow furrowed. "Done with what? What are you talking about?"

Hiro ran a hand through his hair, frustration welling up in his chest. Why was this so hard? He'd never had trouble expressing himself before.

But then, he'd never felt like this before, either.

"I'm talking about... about how I feel. About you."

Maki's eyes widened. For a moment, she looked genuinely shocked. Then her expression shuttered, becoming carefully neutral.

"And how exactly do you feel, Miller?"

Hiro stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He reached out, taking Maki's hand in his.

She stiffened, but didn't pull away. Hiro took that as a good sign.

"Maki, I... I think I'm falling for you. No, scratch that. I know I am. I have been, for a while now."

Maki's lips parted, but no sound came out. She just stared at him, her eyes searching his face.

Hiro swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his ears. This was it. The moment of truth.

Slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, he tugged her closer. His free hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin.

"Tell me you don't feel it too," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "Tell me I'm alone in this, and I'll walk away. I'll never bring it up again."

For a long, terrifying moment, Maki didn't move. She just stood there, frozen, her eyes locked on his.

Then, slowly, she leaned in.

Hiro's heart soared. He met her halfway, their lips coming together in a kiss that sent sparks shooting down his spine.

He'd kissed a lot of girls in his life. Stolen a lot of moments in dark corners and empty classrooms. But none of them, not a single one, compared to this.

Kissing Maki was like coming home. Like finding a piece of himself he hadn't even known was missing.

For a glorious, shining moment, she kissed him back. Her lips moved against his, soft and warm and perfect. Her hand came up to cradle his face, her fingers brushing through his hair.

Hiro thought he might die from happiness.

But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

Maki's hands moved to his chest, and she shoved. Hard.

Caught off guard, Hiro stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his ass in the dirt.

He blinked up at Maki, confusion and hurt warring in his chest. "What the hell, Zenin?"

Maki glared down at him, her chest heaving, her lips swollen from his kiss. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, Miller?"

Hiro stared at her, his mind reeling. He'd thought... but she'd kissed him back, hadn't she?

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his pants. He forced a grin, trying to salvage some of his dignity.

"Just wanted to confirm something," he said, aiming for nonchalance and missing by a mile.

Maki's eyes narrowed. "Confirm what, exactly?"

Hiro shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "That you feel it too. This... thing between us."

For a moment, something flickered in Maki's eyes. Something soft and uncertain and maybe, just maybe, a little bit hopeful.

But then it was gone, replaced by cold fury.

"There is no 'thing' between us, Miller," she snapped, her voice like ice. "Get that through your thick skull."

She turned on her heel, stalking away across the courtyard. Hiro watched her go, his heart sinking into his stomach.

He'd really thought... but no. He'd been wrong. Again.

Story of his fucking life.

With a sigh, Hiro turned and headed back inside. He needed a drink. Or ten.

Anything to wash away the taste of Maki's lips, the feel of her skin under his fingers.

Anything to make him forget, just for a little while, how much he'd wanted it to be real.

But even as he walked away, he couldn't quite shake the memory of that moment. That one, perfect moment when Maki had kissed him back.

It had been real. He knew it had. He'd felt it, down to his bones.

Hiro stood in the classroom, looking every bit the dashing young sorcerer. His black pants were crisp, his shoes polished to a shine. The white shirt he wore clung to his athletic frame, hinting at the muscle beneath. His normally artfully tousled blond hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes blazed with irritation as he glanced to the side.

There, Panda was dressed in a ridiculous crab costume, while Inumaki sported an equally absurd broccoli suit. Gojo, hanging from the ceiling with a camera, looked far too pleased with himself.

"This is the stupidest plan yet," Hiro grumbled, crossing his arms.

Panda waved a claw dismissively. "Just trust me, Hiro. This is going to work."

From his position in the weapons depot, Yuta's voice crackled over the radio. "Are you sure about this, Panda?"

Panda nodded confidently. "Absolutely. Gojo, you ready?"

Gojo grinned, giving a thumbs up. "This is going to be hilarious."

Just then, the classroom door slid open and Maki stepped in. She took one look at the bizarre scene before her and froze, her eyebrows climbing towards her hairline.

"What the actual fuck is going on here?" she demanded.

Panda nudged Hiro with an elbow. "Go on, do the flip," he hissed.

Hiro sighed, resigning himself to his fate. But before he could make a move, the door opened again and Principal Yaga walked in, his expression uncharacteristically somber.

"Hiro," he said gravely, "I need to speak with you in the hallway."

Hiro blinked, taken aback. Then, seeing a potential escape, he jumped on it. "Hey, it was Gojo's idea to hide your sunglasses, not mine!"

Yaga frowned, momentarily sidetracked. "Wait, what? No, that's not what this is about, Hiro."

Sensing the seriousness of the situation, Hiro followed Yaga out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Immediately, Panda, Inumaki, and Gojo crowded around, pressing their ears to the wood to eavesdrop.

In the hallway, Yaga placed a heavy hand on Hiro's shoulder. The old man's eyes were sad, his voice gentle as he spoke.

"I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you this, Hiro. But your father... he passed away."

Hiro felt the world tilt beneath his feet. His breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in his chest.

"What?" he whispered, his voice sounding distant and strange to his own ears.

Yaga sighed, the weight of his years seeming to settle on his shoulders. "A special grade curse in New York. He was on a mission, and... I'm so sorry, Hiro. Your uncle is on his way here now to give you the details."

Hiro didn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything over the rushing in his ears, the sudden, yawning emptiness that had opened up in his chest.

His father. His strong, brave, unshakable father. Gone. Just like that.

It didn't seem real. It couldn't be real. This had to be a joke, a misunderstanding. Any second now, his dad would come striding around the corner, laughing at the look on Hiro's face.

But the seconds ticked by, and no one came. Just Yaga, with his somber eyes and his heavy hand on Hiro's shoulder.

Dimly, as if from a great distance, Hiro heard the sound of the classroom door sliding open. Heard Maki's sharp intake of breath, Panda's muffled curse.

"Hiro?" Maki's voice, uncharacteristically soft. "What's going on?"

Hiro couldn't answer. The words were stuck in his throat, choking him. He shook his head, a sharp, jerky motion.

Yaga stepped in, his voice low and sad as he explained the situation. Hiro didn't listen. He couldn't. If he listened, if he let the words sink in, it would make it real.

And he couldn't... he wasn't ready for it to be real.

Distantly, he was aware of Gojo dropping down from the ceiling, of Yuta rushing in from the weapons depot. They crowded around him, their faces a blur of shock and sympathy.

But Hiro couldn't look at them. Couldn't bear to see the pity in their eyes.

He needed to move. Needed to run, to fight, to do something. Anything but stand here, drowning in this sudden, overwhelming grief.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and walked away. Down the hall, out the doors, into the bright, cruel sunlight.

He didn't know where he was going. Didn't care. He just needed to be away, to be alone.

Behind him, he heard Maki calling his name. Heard Panda and Yuta, their voices raised in concern.

But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

If he stopped, it would catch up to him. The reality of it. The finality.

So he kept walking, kept moving, even as his vision blurred and his breath came in ragged gasps.

His father. His hero. The man who had taught him everything, who had loved him even at his worst.

Gone.

It was too big, too much. Hiro felt like he was going to shatter under the weight of it, like he was going to fly apart into a million pieces.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was Hiro Miller, damn it. The strongest sorcerer of his generation. The cocky, unshakable playboy.

He couldn't fall apart. Not here, not now. Not ever.

So he locked it away. Shoved the grief and the pain and the overwhelming sense of loss into a box and slammed the lid shut.

He couldn't deal with it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But he could keep moving. Keep fighting. Keep being Hiro Miller, even if it felt like a lie, even if it felt like he was walking around with a gaping hole in his chest.

Because what else could he do?

What else did he have left?

So he walked. And he kept walking, even as the sun began to set and the shadows lengthened around him.

Even as the first, hot tears began to slip down his cheeks, silent and unstoppable.

He walked, and he didn't look back.

Because looking back meant facing it.

And Hiro wasn't ready for that.

He wasn't sure he'd ever be ready for that.

But he kept walking anyway.

One foot in front of the other.

Moving forward.

Even if it felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind with every step.

Hiro stood in the middle of a field, his fists clenched, his body shaking with barely contained rage. The sky above him was dark, heavy with clouds, as if the very heavens were mourning with him.

Suddenly, with a roar of fury and anguish, Hiro thrust his hands upward. Lightning erupted from his palms, jagged bolts of blue-white energy that tore through the air, illuminating the night in a flash of blinding light.

Again and again, he let loose, pouring all his pain, all his grief, all his helpless anger into the sky. The thunder crashed around him, drowning out the sound of his own screams.

He didn't know how long he stood there, raging against the storm. Time had lost all meaning, swallowed up in the maelstrom of his emotions.

But eventually, the lightning began to flicker, his energy waning. Hiro lowered his arms, his chest heaving, his face streaked with sweat and tears.

"Hiro."

He stiffened at the sound of his name, at the familiar voice behind him. He didn't turn around, didn't want her to see him like this.

"Go away, Maki," he said, his voice raw and ragged.

But Maki had never been one to do as she was told. He heard her footsteps, soft on the grass, drawing closer.

"I said go away," he repeated, louder this time. "I don't want you here."

Maki stopped, just a few feet behind him. "Too bad," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "I'm not leaving."

Hiro laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "Why? Come to gawk at the grieving son? Come to offer your condolences?"

He spat the last word like a curse, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

There was a long moment of silence. Then, softly: "I came because I'm worried about you, you idiot."

Hiro's breath caught in his throat. He blinked hard, sudden tears stinging his eyes.

"Well, don't be," he managed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I'm fine. I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, Hiro. It's..."

Maki trailed off, and Hiro could practically hear her struggling for the right words. Emotions had never been her strong suit.

"It's what?" he prompted, a hint of his old snark creeping into his tone. "Spit it out, Zenin."

Maki sighed, and he could picture her rolling her eyes. "It's caring, you absolute moron. I care about you. We all do."

Hiro's heart clenched, a fresh wave of pain washing over him. He shook his head, even though she couldn't see.

"You shouldn't," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Caring about me... it's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because..." Hiro swallowed hard, the words like razors in his throat. "Because people who care about me end up getting hurt. Or worse."

Like his father. His brave, strong, loving father, who had always been there, always been his rock.

Gone, in an instant. Because of him. Because he was Hiro Miller, the sorcerer, the lightning rod for trouble.

"That's bullshit," Maki said bluntly, her voice cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "What happened to your dad... it wasn't your fault, Hiro."

Hiro let out a choked laugh. "Wasn't it? He was out there because of me, Maki. Because I'm his son, because I'm a sorcerer. If it wasn't for me..."

"If it wasn't for you, he'd still be risking his life. Because that's what sorcerers do. That's who he was."

Maki's voice was fierce, unyielding. Hiro could feel the conviction in it, the unwavering belief.

"Your father loved you, Hiro. And he was proud of you. Proud of the sorcerer you are, of the man you're becoming."

The man you're becoming. The words hit Hiro like a punch to the gut. What kind of man was he becoming? The kind who pushed everyone away, who lashed out in anger and pain?

The kind who couldn't even face his own grief?

Slowly, feeling like every movement took a herculean effort, Hiro turned around.

Maki was standing there, her arms crossed, her face set in its usual stern lines. But her eyes... her eyes were soft, filled with a warmth and understanding that made Hiro's breath catch.

"Maki," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I... I don't know what to do."

It was the hardest thing he'd ever said, the most vulnerable he'd ever let himself be. But standing there, under the weight of Maki's gaze, he couldn't find the strength to keep up the facade.

Maki stepped forward, closing the distance between them. For a moment, she just looked at him, her eyes searching his.

Then, slowly, as if giving him time to pull away, she reached out and pulled him into a hug.

Hiro stiffened, shocked. Maki wasn't a hugger. Maki barely tolerated physical contact on a good day.

But here she was, her arms around him, her cheek pressed against his chest. Holding him like she'd never let go.

And Hiro... Hiro felt something inside him break. The box he'd shoved all his emotions into, the walls he'd built up around his heart...

They crumbled, shattered, dissolved into dust.

And suddenly, he was crying. Great, heaving sobs that tore from his throat, that shook his whole body. He clung to Maki like a drowning man, his face buried in her hair, his tears soaking her shirt.

And Maki... Maki just held him. Held him as he fell apart, as he let out all the pain and the grief and the rage.

She didn't say anything. Didn't offer any platitudes or empty comforts.

She was just there. Solid and warm and real, an anchor in the storm of his emotions.

And for the first time since he'd heard the news, Hiro felt like maybe, just maybe...

He wasn't alone.

The sound of a car pulling up made them both look up. Hiro hastily wiped at his face, trying to compose himself.

From the sleek black vehicle that had just parked at the edge of the field, a man emerged. He was tall and blond, his hair perfectly coiffed, his suit impeccably tailored.

Hiro recognized him instantly. His uncle, his father's brother.

The man who was now his only living family.

Hiro straightened up, stepping out of Maki's embrace. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders.

His uncle approached, his face grave, his eyes - so like Hiro's father's - filled with a deep, aching sadness.

Hiro's uncle stood before them, his posture rigid, his face an impassive mask. Despite the gravity of the situation, there was no warmth in his eyes, no comfort in his demeanor. He was the very image of cold, calculated control.

"Hiro," he said, his voice clipped and businesslike. "We need to talk."

Hiro stiffened, a sense of foreboding washing over him. He knew that tone, knew the look in his uncle's eyes. This wasn't a condolence call. This was something else.

"About what?" he asked warily, feeling Maki tense beside him.

His uncle's gaze flicked to Maki, then back to Hiro. "Alone," he said pointedly.

Hiro's jaw clenched. "Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Maki."

For a moment, his uncle looked like he might argue. But then he sighed, a short, sharp exhalation of breath.

"Very well. Hiro, you need to come back to New York with me. Immediately."

Hiro blinked, taken aback. "What? Why?"

"Because," his uncle said, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone, "your father's death has left a void. A void that needs to be filled."

Hiro's heart sank, a cold realization settling in his gut. "You mean..."

"Yes," his uncle confirmed. "Without your father, New York is vulnerable. The community there, they need a leader. They need you."

Hiro shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "So that's what this is about. Not my father's death, not my grief. But your fucking politics."

His uncle's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone, boy. This is bigger than your personal feelings. This is about duty, about responsibility."

"Bullshit," Hiro spat. "This is about you, about your agenda. You never cared about my dad, never cared about me. We were just tools to you, pieces in your game."

Beside him, Maki stepped forward, her eyes flashing with anger. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice like ice.

Hiro glanced at her, a rush of gratitude and affection washing over him. "Maki, this is my uncle. Momo's father, and one of the most influential figures in the American jujutsu community."

Maki's eyes widened slightly in recognition, but her stance didn't waver. If anything, she seemed to bristle even more, her body coiled with tension.

Hiro's uncle looked at her dismissively. "This doesn't concern you, girl. This is family business."

"Hiro is my business," Maki shot back without hesitation. "And if you think I'm going to stand by and let you bully him into leaving, you've got another thing coming."

For a moment, Hiro's uncle looked stunned. Then his face hardened, his eyes turning flinty.

"You don't understand the gravity of the situation," he said coldly. "Without Hiro, New York is at risk. Dangerous elements are already starting to make moves. People could get hurt."

Hiro felt a pang of guilt, a twist of doubt. Was he being selfish? Was he putting his own desires above the needs of innocents?

But then he thought of his father. His father, who had always encouraged him to follow his own path, to make his own choices.

His father, who despite not being a sorcerer himself, had always been involved, always been supportive.

"No," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I'm not going back. Not like this."

His uncle's face darkened, a vein pulsing in his temple. "Hiro, I'm not asking. I'm telling. You have a duty-"

"My duty," Hiro interrupted, "is to become the best person I can be. To carry on my father's legacy, to protect the people I care about. And I can't do that if I'm under your thumb."

"You insolent little..." his uncle seethed. Then, visibly reining himself in, he tried a different tack. "Hiro, please. Think about what you're doing. The community needs you. Your family needs you."

Hiro laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. "Family? What family? You? The cousins who only ever saw me as competition, as a threat to their own power?"

He paused, his expression softening slightly. "Momo is the only one who ever treated me like family. Like I mattered. And she's here, in Japan. Because you deemed her too weak, not good enough for your grand plans."

He shook his head. "No. My family is here, at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. My friends, my teachers... they're the ones who have been there for me, who have supported me."

He glanced at Maki, his heart swelling at the fierce pride in her eyes, the unwavering support in her stance.

"I'm staying," he said, turning back to his uncle. "And that's final."

For a long, tense moment, his uncle just stared at him. Hiro could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, the calculations being made.

Then, slowly, a cold smile spread across his face. It was a smile that sent chills down Hiro's spine, a smile that promised retribution.

"Very well," his uncle said, his voice deceptively calm. "If that's your decision, I suppose I have no choice but to accept it."

He turned, as if to walk away, then paused. "But mark my words, Hiro. You'll regret this. The clan has ways of dealing with insubordination. With betrayal."

Hiro's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

His uncle's smile widened. "Take it however you like. But remember, you're not the only one with power. And Gojo Satoru, as formidable as he is... he can't protect you forever."

At this, his gaze slid meaningfully to Maki. Hiro felt a surge of protective rage, his fists clenching at his sides.

"If you even think about touching her," he growled, "I'll-"

"You'll what?" his uncle interrupted, amused. "Fight me? Fight the clan? With what army?"

Hiro opened his mouth, then closed it again. As much as he hated to admit it, his uncle had a point. Hiro was strong, but he was just one man. Against the full might of the American jujutsu community...

But then Maki stepped forward, her hand coming to rest on Hiro's arm. "He's not alone," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "He has me. He has Gojo, and Yuta, and Panda and Inumaki. He has the whole damn school behind him."

She stared down Hiro's uncle, her eyes blazing with challenge. "So if you want to start a war, go ahead. But know that you'll be starting one with all of us."

For a moment, Hiro's uncle looked taken aback. Then his face twisted into a sneer.

"Big words," he scoffed. "But we'll see how long your little friends stick around when the pressure is on. When the real fighting starts."

He turned on his heel, striding back towards his car. "You've made your choice, Hiro. Now live with the consequences."

And with that, he was gone, the car peeling away in a spray of gravel and exhaust.

Hiro stood there, watching him go, a mix of emotions churning in his gut. Anger, fear, uncertainty...

But also, beneath it all, a flicker of something else. Something warm and steady and sure.

He glanced at Maki, at the fierce determination in her eyes, the unwavering support in her stance.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For... for everything."

Maki just shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "That's what friends are for, idiot."

Friends. The word sent a pang through Hiro's chest, bittersweet and aching.

But it was a good ache. A hopeful ache.

Because it meant he wasn't alone. It meant that, whatever came next, whatever battles he had to fight...

He wouldn't be fighting them alone.

He had Maki. He had his friends, his school.

He had a reason to stay, to stand his ground.

And that, he realized, was worth more than any clan, any legacy.

It was worth everything.