When Ema was five, she began seeing curses.
She would never forget the day—or how beautiful her mother's garden looked. A bright omen of something dark. Her brother had just been born, and her mother was preoccupied with breastfeeding and soothing him. The curse murmured its grief: loneliness, neglect, abandonment. It embodied exactly how she felt. In terror, she ran back inside, slicing her hand on the doorframe.
Yuina Himari was gentle, but fierce. When she saw Ema's tear-streaked face and the fear in her eyes, she immediately set the newborn in his crib and stormed outside, her daughter clinging to her side.
The curse gurgled, oblivious to the danger. Himari didn't hesitate—her hand flashed once, and the curse unraveled into nothingness.
Ema covered her mouth. "Is it dead?"
"As dead as a curse can be," Himari said. She grabbed Ema's hand and started leading her inside. Ema tried to pull away—she didn't want to get her mother's hand bloody—but realized, suddenly, the cut on her own hand had vanished.
"You can't ever tell anyone you see them," Himari said. "Walk past them like they're not there. If you notice one, tell me or your father. Never talk about it with anyone else. If people find out, you'll be taken away."
Ema's mouth formed an O.
"Do you understand?" her mother pressed.
She nodded. "Yes, Mommy."
"Good. There's a lot you'll need to learn. But first: no one can know. Not even your friends."
Himari picked up a now-crying Kaito and gently rocked him. When he settled, she added, "We have to protect each other, Ema. No one else will."
The fear of losing her family anchored the lesson deep. "Yes, Mommy."
"If you ever run into a curse again, run to me. Don't fight it. Not yet. When you're older, you'll be able to handle them. But for now, always come to me."
From that moment, her mother tucked her beneath her wing, teaching her to sense and control cursed energy. It came with rules—unbreakable ones—but those rules became a comfort. A boundary that defined her place in the world. Their town could never know what the Yuina family truly was.
To everyone else, Ema had to appear completely normal.
By age ten, her father returned home and took up local work. The income dropped, but their family bond only grew. Ema didn't mind the lack of luxury—they had each other.
Yuina Asahi was a tall man, from whom Ema inherited her height. But where she was lanky and awkward, he was built, sturdy, with mild features and steady eyes. He never raised his voice, and his hands—despite their size—were even gentler than Himari's.
She felt safe with him.
Even when he took her along to exorcise curses.
The house once belonged to an elderly couple—now both gone. The relatives wanted to sell the property, and Asahi volunteered to clean it for a small fee. The real reason, though, was to deal with the lingering curse spirits.
"Can you tell how I'm doing this?" he asked, calm and patient.
Ema looked at the curse in front of them. It was bound in a web of thin threads, all leading back to her father's hands. Cursed energy flowed from the curse to him like a siphon.
"It's like a spider web," she answered.
"Exactly," he grinned. "It's drained of energy now. Do you know how to finish it?"
"Mom said you have to use cursed energy to kill them."
"She's right. Do you know how?"
Ema looked unsure. "How?"
"There are different ways. You like anime, right?" He chuckled.
"Yeah."
"As long as you infuse your attack with cursed energy, it'll work. Your mom uses reversed cursed energy. I'm not as good at that, so I just use brute force. You can either punch it or project it—like a blast. Remember how your mom fights from a distance?"
Ema nodded and held her hand out. "So I can shoot it?"
"I always thought it looked more like Force powers," he joked.
Ema giggled. "Okay."
It felt strange, finishing something that was already bound. Like a lion cub practicing a hunt. Asahi stood close, his scythe ready if she failed—but he waited.
She pushed energy into her hand and released it. One pulse. The curse dissipated.
She expected to feel guilt. Instead, she felt relief. The oppressive air vanished, and the house felt peaceful again.
Her eyes lingered on her palm. Is this what I'm meant to do?
"It runs in our family," Asahi said softly. "Our bloodline's different—not flashy like the Zen'in or Gojo clans, but consistent. Sometimes subtle is better."
She looked up. "Who are they?"
"Not important. Stay out of their politics."
"We're protecting our town?"
"Exactly."
"But no one can know."
"Right."
"Why?"
His gaze darkened. She feared she'd upset him—but his voice was gentle. "Because we're different. And there are people in this world more dangerous than curses."
"Are there others like us?"
"Some. But don't trust them. Most sorcerers are tied to clans, schools, or the Jujutsu Headquarters. They don't like independents. And some are crueler than any curse."
"Okay…"
"There's more I want to show you. Like barrier techniques. Ever notice how no one outside noticed this house?"
"You made a barrier?"
"Yes. Instead of casting it around the whole house, I folded it inward to each room. Contained. Hidden. Most sorcerers waste energy making them huge."
"Makes sense."
He slung his scythe over his shoulder, the blade arcing behind him. A chill ran down her spine. His grin turned sly. "Kama's off-limits until you're older."
She blinked. "It's just a cursed tool, right?"
"Sure," he said, clearly amused. "Let's continue. There's more."
A couple? she thought. She felt three entities. Two clustered together. A third alone. None of them felt strong.
"There's three," she murmured.
His smile widened. "Correct."
They moved to the kitchen. A curse burst from the pantry, but Asahi trapped it with threads.
"How do you form the threads?" she asked.
"That's our next lesson."
He pressed a finger to her forehead, forming a thread. Then tapped his own. They were connected.
'Can you hear me?' His voice echoed in her mind.
'What the fuck—'
"Language," he laughed aloud.
'Is this telepathy?'
'Something like that. Communication through threads.'
'Can I do this?'
'With practice.'
'Can the threads also absorb or give energy?'
'Yes. Communication, energy transfer, restraint—it's all based on intent.'
'Can they break it?'
'If they're strong enough.'
'Can they drain us through it?'
'No. Not unless you let them.'
He was proud of her questions. She felt his joy through the link.
"The potaaaatoooes are baaaad," the curse moaned from the floor. "Baaaad…"
"Oh right, haunted house," Ema muttered.
Her father chuckled. "Try forming a thread. It's too weak to resist."
She focused and poked the curse. Threads formed.
"What now?"
He wrapped his hand over hers and guided the flow. Energy trickled from the curse into her. It wasn't much—but it sharpened her senses. She felt stronger.
"There are two more," he said. "Good practice."
They took care of them easily. She watched his footwork, his aura, how the threads snared silently. Each thread thinner than hair, yet impossibly strong. She imitated him with growing accuracy.
Once done, he lowered the barrier. Outside, they sat on a bench.
"Ema," he began, "things will probably go well if we keep watching each other's backs. But all it takes is one mistake. Don't ever underestimate a curse."
"I won't, Dad."
"Good girl."
Together, they kept their town clean. The only curses they ignored were ones outside the boundaries—abandoned shrines or forgotten roads.
With Asahi taking over Ema's practical training, Himari began guiding Kaito. While Asahi honed Ema's technique in the field, Himari taught Kaito to control his cursed energy at home.
They were a team.
Still, Ema lived a relatively normal life. She had friends. Played sports. Grew with the garden her mother loved. Money was tight, but the family was full of love. Himari called it boring sometimes. Asahi would always reply, "Boring's not so bad. There are worse things out there. You wouldn't have time for your garden otherwise."
Even if the garden helped feed them, Ema cherished it. Losing that was unthinkable.
By thirteen, she was quietly healing her brother's scrapes before their parents noticed. Kaito, wild and energetic, often hurt himself. He stayed away from curses, but he loved fire, blades, and climbing rooftops.
They managed—until their mother caught them in the act. She scolded them but didn't escalate it. That night, things felt normal… until they overheard their parents arguing.
Kaito curled up in Ema's room, trying to focus on his handheld game.
"She's talented, Himari," Asahi argued. "If she's already grasping reversed cursed energy, maybe she can get into Jujutsu High."
"No, Asahi. That life will kill her!"
"Not if she's a healer. Even they have to value that."
"Without a clan name? A sponsor? No chance."
"If they find out about us… what then?" Himari's voice cracked.
"Our kids deserve better."
"Let's not talk about this now. We've always protected each other."
"It's only a matter of time."
"I can't—Not now."
"But when?"
They never spoke of it again.
Life moved on. Ema played, studied, grew confident. Her body matured, her mind sharpened. Kaito made friends. Their mother worked part-time, their father labored day and night.
They didn't have much.
But they had each other.
And then—just as Asahi said—the past caught up with them.