8 yRevised Version
Eight years later
"Mom! Mom! Look at what I found!"
Yuka's voice preceded her. She burst through the door, her long black hair a mess from the wind.
"And what did you find, Yuka?" their mother called from the kitchen, the sound of rhythmic chopping filling the house.
Yuka held up a small gemstone, an indigo shard that caught the light like trapped seawater. "It's beautiful, honey. Where was it?"
"I was playing by the river and saw something sparkling. I had to dig for it."
"That's wonderful. Why don't you show your brother?"
"Hisagi! Where are you?"
A small, boyish figure stepped through the back door. Deep blue hair framed a pale, youthful face that usually held a gaze far too steady for an eight-year-old.
"I'm here, sister."
"Check this out," she said, shoving the gem toward his nose.
Hisagi paused, admiring the depth of the blue. "That's awesome. Down by the river? Near old man Fujiwara's place?"
She beamed, chest puffed out in pride. Hisagi reached up, his hand finding the top of her head for a playful pat.
"Stop that!" she laughed, batting him away. "I'm the older sister, remember? I'm the one who gives the head pats."
He chuckled softly. Watching her grow was a strange experience. In some ways, she remained a constant—a source of light that never flickered.
"Lunch is ready, kids. Your father will be back any minute," their mother called.
They gathered around the low table, the scent of roasted sweet potatoes filling the small room. The meal was simple, but after a previous life of liquid diets and hospital mash, it was the finest food Hisagi had ever tasted.
"Thanks, Mom!" he said, his mouth already half-full.
"Slow down, my love. Save some for your father."
He hummed a response, focused entirely on the sweetness of the potato. The front door creaked, and the heavy, familiar gait of his father echoed against the wood.
"Hi, Dad! How was work?"
"Don't talk with your mouth full, son," Aizawa Akira said, though his eyes crinkled with affection. He'd grown used to Hisagi's unusual, inquisitive nature. "Work was the same. Just some repairs for one of those Zenin clan nobles."
Hisagi's ears perked up. The name Zenin felt like a cold splash of water. He was all too familiar with it; Jujutsu Kaisen had been one of the last stories he'd finished before his first life ended. It was no coincidence that names like Gojo, Zenin, and Kamo appeared in the local gossip.
At first, he'd cursed his luck. Of all the worlds to inhabit, he'd landed in one of the most brutal—and worse, he was in the Heian period. This was the era of monsters, a time when the most powerful and sadistic sorcerers to ever live roamed the provinces.
But as his parents joined them at the table, the tension in his shoulders faded. He didn't care about defeating Sukuna or rising through the ranks of sorcery. He had a family. That was the only miracle he needed.
That evening, Yuka sought him out. She sat beside him on the floor, a rare, shy blush coloring her cheeks.
"I made you something. Give me your hand."
Hisagi complied, eyebrows raised. She slipped a bead bracelet onto his wrist. In the center sat the indigo stone she'd found that morning, polished and tied with care.
"Thank you, Yuka. But... this was your favorite stone."
"I liked the color," she murmured, not looking at him. "But I love you more. Look, we have matching ones." She held up her own wrist. "This way, I'm always with you."
Hisagi felt a pang in his chest. He marveled at her duality—one second a whirlwind of energy, the next a trembling mess of sincerity. He leaned in and pulled her into a hug. She squeezed back, her small arms tightening around him as if she'd never let go.
Later, as their mother tucked them in, Hisagi settled into the familiar softness of his pillow. He sighed, the stiff futon beneath him feeling like the safest place in the world. He closed his eyes, drifting off to the rhythm of his family's breathing.
AN: Hey guys, hope you're enjoying the story so far. I've been wanting to write something JJK related for a while. Please like and review if you're enjoying the story :). Feedback is always appreciated