| Silk Chiffon ~ MUNA, Phoebe Bridgers |

I know I should have wished Niji some luck before her dance practice. The poor thing must have been so anxious. Nevertheless, I was an asshole. And I don't like that very much.

It has been a bitch of a day!

The only good thing that came out of it was my watercolor painting. It surprised me because my rage has never resulted in something so beautiful. I was looking at it for several minutes before my phone buzzed and I knew who could make my day better.

But now, as I leave her room, I feel like a big, stinky, poop-lathered asshole. I could see it in her eyes that she knew something was wrong and that she'd do anything to make me feel better. God, she was willing to get punished for it!

I walk back to the studio I was working at to gather my stuff and find Megumi waiting in front of the painting.

"Is this Niji-san?" He asks.

"Yeah, it might be." I sigh. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw Jordan on the campus today. He was asking about you."

"I met him already."

"He apparently has been on the campus for the last few weeks," Megumi continues even though I just implied that I know this information already. "Do you know what he's looking for?"

"Us." I roll my unused sheets of paper and put them into tubes. Megumi's eyes are constantly on me as I move my canvas to a corner of the studio to work on it later. I have to satiate his hunger for information. "Naoya Zenin wants the two of us dead."

"So it clears his way to become the leader?"

"No shit, Sherlock!" I scoff at him. "The geriatrics of the clan don't mind you being the next leader. So you are literally in his way. And I am in everybody's way because of the promise I made when I was fourteen."

"I thought you were serious about that promise."

"I am. I will obliterate the Zenin clan from the face of the earth. And that includes you if you stand in my way."

Megumi awkwardly shifts behind a canvas. "Please be my guest. Be on your way right now if you must, Maki senpai."

"Hey! I told you to cut off the senpai. We're not in Jujutsu High anymore."

Megumi and I walk to a nearby shop we frequent for smokes and beer and I buy some meat buns for us. I check my phone as we stand in the shade and smoke. There are no new texts from Niji, even though I refresh our chat a few times. Maybe I should send an "all the best" text.

"You're so emotionally unavailable, it's cute," Megumi comments, and I feel like smacking the meat bun off his hand. I don't do that because I fucking bought it.

"Need some advice?" he asks again. "I'm the only one who has been in a successful relationship for the last three years."

"Between the two of us. Not in our group."

"The only other person is my boyfriend," he says, giggling. "Anyway, if you want to talk to her, you should just text her."

"I know how a conversation works, Fushiguro. I just... can't text because I'm supposed to be mad at her."

"But you're not."

"No," I mumble. I have no reason to be mad at her.

I was enraged at my family but through no fault of theirs. I shouldn't have expected anything better from them. I'm just having a hard time believing that the potential leader of the Zenin clan employed a non-curse user to do his dirty work for him.

Jordan is an individual just like me. With almost no cursed energy, no ability to even see curses but immense physical prowess. Like Megumi's father. Jordan was not sent to assassinate Megumi. He was sent for me. This only means that I'd have to look out for Megumi. A far superior enemy might come his way soon.

"So tell her that," Megumi presses.

"No can do." I stub the cigarette out in the ashtray beside us. "But thanks for the advice. I'll come to you when I'm conflicted between whether to buy her a romance novel or a scented candle for her birthday."

I turn to leave but Megumi's question stops me in my tracks. "Oh, when is her birthday?" he asks.

"I don't know that... yet. And in my defense, she doesn't know when my birthday is either."

Megumi clicks his tongue. "She does. She asked me."

"Why wouldn't she ask me?"

"Maybe she's planning on throwing you a surprise birthday party. I don't know."

"Megumi, my birthday is eight months away. We may not even be together in eight months."

"Oh, so you're planning on breaking up?" I can hear the smirk in his voice even though he's turned away from me now. "I could totally tell that from the painting you made of her."

"Okay, shut up! You're literally my nephew. What do you know? You're just a child."

With that, I set off toward my apartment. The audacity of that nugget of a boy is beyond imaginable. Accusing me of not knowing my girlfriend's birthday, questioning me about my feelings, and acting like he knows how things work just because he has been in a long-term relationship.

I drop my bag on the living room mattress and immediately start stretching. The only thing that can put me at ease now is a good sweat.

I train for the next couple of hours, my sweat dripping onto the mat underneath me. I do squats, pushups, and handstands and in the middle of it all, I realize I have no idea which area I'm targeting today. At least, I'm sweating and I'm sore. That's what counts.

Around six, my clients arrive. They sit down for the makeup and I start preparing the living room for the shoot. I put a backdrop of a white sheet that spills across the floor like a waterfall and hang fairy lights in front of it, as requested by them. The camera is set on the tripod and I focus on a wooden stool atop which the model is supposed to sit.

I dim the lights in the rest of the room and cast a bright ring light on the model's face and get to work. The camera hasn't felt like an extension of my eye for a really long time and tonight is no different. I know the pictures will turn out fine. They'd fetch recognition for my makeup artist friend and hundreds of likes for me and my model friend. But I can't wait for the shoot to be over and that never happened when Nobara posed for me.

It's past eight when we're done and my clients are more than happy with the pictures. They pay me and buy me dinner before leaving. And in return, I promise to mail them the pictures by tonight. A promise that every photographer makes.

I slurp up the ramen straight from the restaurant's container at the kitchen counter. I crack open a chilled beer can and run the pork down with it. My phone buzzes on the countertop as I let out the most unladylike burp. The dead elders of my clan must be rolling in their graves.

It's a message from my sister.

Mai: Jordan is on campus.

Maki: Well tried. Tell me something I actually don't know.

Mai: He's your girlfriend's dance instructor.

Fuck this shit!

I drop the chopsticks on the countertop and pick up my phone. My sister's dialer tone is Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding. She's so heterosexual, it's disgusting.

"What did you say?" I ask Mai before she can start speaking.

"Here, speak to her." She hands her phone to Niji.

Niji happens to be not as excited as either of us sisters. She's just... mildly shaken.

"Yeah, so what's up with... this Jordan?" I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"He... I think he was making advances at me. I could be wrong. But... but he looked at me in a certain way that made me feel really uncomfortable."

Classic Jordan! He's famous for mistreating women, especially non-shamans. No wonder my cousin got along so well with him.

"It is very unprofessional, Niji," I tell her over the phone. "You should complain about him."

"To whom? Akane sensei would never take me seriously. She doesn't even see me as a dancer. She doesn't want me in the club." Niji is almost screaming on the phone.

"Okay." I take my food to sit cross-legged on the mattress. "Let's start from the beginning. How was your first day at the club?"

"Awful!" She's screaming now.

Her mildly shaken has now transformed into strongly aggravated.

"What happened, Niji? Tell me everything."

She sighs. "You know how people say that you should never meet your idol? It's true. She's nothing like I imagined her to be."

"How did you imagine her to be, Niji?" I ask, hanging my noodles over the container.

Niji hesitates. "Nice, at least. Positive, encouraging. Maki-san, she literally flinched when I tried to get closer because I couldn't hear her."

"That's going too far. Maybe she doesn't like people standing too close to her?"

"Jordan sensei was standing close to her!"

I have nothing to say to that. I have no right to invalidate Niji's concerns.

She continues. "They want me to be a representative for the dance club. Apparently, it's because I have gained a lot of new followers on Instagram and Twitter after the performance at the Freshers'. And, Jordan sensei said that... ugh! He said that my charm is in being plus size. Maki-san, I wanted to throw myself at the mirror in the studio."

Her breath comes in hitches. I can tell she's sobbing and hear my sister's voice over the phone.

"Aww, you poor thing," Mai says, "come here. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

"No Mai-san, I have to get on this diet," Niji replies, sniffling.

"Diet starts tomorrow. Today, you get a hot chocolate."

I hear Mai's voice getting further away as she probably leaves Niji at a table in the dorm cafeteria. My ramen has gotten a lot colder now and I'm torn between downing it anyway and stacking it in the fridge for later.

"So, it's Mai-san now, huh?" I ask Niji.

"Well, she insisted."

I sigh. "So... so tell me... how that conversation went?"

"So, it started with Akane sensei telling me that inviting me was a group decision and that if it was up to her, she wouldn't have invited me to join the club. She talks about my 'social media websites'. She's such a boomer! And only Instagram occurs to me because I thought I deleted my Twitter account. But Mai-san made me download it again and people have found me there. I had a hundred and fifty followers before but now I have almost five thousand. Anyway... then, Jordan sensei comes in and tells me I'll be a good look for them and that he wants me to maintain my shape. So I've been asked to have a slice of chocolate cake almost every day of the week."

"What?" This is unbelievable. "Did they take into consideration if you have diabetes or if it runs in your family?"

"No, nothing about that."

"That's bullshit! What does the rest of the chart look like?"

"Oh my God, you're going to hate it," she says.

I kinda already know that. She has an eating disorder, to begin with. I can only imagine how much more damage a diet chart would do.

"It starts with 5 almonds and a cigarette as soon as I wake up, which is preferably six-thirty. Then at nine, I get to have my breakfast of toast and egg whites or a pudding with half a tablespoon of chia seeds and yogurt. I don't know how I'm supposed to make a chia seeds pudding in the middle of class. Then for lunch, at one o'clock, I'm supposed to have one rice pad of rice with steamed and salted chicken or fish. The only customization I'm allowed is adding black pepper. Then, at five, I can have a couple of crackers and another cigarette. And at eight, on four days out of seven, a slice of chocolate cake and a couple of cigarettes. Other days, I may have two dumplings with soup and cigarettes."

"There are a lot of cigarettes." That's the only remarkable thing about that diet chart.

"Yes, I can have more throughout the day. It's to curb any hunger," Niji informs.

Bitches and their sons need to have one-on-one time with me. I feel like stubbing some cigarettes on Jordan's wrists. That'd teach him to flirt with my girlfriend, to make her miserable.

"What do you want to do?" I ask.

"What's there to do? This is my only opportunity to show a Tokyo Ballet Academy alumni that I can be like her too. Maybe I'll have to pull it off in a different way. But I will pull it off."

Niji's enthusiasm puts a smile on my face. I drink the ramen soup from the container as she continues.

"So what if I have to go through a little bit of humiliation to get there? I..." She's sniffling again. "I knew it wouldn't be easy. I knew there would be backlash from either fellow dancers or the audience. And honestly, being loved by the audience and despised by your colleagues is something... very romantic. Dark, yes. But romantic."

"So... who's this new dancer that everyone's following but I'm not?" I ask after a pause. I've put the container and beer can in the trash and made my way to the bedroom.

Changing into shorts and a tank top, I lie down on the bed, knowing full well that the conversation is almost over. Niji needed to vent and she is done venting. She has even come up with a solution that is not ideal but somewhat feasible.

"I thought you'd never ask," she flirts over the phone and I know it's the magic of both me and the cafeteria's hot chocolate.

Niji tells me her Instagram ID and I give her a follow. I'm now one of nine thousand, three hundred and sixty-seven admirers. But none of them has ever been between her legs. That's all me.

Except for maybe if she has an ex who she hasn't blocked yet.

And then it occurs to me how tricky this whole situation can be. If anyhow, Jordan discovers that Niji is romantically involved with me, he would most certainly make use of that information. What if he knows already?

"Niji, baby listen! We'll get through this, you know that, right? You're strong and you're talented and that old hag will see that if only her eyes open."

"Thanks for saying that, Maki-san."

"But, baby, for a little while at least, we can't... tell people that we're seeing each other. Especially since Jordan is..."

Niji interrupts. "Yes, I wanted to ask. Because both you and Mai-san are being very weird about Jordan sensei. Who is he? How do you know him?"

I sigh. And I think I hear my sister sigh.

"You can't know... yet. Just know that he's a family friend and we're aware of his misdemeanors. And it would have been best if you could stay away from him. But if that's not possible, at least don't mention that... we're close. I might not be in his good books. That doesn't bother me but I don't want him to know that there's someone he can hurt to get to me."

"Hurt?" Niji is screaming again. That might have been a poor choice of words. "Okay, you're again sounding like you're part of the yakuza."

"Let's say that we are," Mai says. "For now, you can think of us as the mob. And... secrecy is the only thing that'd be safe for all of us. Especially, you since you're an outsider."

I hate what I'm about to do. "Baby, if this makes you want to reconsider our... relationship, then I understand. I wouldn't contact you again if that's what you want."

Niji stays silent for too long. I can hear the low bobbing from her throat as she downs the hot chocolate. "Oh wait! You're serious?" She asks when I don't start to speak either.

"Yes, baby."

What's a collection of sighs? Is it not Maki Zenin?

"No," she says, "I don't want to break up with you because of this. If we have to hide it, that's fine by me."

"That's fine by me too." I do not try to curb my smile.

How do you like this turn of events? This, again, was mostly unplanned yet felt natural and seems like it has a room full of potential to work with. What do you think?

A/n: If you liked this chapter, please consider leaving a vote and commenting about what you liked or what you'd like to see in the next chapters.