The Midnight Acolyte
Summary:
A freelance sorcerer is tasked with infiltrating Geto's cult to get more information, but what they uncover leads them to not only question their values but also their loyalties.
Notes:
A/N: Like many of my stories, the main characters are fat, Black, non-binary femmes, and it’s not fully canon to Jujutsu Kaisen events. I also want to offer that this fic does explore themes and kinks around blasphemy and corruption, so if that is not your cup of tea, then that is okay! Please let me know what y’all think! CW: MDNI, Blasphemy kink, corruption kink, cults, dishonesty, strong language, alcohol and drug use, BDSM, dark themes, mind games, manipulation (I will add more as the story progresses)
WC: 2.6k
Chapter One: Love to the Strong
"A wise man scales the city of the mighty and casts down the strength of the confidence thereof." - Proverbs 21:22
A cool breeze careens through fallen foliage and brushes through short, tight coils, and onto my scalp. The facade of the tall building casts a large shadow in the presence of the incoming sunlight as the star’s ascent kisses the horizon goodbye, tainting the dawn sky in a mosaic of purples, oranges, and greys.
I clutch the handle of my suitcase tightly as I stare blankly at the endless steps before me, my mind overwhelmed with information.
A throat clears, and I reconnect with reality, causing me to look up and meet eyes with a balding, mature man. With a face full of liver spots, and a small smile, he peers at me through his spectacles with beady, black eyes.
“Mx. Hatanaka?” he says softly yet flatly. I nod in response. “Welcome. I am here to give you a tour of the grounds and show you to your living quarters.”
He pivots to climb the stairs, and my body follows naturally. With every step forward my thoughts flash to mantras of my purpose.
Remember your mission, Cheyenne.
Don’t get caught up.
Maintain your mental fortitude.
With a final step, the man knocks on the door three times, and the large planks of solid mahogany open, coaxing me inside with the faint scent of jasmine incense. We enter the foyer and two acolytes close the doors behind us, concealing us from one world and opening us up to another. The man makes a right and we walk down a long corridor while rhythmic chanting reverberates off the walls, serving as the soundtrack for our journey.
“What we are walking through is a 150-year-old compound that served as the secret, countryside estate of a former emperor,” the man beams proudly as we walk down the hallway. “He was a pious man who valued a place where he could escape the weight of his responsibilities and prove his devotion in peace.” I hum with curiosity as I look around at the walls, covered in faded religious paintings and artifacts.
“Interesting. So is that why he- I mean, our leader, chose this place to house us?” I ask. The man chuckles, seemingly pleased with my inquiry.
“One could say that The Master has an affinity for the divine, so it is only right that he exists in a space that is worthy of his excellence.”
After what seems like an eternity, he slides open the door to reveal a series of hallways arranged in a square. An open-air courtyard sits in the center, containing well-manicured rose bushes. A figure is facing the opposite direction and squatting down while pruning some flowers, long, black hair cascading down a strong back, clothed in a white night robe. A somber bell chimes, signaling the start of the day. My guide stops, turns to me, and then lifts a withered finger to his lips.
“This is Master Geto’s garden that he tends to every morning,” he whispers. “We are not to disturb him during this time, so it is best that we remain quiet until we have left this area.” The man, his voice flat and deliberate. My eyes flash between the guide, Geto’s back, then back to the guide.
“But I will be meeting him… right?” I asked in a hushed voice full of feigned eagerness. The man stares at me coldly.
“We are not to disturb him during this time. Rest assured you will meet him when He calls on you.”
The dance of slight fear, frustration, and formality swirls on the man’s tongue and leaps into my ears as a gentle warning.
I keep my lips sealed, and we continue walking, yet my eyes remain transfixed on The Master’s back. We pad around the square until we are almost face to face, and at that moment, Geto retracts his hand from the bush and rises to his feet, holding his thumb up to the light to reveal a stuck thorn. With an unreadable face, he pulls the thorn out and brings the edge of the bleeding wound to his lips. Our eyes meet and he slowly wraps his lips around the tip of his thumb, revealing his full face to me in the morning light.
Geto is as gorgeous as the day is new. His hair perfectly frames his soft and handsome face, giving way to captivating violet eyes. The angelic scene captures my breath and holds it as if time itself stopped to grace me with his presence.
His excellence.
There is something playfully alluring and coy about his gaze as the air shifts to accommodate his essence, stirring something in me. I feel myself already getting sucked in, but my mind flashes to Kento’s pursed lips and cautionary tale.
“Suguru has a charisma that can end a nation. Tread lightly.”
The guide taps me on the shoulder and whisks me away from the courtyard, and as we exit Geto audibly chuckles. His face. His eyes. His lips. The image imprints on my mind, and I beat back any arising thoughts.
Mental. Fortitude.
To my benefit, the man continues to drone on about the history of the compound, a perfect distraction as he leads me through a kitchen, a mess hall, and finally, to the living quarters.
He takes out an iron key from his hakama and raps his knuckles on the door before opening it. He opens the door to reveal a room with three beds- one topped with scattered papers, trinkets, and clothing, another with a neat stack of uniforms, and the last, which is mine presumably, is a perfectly made bed just waiting to be claimed. I look around the room with slight confusion and cling to my suitcase even tighter.
“Not to sound rude. I am so grateful, truly. However, before my arrival, I had put in a request for a single-occupancy space due to personal reasons. Are there no vacancies?” I ask with concern, being mindful of my words.
The guide stops in front of the freshly snuffed fireplace and looks directly at me. A chill comes over his countenance, but it is quickly replaced by a slight (yet disingenuous) reassuring smile.
“After considering your request, The Master has said it would be best for you to have roommates to help get you acclimated to your first moments here. Once we see that you have properly settled in, we will ask him to revisit your request.”
“Understood. My apologies.”
A silence. I nod and remove my shoes, placing my sock-clad feet onto the cool wooden planks of the floor.
Fuck. I have to think of another plan.
I place my belongings beside my bed and exchange a final look at the guide.
“If you need anything please let us know, Mx. Hatanaka. We look forward to having you.”
We bow at each other and the man exits the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I spent most of the day exploring accessible parts of the compound, looking around for any private nook and cranny that I could borrow for a moment. My private dwelling plans being foiled, I realize I need to find a secure place to report back to my superiors.
Despite not finding said place, I did enjoy taking the moment to indulge in the beauty of the compound, eating delicious foods, sitting on the grass by a koi pond, and meditating in one of the many tatami rooms with some other followers who were cautious yet quite friendly.
I return to my room in the evening, and to my surprise, my roommates have yet to return.
I wonder where they could be .
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling until the monotony lulls me to sleep.
***
I awaken to the sound of a loud knocking on the door. I squint at the clock on the wall.
10 pm? Fuck. I’ve been asleep that long?
I stretch and shuffle over to the door, revealing a beautiful, shapely woman with ash-brown hair dressed in a plum, ribbed dress. She types furiously on her phone and then looks up at me.
“Suguru would like to see you,” she drones. “Alone.”
I look at the clock and then back to her.
“At this hour? Surely this can-”
“He wants to see you now,” she presses firmly. I hustle to put on my sandals and follow the woman to a corridor cached behind a bookcase.
We do not exchange words during our trek. The only sounds between us are her texting and our footsteps.
At the end of the hallway is a translucent sliding, screen door, dimly illuminated by flickering candles. She slides the door open and motions for me to go inside, and I obey without faltering, walking into a room with a low table, a bowl full of a variety of apples, two cups, a decanter of sake, and a plate with a small knife. I kneel at one end of the table in front of another door and huff, tapping my long, black acrylics against my pants legs. The woman closes the door and stands near it, her phone attached to her like gum on cement.
Minutes pass, and the sliding door slams open, revealing Master Geto in all of his glory. He closes the door and idles for a moment, allowing me to bask in his grand entrance. He looks ethereal and commanding in the candlelight– half of his hair put up into a neat top bun, leaving a few strands in the front as a bang, the rest of his raven tresses to grace the back of his gojogesa. A smile stretches across his face as he removes his sandals and strolls toward the part of the table closest to him. He kneels and places his smooth palms on his lap, his smile never leaving his face.
“Suda,” he coos. “Leave us, please.” She wordlessly exits, leaving me alone with Him in the room. In the lion’s den.
Now in his presence, I notice a subtle shift in the air– an increase in the output of cursed energy.
He reaches over to the bowl and grabs a fuji apple, suspending it in his hand over the plate. He looks at me through low eyelids and picks up the knife with his other, shifting his focus to peel the fruit as he settles in.
We sit in silence as he peels the flesh from the apple, the knife gliding seamlessly through it. Each time it gets dangerously close to his thumb, but his movements are fluid enough that the blade never meets his skin.
“I trust that you’re finding your accommodations well?” he inquires, the words flowing from his mouth like cool water on a hot day. I nod and move to return his seemingly innocuous question with a harmless response.
“All is well, Master Geto. I have not met my roommates yet, but I hope and am sure that they will help me get adjusted. Do you know where they are?”
He slightly quickens the pace of his peeling, letting out a little more cursed energy.
“Shuu and Amaka are out on a little relaxation trip at the onsen. A rare treat reserved for the best and most obedient . But a treat nonetheless.” he replies, angling the knife in my direction to peel off the last bits of its skin. I sigh and shift with slight discomfort as I begin to feel a bit of pressure from his cursed energy and gestures.
“Do you know when they will be returning?” He sharply removes the final piece of skin.
“They will return when they will,” he replies flatly. I fold my bottom lip into my mouth and chew on it slightly. The corners of his mouth curl into a slight smirk.
He’s up to something.
“Do you think that trust is earned or willfully given, Mx. Hatakana?” his eyes widen, seemingly searching for insecurity in mine. Though his question slightly disarms me, I straighten my back and prepare for the mental gymnastics.
Tread lightly.
“Quite the question, but doesn’t that depend on who’s posing it?” I reply, my ebony eyes locking with his. He chuckles and takes a bite of his apple.
“Quite the answer, but I recall asking you a question first. Where do you stand, Mx. Hatakana?”
“Cheyenne is fine,” I offer firmly. He scoffs under his breath.
“The former will do for now. Your answer, Mx. Hatakana?” he presses a bit more, energetically and tonally, eyeing me like a fox slowly cornering a hare.
What is he thinking?
“Like any other core tenet of connection and community, Master Geto, I think that there is no concrete answer to when and when not to trust and that it’s on a case-by-case basis,” I reply, “There are times when I make a decision to trust someone based on the information available to me, other times I trust my intuition, but most of the time I find that I often rely on a mixture of both.”
My response ignites something in him.
“My such a riveting conversation has whet my thirst. Would you care for a drink?” he muses with an air of mischief that is damn near sinister. I nod and watch as he reaches for the sake decanter and cups. He opens the bottle and starts to pour, and I can't help but observe how delicately his black-painted fingers are wrapped around it. Once he’s done, he closes the decanter and puts the cups in the center of the table– one closer to me, and the other to him.
Something’s amiss.
“Is there a catch?” I ask with a raised brow. His smirk widens.
“Your perception is keen. I’m impressed,” he says. “There’s a catch to everything in life–my hospitality is no different. I offer you a minor test of wills. You see, Mx. Hatakana, these cups of sake may seem harmless, but that is only half true. One of these cups spares your life while the other ends it.”
Poison.
“The goal is to choose the untainted cup. I will give you some time to deliberate on your decision.”
He places his elbow on the table and rests his chin on his palm, humming to himself as my eyes falter between the two cups. His stare is composed, yet deep down there is a twinge of amusement and intrigue.
I stretch out the fingers of my left hand beneath the table and try my hardest to keep my own cursed energy at bay.
In my mind's eye, my energy maps and connects to various items in the room. The lines connected to the cups and decanter are unbroken and calm.
He lied. These cups have not been tampered with.
Knowing this, I close my hand and look at him, reaching over and taking the cup closest to him. A slight face of disbelief graces his cheeks before adjusting himself. I drink from the cup with conviction and watch as he smiles and hums with approval.
“Although I am not sure how you came to your conclusion, I admire your resolve. I suppose that is enough for today.” he beams. “Suda,” she reemerges, “show them back to their quarters.” I rise from my place and head toward the door, watching as he stands. Before exiting he turns his head to gaze upon me one last time.
“I look forward to meeting with you again soon, Cheyenne.”
And with that, the door slams shut and the candles are extinguished, leaving me bewildered as I return down the hallway to quiet uncertainty.
