From horseback to mechanised vehicles. Boats to aeroplanes. They had witnessed the progression of humanity. They had watched Shoguns boast of eternal empires, only for them to fall as empires were wont to do. Villages become kingdoms, become nations, become ash. Maps redrawn ceaselessly as the world became less, and more, strange. The French revolution had been a particular highlight from the literature it spawned alone.
So naturally, even in the insular Jujutsu society, change — they looked down at their hands, shaped almost exactly the way a human's weren't — was inevitable. A fact Tengen had long come to terms with. Some change was even welcome! Like their barriers, for instance. That had been a master stroke of genius. Maybe the world could have adapted to the increasing volume of sorcerers, and cursed spirits. Maybe the world would have changed even faster, developed certain wonders sooner, solutions sooner, and Tengen could have been considering real estate on Mars instead of putting out this current fire. Or maybe nukes would be running on cursed energy. Yeah, it might not be worth the coin toss. Mice and their mousetraps, Tengen supposed.
As the oldest living steward of the dirt beneath their feet, Tengen felt a certain degree of responsibility towards the world. It had clothed them, fed them, held their friends in its loving embrace when the time came. So, if it all it wanted in return was balance that was just a little quid pro quo.
At Japan's expense, Tengen had balanced the world. It had cost them friends, their freedom, and now in recent years, their humanity. Fushiguro Toji had been an unwelcome change, but while that remained true, his actions didn't come without their benefits. They could feel it now. The world around them, permitting, forgiving and barring everything that happened within it. They could feel the lengths it went through to keep itself spinning.
When the Zenin girl was still forming in her mother's womb, Jujutsu had given her a twin. Another being to bear the weight of her heavenly restriction so that neither could wield the full extent of their own power. Perhaps it had known what Toji would become. What he would do to the world when he became strong enough to do it. Perhaps it decided that was enough 'Toji' for one generation?
Now the world was roiling. Tengen could feel it surge and seethe like the restless tide. Then earlier today, at precisely 4AM, it jerked away from its battered shore. Away from Sendai, like it had been struck. Like it was about to respond with a tsunami.
"This must have been how it felt when Satoru was born."
The ebb and flow as existence desperately tried to counterbalance what — or whoever the hell had shocked the system. They could feel it even now, the shifting scales beneath the world.
"What lengths will it go through to balance you?"
Tengen could only ponder and brace for impact.