#“But...but...what he did to Alina...”
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୨・──── ALL I WANT IS LOVE THAT LASTS, IS ALL I WANT TOO MUCH TO ASK ? ────・୧
link to part i
pairing ⸺ satoru gojo x reader
teaser ⸺ trying to mend your broken bond with gojo satoru becomes difficult at the entrance of a rival, a distinct memory from your past. torn between love that aches and love that heals, you are left to pick up the remnants of what could have been and lay to arrange what will be. choices hold the power to break or mend, and satoru meets your guarded heart that threatens to either tear you apart or weave you back together. will satoru be able to win you back in time — or will the scars of yesterday refuse to tie you to a love that was never meant to be?
content ⸺ fluff, mostly f!reader, heavy angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, slowburn, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, love triangle, shitty choices, implied abuse, jealousy, implied torture, implied slavery, mentions of grape, death, massacre, murder, royal!au, magic!au, historic!au
count ⸺ 22k + 2k
author’s note ⸺ so this marks the end of the series with gojo! watch out for ones with other characters <3 this came out way later than i had expected it to, oof. sorry to keep all of you waiting! for some reason tumblr is not letting me post the whole thing, so if you want to read what happens after 22k words, i’m leaving the ao3 and wattpad links as well.
🎧 ao3 wattpad
Three years had passed since that incident. You were now twenty years old, working a respectable job at Jujutsu High as a teacher. It was nice to utilize the knowledge you had gained back at the School of Royalty. Jujutsu High, as a school, was similar to the one you used to attend as a child, except the children here were far more humble.
You preferred this over anything else though. You wouldn’t want to spend the rest of your time around spoiled kids who had never heard the word ‘no’ in their lives.
It wasn’t necessarily the kids of the nobility that you despised, but rather the ideologies they carried with them. You still cringed remembering Kamo Alina babble about traditions “back at her kingdom”. Perhaps you had hatred against all noble clans, except your own, the Gojo clan, of course. The rest seemed too hollow and self-absorbed, and their kids seemed either too coddled or too burdened.
You were in charge of the first years at the school. You had few students, but they were all the best ones you could ask for: Maki Zenin, Toge Inumaki and Panda.
Maki was from the Zenin clan, whom you knew to be cunning and sly. She was very different from what the papers said about her lineage though — Maki had a knack for being good at fighting and war skills, whereas her clan was famous for running with their tails in between their legs from their opponents. You had caught the little girl staring at you more than once during your training sessions with Utahime. It was nice to have her watch; perhaps it was best that way for her to learn the things you did as well.
Toge was from the Inumaki clan, and used to speak in only food ingredients to not accidentally curse those around him. And finally, Panda was the ‘son’ of Principal Yaga, and a cursed corpse.
Here, you were glad you weren’t in charge of shaping heirs of stupid clans in a factory. Rather, you were to train and enhance those who were willing to learn. And in this humble, quiet school, you had found something even the nobility, who looked down upon the place as often as they could, could never offer to you: peace.
Things back at home… weren’t the best. Satoru was almost always away for ‘missions’ with Suguru, and it had been a long time since the two of you had even seen each other, let alone talk. You couldn’t recall the last time you both even sat together in the same room alone. He never told you where he was going, and you never asked — what was the point after all? He wouldn’t say even if you screamed at the top of your voice.
His mother had quite a few times tried to fix the situation between you two, but it never worked. Satoru had developed a strained relationship with his mother as well. After all, she had a hand in keeping the secret of your engagement from him, so how could he trust her again? Every time she tried to help, the gap between the entire family seemed to widen even more. It didn’t help that his father had stopped talking completely to his mother as well. There were rumours around the clan that the leaders were sleeping in separate rooms after that incident with the Kamo clan. You would have felt bad for her, if you didn’t feel worse for yourself.
Shoko had decided to pursue her medical education in a different kingdom. There was a void from where she had left, and although you were happy for her that she was able to live her dreams, the emptiness you felt whenever you reread your old letters made you feel sorry for yourself.
Utahime had been the only one to stay back with you. When you told her about your plans to teach at Jujutsu High, she immediately dropped her own things and joined the same school. You would often feel guilty for leading her to a different path than she had originally intended, but she would constantly reassure you that she would never have it any other way. At the school, the two of you would fool around with each other a lot, but the hollow space left by the old memories of the others would always nag at your brain the second you were by yourself.
Dinnertime at the table became a quiet affair. Oftentimes, while playing with the food on your plate, you missed the old banters between Satoru and his father. It almost felt like a distant memory from a whole other timeline, as if those little moments never happened at all. You usually ate your dinner alone in your room now, since it wasn’t worth coming all the way to the dining room anymore. Satoru’s father ate out every day, and his mother used to be the only one to eat at the table. If it weren’t for her, you wondered if you would be eating at all.
This night seemed like any other night when you had decided to eat at the table. Yet you couldn’t look up at your mother’s face and into her eyes. She looked paler than ever as if she was sick. Her eyes seemed hollow and dark, and if it weren’t for the tight grip she had on her chopsticks, you would have wondered if she had any strength in her left at all. After finishing your food quietly, you set your chopsticks down, and were about to stand up to bow and leave, when she stopped you.
“Stay,” she said this one word softly, and it took everything in you not to collapse in her arms at the sound of her weak voice. She didn’t look at you directly, but rather somewhere on the table, and she looked as if she was lost in thought, though you knew she had become this way ever since that night.
You sat back down, and stared at her as her grip on her chopsticks tightened ever so slightly. She opened a quivering lip to speak. “My son... my Satoru... He’s never been this upset… at me.”
You swallowed. He had never been this upset at you either. He had never been upset at all. You used to wonder if Satoru Gojo even had the word ‘upset’ in his dictionary. And now that was all you could see.
“I just hope…” she trembled slightly, “... that you can find it in your hearts to… to forgive me.” She looked up, and you looked away, for you knew the sight in front of you wouldn’t let you breathe another moment. You knew she was holding back tears. You were too.
“There is nothing to forgive,” you croaked out, hoping what you were saying was making sense. “I just wonder if this is worth going about if he isn’t happy with it.”
“It’s not, you’re right,” she murmured, looking back down to her plate. “I was a princess. I was told I could never be wrong. Yet here I am, hoping I am not, even though every cell of my body tells me I am.” Then she looked right into your eyes, and something in your heart broke again at her state. “Would you want to marry someone who was not him?”
You stopped. No. No, of course not. No, you would never, ever even dream of marrying someone that wasn’t him. But what could you do now? What could be done? If he did not want it, then how could you? How could you do something like this to him against his will? So slowly, you nodded. “Perhaps I could think about it. But not now.”
“I understand. Goodnight to you.”
“Goodnight, mother.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
“Good morning, Miss!”
“Good morning, Miss.”
“Salmon.”
“Yes, yes, good morning to all of you. Hurry up now, the first class starts in 15 minutes,” you said swiftly, waving at the kids. You turned to Utahime, who was staring at the parents dropping their kids off to catch some hot single dad she, or rather you, could have a chance with. “What class do you have first, Miss Transfiguration?”
“The annoying third-years,” she grumbled. “How about you, Miss Charms?”
“My first years. I’m charmed.”
“Sure, you are.”
You watched the carriage Maki had stepped out of. It was rather modest for someone of Zenin lineage. But what really caught Utahime’s attention wasn’t the car — it was the man who stepped out to escort Maki.
He was tall, with dyed blond hair that shimmered under the morning light, and striking brown eyes. Utahime froze.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“Wow. Is that… him?” she whispered, gripping your arm.
“Him?” you asked.
“The guy! From years ago!” she hissed as if that explained everything.
You raised an eyebrow, watching as the man exchanged a brief word with Maki before returning to his carriage. “Iori, you’re not making any sense.”
Utahime pulled out her wand and immediately began tapping it on her temple at a rapid pace. “Don’t you remember when those exchange students introduced themselves? In the hall? That cactus transfiguration kid? This is him. Look.”
A floating picture hovered in your hands. It was slightly blurry, moving up and down serenely, but you could make out the younger version of the man fixing his carriage in front of the school gates clearly. You blinked at the picture, then at Utahime.
“You… remember him enough to produce this complicated magic?” you asked, though you didn’t know whether to be amused or alarmed.
Utahime shrugged unapologetically. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. “‘hime, you’re a stalker.”
She grinned, utterly unbothered. “A resourceful stalker, I’d say. Anyway, don’t you think he’s—”
“Don’t say it,” you warned, already seeing where this was going.
“—handsome?” she finished, her grin widening mischievously.
You groaned, covering your face. “Utahime, he’s Maki’s guardian. You make it sound like I’m ready to adopt her or something. That’s weird.”
She waved off your protest, nudging you playfully. “Come on, he’s single. Uh, probably. And if he’s not, well, that’s just unfortunate for him.”
“Why are we even talking about this?” you muttered.
“Because,” she said with mock seriousness, “you’ve been single for far too long, and this is an opportunity. So…” She leaned closer. “Why don’t you try flirting with him?”
You stared at her like she’d grown another head. “Preposterous. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” she teased, clearly enjoying your discomfort.
You glanced at the man who was now pulling away in the carriage looking like a war hero, and then back at Utahime. “Because I don’t feel like dying today. You know, the Zenin clan and all of that?”
She laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as you both headed back inside. “Suit yourself, but just know — I’m rooting for you!”
“Utahime,” you sighed, “you’re impossible.”
But her laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help it.
You smiled.
──── ୨ৎ ────
The staffroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratch of your quill against parchment as you graded the first-years’ essays. Utahime, however, was anything but quiet. She had perched herself on the edge of your desk, her hands gripping the back of your chair as she swung it gently back and forth.
“Flirt with him,” she said.
“No,” you replied flatly, not looking up from the parchment.
“Come on, just a little?” she coaxed, leaning over your shoulder and nearly smudging the ink you’d just scrawled across a particularly poor attempt at a levitation charm essay.
You leaned back slightly, giving her a deadpan look. “Utahime, I am trying to work.”
“And I am trying to help you!” she shot back, as if her nagging about your love life was an act of selfless charity.
You sighed, putting down the quill and crossing your arms. “For the last time, I am not flirting with Maki’s guardian. That’s weird.”
“It’s not weird. It’s romantic,” she argued, dragging out the last word like it was a persuasive spell. “You’re single. He’s single—”
“We don’t know that he’s single,” you interjected, but Utahime waved you off.
“Semantics,” she said. “The point is, he’s clearly into you. Did you not see the way he looked at you yesterday?”
“The reason he even looked at me was because you shoved me in front of him like a sacrificial lamb,” you retorted.
“Details,” she said breezily, now swiveling your chair side to side. “But seriously, what’s the harm in a little bit of flirting? He’s charming, dashing, hot, and you’re… uh, you…?”
“Wow, thanks,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
She grinned. “See? You’re already warming up to the idea,” she leaned in close to your face.
The door swung open. There he was, the same man both of you had just been talking about. He took one look inside the room and raised an eyebrow. Your eyes widened, because of course, without any context it looked like you and Utahime were just about to kiss. You shrieked and pushed her away and she laughed at you, though she stopped when she saw the man judging her silently. Maki face-palmed behind the man.
“Excuse me if I am interrupting something intimate,” he looked at you. “We had an appointment regarding Maki’s performance, yes?”
“Ho ho ho! Yes you did!” Utahime giggled and left the room, and it seemed like she had taken all the comfort out of it too, leaving you, him and Maki standing in it, staring at each other awkwardly. Maki coughed loudly and excused herself, and you made a mental note to reduce some points on her essay.
You cleared your throat as Naoya took a seat across from you. His presence seemed to shrink the staffroom. He leaned back in the chair as if he owned the room. You focused on the stack of papers in front of you, determined to act professional. In your mind, you could hear Utahime’s voice still echoing: Flirt with him!
He folded his hands on the desk and his gaze flickered briefly to the papers in your hands before locking onto your face.
“I have to ask,” he began casually. “Are you and that colleague of yours… together?”
You froze mid-flip of Maki’s report card, staring at him as if he’d just asked you to duel. “What?”
He leaned back slightly with a faint smirk. “You and that woman. The way you two were before. It crossed my mind that you might be…” He trailed off.
“I’m not— she’s— what? No!” you sputtered, feeling your cheeks burn.
“Ah,” he said softly, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank heavens. I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself if you were.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
His smirk softened into something more playful. “Well, I’d have had to rethink all my plans, for starters.”
“Plans?” you echoed, your voice coming out higher-pitched than you had intended it to be.
“Mhm,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Plans like how to win your favour, of course. You can imagine how devastating it would’ve been to learn I stood no chance from the start.”
You could feel your brain short-circuiting. Was he flirting? Or was this just his sense of humor?
“I— uh— Maki!” you stammered, blurting out her name like it was a life saver. It technically was. “We’re supposed to be talking about Maki’s progress!”
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Her progress is paramount. But forgive me — I’m a man of focus, and right now, my focus seems to have shifted.”
“Let’s have it shift back to Maki then,” you insisted.
He chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to close the space between you ever so slightly. “As you wish. But if I may, just one more thing.”
You hesitated warily. “…What now?”
“You have the most fascinating reactions,” he said. “I could watch you get flustered all day.”
Your hands gripped the papers tightly, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “Mr Zenin, do you ever stop talking?”
His grin widened. “Not when I’m talking to someone this delightful. And it’s Naoya, to you, darling.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
For the school’s 107th anniversary, you and the other teachers had decided to plan a surprise event for the students, guardians and even the principal. But as you stared at the chairs lying askew everywhere, and the food stall looking like it had undergone a raid, you sighed. Who would have to clean everything up in the end? The teachers, of course.
You bent down to pick a random flask up from the ground, and you looked up to see Naoya standing at the entrance of the schoolgates. You watched as he shooed away the carriage with Maki and their driver in it, and walked towards you.
You got up quickly and panicked, eyes darting everywhere to see if he really was walking to you or not. Naoya stopped in front of you, and suddenly the flask in your hands seemed too heavy. You dropped it, but he caught the tin, lips curving into a smile at your surprise.
“Astonishing reflexes, hm?” You nodded at his words and he laughed. “That was quite the show, I believe. You handle large crowds really well.”
You half-laughed at the compliment, looking down at your shaking hands. Why were you so nervous?
“Yeah, well, the crowd has departed now, and this is the tough bit.”
“I can help,” he smiled at you, and you blinked in surprise.
“Ah, you don’t have to. Besides, we can’t make guardians work for us.”
“I insist.” He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up and put his hands on his hips. “Where are the inconveniences that have you so troubled? I shall fight them.”
You snickered a bit. His dramatic actions reminded you of someone.
A certain someone.
Maybe that’s why you liked his company.
You snapped out of your thoughts when you saw him staring at the upturned tables with dread. “Has there been a call of war here?”
“Close enough. The seller had mochis on his bill of fare.”
“That sums it up. But you can’t possibly expect me to dirty my hands with this. A nobleman shouldn’t be doing manual labor,” he shook his head and sighed.
You raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re the one who insisted on staying to help.”
Naoya grinned. “Well, I can’t leave my favorite teacher to fend for herself. Besides…” He picked up two chairs effortlessly with one hand, and turned around to see if you were still watching. “It’s a chance to show off.”
Maybe it won’t be as boring with him around after all.
You had found yourself in this lonely teahouse far more than you could admit for someone of your status. It usually buzzed with the chatter of lonely workers, gossiping seamstresses and little children. But it was better, far better than what was going on at home anyway. You stared at your chawan, and put your fingers around it to drink. But the vessel was hot, and you hissed as you withdrew your hand back, the tea inside seemingly hissing back menacingly.
“Careful, darling,” a voice said from behind you and you jumped. “I said, careful,” he taunted, rubbing the top of your head affectionately. You looked up to meet Naoya’s eyes, your own widening when you saw him.
“Naoya!”
“Fancy meeting you here. I didn’t think I’d find you in such a quaint little spot.”
“Me neither. Isn’t this place,” you waved around at the dull walls of the room, “below your usual standards, Mr Zenin?”
He crossed your table to pull out a chair in front of you and sat down. “I could say the same about you. Or perhaps,” he brushed his fingers on your lips to wipe the wetness of tea from earlier, “we were led here by fate.”
You choked on air at his action. “Fate? We’re just at a teahouse. It’s not exactly a meeting of the stars.”
Naoya grinned at your fluster, and leaned forward playfully. “Ah, but you see, fate works in mysterious ways. And right now, it’s working to bring me closer to the most captivating woman in the room.”
“Ha, ha,” you mumbled, staring into your vessel to avoid meeting his eyes. “You talk too much.”
He laughed softly. The server arrived with a platter of sweets, and bowed, “For the lovely couple.”
You spat the tea you had just sipped out. “We— we’re not—”
“Thank you, miss,” Naoya interrupted you swiftly, and nodded at the server, who immediately straightened up to take his leave.
You stared at him, aghast. “Naoya, we’re not—”
“Not yet, at least. But I’m not opposed to the idea. How about we take the first step?” He leaned in closer and planted a teasing kiss on your cheek.
Your jaw dropped — from embarrassment or at his audacity, you did not know. “What—?”
“There. Now we’re official.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
You clutched your bag tightly. Great, another rainy day. And you had refused the umbrella your maid had offered to you as well. Sighing, you looked at the sky. The downpour didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. If only a miracle happened that would escort you back home safely.
“Stranded, are we?” Naoya’s voice broke through the rain. You turned to see him standing with a pristine black umbrella, grinning at you as if he was not surprised at all to meet you here.
“Yeah. You stayed back? Where’s Maki?”
“Oh, I left her to go home in the carriage,” he shifted the handle of his umbrella to one shoulder. “Need me?”
“I’ll manage,” you replied, not wanting to disturb him. Though part of you wondered whether he would be here if you hadn’t been stuck here as well.
“Let’s not ruin such a lovely sight with such a disaster. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
“I’ll be fine, really. You don’t have to—”
“I insist. Or would you prefer I let you catch a cold? Then you’d have no choice but to rely on me to nurse you back to health.”
You groaned. “You’re impossible.” Realizing you had no way home without his help, you stood under his umbrella. He grinned at you, tilting the umbrella more towards you to shield you from the harsh rain.
“You’re getting wet,” you pointed out.
“It’s a small price to pay.” He glanced at you with a sly smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me.”
“I’m not,” you scoff slightly.
“Good. I’d hate for you to think I’m fragile.”
The walk ahead was comfortable, although you didn’t think that was the case for Naoya. By the time you had reached the entrance of the clan, you could see Naoya’s sleeves were drenched. But he didn’t seem to mind at all. His eyes followed something ahead that you coulldn’t see through the fog that covered the atmosphere.
“Naoya? What are you looking at?” You asked, and he huffed in irritation — more so at the thing he had seen than at you.
He wrapped an arm around your waist and you involuntarily sucked your stomach in at it. He led you to the figure.
White hair… Lovely blue eyes…
Your fiance who refused to be yours.
Gojo Satoru.
He was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed in front of him, staring at you two through his sunglasses as if he would rather be looking at anything else than at the fingers curling around your waist.
Naoya, much to your horror, approached Satoru with you still in his arms. “Greetings,” he said pleasantly. “We’ve met before, yes?”
“Yes,” Satoru replied coolly. Then he addressed you, though his eyes didn’t quite meet yours. “Who’s he?”
You started. Fuck. What was he to you? An acquaintance? The guardian of one of your students? An associate—?
“Her boyfriend,” Naoya stepped in before you could respond, and you watched Satoru’s eyes lose what little warmth they had earlier. He turned to you as if expecting you to deny the claim.
“What? I mean, I guess…? Maybe? But I’m not sure—”
Satoru arched an eyebrow, and let out a single syllable that made your heart break into pieces all over again. “Oh.” He looked at you with an expression you couldn’t understand at all. His lips were twitched, but he wasn’t happy. His eyebrows were furrowed, but he wasn’t confused. You felt like he was toying with your brain on purpose with all the failed hints his face gave.
Naoya grinned smugly. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave her in your care now, brother.” He was clearly enjoying himself.
Your eyes widened.
Look… I’ve never thought of you that way before, okay? You’re… you’re pretty, but you’re like a sister to me. That’s how I’ve always seen you.
Satoru’s eyes darkened, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a step back. “Great. Fantastic,” he mocked you. “I’m so glad you’re being taken care of, my little sister.”
A few more minutes passed, though they were so awkward you did not have the courage to relive them. Naoya had left with a smirk and a wave, and Satoru had followed you inside the estate when all you wanted to do was get away from him.
“You’re… back, haha,” you mumbled, and he nodded. The rain patted against the windowsill softly, and each drop felt like it rained in your heart.
“Is he really your boyfriend?” He blurted out.
“Huh?” You were caught off guard. “Oh, um… I don’t know? He took me out for coffee once. Does that count?”
“No, absolutely not,” Satoru scoffed.
You paused. And then you let out a laugh. He stared at you and let out a bark of laughter as well.
“Him? Your boyfriend,” he wiped the tears off from his eyes. “The audacity!”
“Typical of him, I suppose,” you chortled.
“What did he even ask you for the coffee thing?”
“He said he wanted to talk about Maki’s essays,” you snickered, and he cackled.
“Essays?”
“Yeah!”
“You know, you should probably go on a real date sometime. Just so you can tell the difference between a parent-teacher conference and, y’know, an actual date,” he rolled his eyes.
“Oh, yeah? And who’s going to take me out on this ‘real date’? You?” You teased.
Satoru froze. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then quickly closed it, his gaze flickering away from you.
You felt the awkwardness returning from earlier. Forcing out a laugh, you waved your hand dismissively. “I’m kidding! Obviously. Haha. Anyway, I should, uh, go now. Busy day tomorrow and all that. So, um, goodnight!”
You practically bolted from the room, leaving Satoru standing there, staring at where you had just been. His hand twitched as if he wanted to stop you, but he stayed silent, his jaw tightening as he watched you retreat.
You locked your door, hoping you weren’t being wishful as always when you heard the faint murmur of his voice.
“Maybe I would.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
The next morning, you stepped out of your house, adjusting your bag of supplies on your shoulder. Rejecting your driver who had offered you a ride in the luxurious carriage, you walked on, greeting the little children of the various families of your clan. Crossing the gate of the main estate, you found Satoru leaning casually against a nearby carriage, waiting for something — or rather, someone.
“Morning,” he said, grinning like he had been there for hours. His sunglasses reflected the surprise in your eyes under the morning light.
“Uh… good morning?” You blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged at you. “Thought you might need a ride.”
“Don’t you have work?” You asked sceptically. He had had missions and trips to be on all this time, so why was he here now?
He shrugged again, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not yet. Free morning.”
“Oh,” you frowned at his excuse. “Well, I usually just walk to work. Sorry.”
“Ah, well, no problem then,” he straightened up, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. “I’ll walk with you.”
“What? No, it’s alright—”
Satoru waved the driver of the carriage off and waltzed over to you. “Too late. I’m committed now.”
You sighed in defeat, letting him walk with you. Silence loomed over you, the kind that made you hyper aware of every crunch the leaves under your feet made, every chirp the birds on nearby trees let out, and even every breath you didn’t know you kept holding.
“It’s a nice morning, huh?” He finally broke the tense silence, though the strain in his voice made it even more awkward.
“Yeah it is,” you glanced and nodded at him briefly.
Another long stretch of silence. When did you two become this way? Nevermind, you remembered the day it all had started a bit too clearly for your liking. But this seemed too delicate, too much. How was your walk with the arrogant Naoya Zenin more comfortable than one with the person you had spent nearly all your life with?
“So,” he started again, clearing his throat, “you walk this route every day?”
“It’s not that far,” you nodded.
“It’s been a while since I walked anywhere,” he chuckled softly to himself.
You risked a small smile in the midst of the unpleasant stillness. “Yeah, I remember. You always complained if the carriage wasn’t ready, or if you were sent to meet other clans on foot.”
“I was spoiled,” he grinned proudly. “Still am, probably.”
Despite yourself, you laughed softly. But it was fleeting, and the silence returned to keep reminding you of how much everything has changed. By the time you reached the gates of Jujutsu High, the sun was higher in the sky. Satoru stopped a few stops short of the massive gateway.
“Well, here you are,” he turned to look at you with softened eyes.
You nodded and adjusted your bag. “Thanks for walking with me.”
“Anytime,” he smiled. Faint as it was, it still didn’t reach his eyes.
In the faculty lounge at Jujutsu High, you sat with Utahime after she had barked at the other teachers to let her have some “alone time” with you. It seemed as if although she was trying her best to get you and Naoya together, she was hardly denying the rumours between you and her.
She suddenly perked up mid-cursing at an answer paper of one of the third-years. “Oh, right! Did you hear? There’s a new recruit for a teaching position. Principal Yaga told me yesterday.”
“Oh, cool,” you snapped out of your own thoughts about the weird tension Naoya had landed you in. “Who’s interviewing them?”
“You, duh.” You groaned audibly and she laughed.
“Hopefully it’s not another Ijichi,” you grumbled, wincing as you remembered the interview you had with him a few months ago.
“Be nice,” she said, though she snickered at the memory. “He was just nervous!”
“Nervous?” You huffed loudly. “Utahime, the man tripped over his own feet before he even sat down. And I wasn’t even intimidating!”
“You? Not intimidating?” She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, definitely. Tell that to the first-years.”
“I’m a delight,” you shrugged, batting your eyelashes innocently. “Ijichi, on the other hand… couldn’t even make eye contact during the interview. I had to repeat my question three times before he answered.”
“Maybe this one will be better,” she got excited, and you knew what she was thinking of before it even came out of her mouth. “Who knows? They might even impress you—”
“No,” you snapped, and she giggled.
You were in enough of what your teenage self would have called “boy troubles” already to have a third one enter your life. First Satoru, then Naoya, and now Satoru again. You sighed. Shouldn’t you be flattered that a guy like Naoya shows interest in you? He’s rich, a noble (although the Gojo clan wouldn’t care about status either way), handsome and romantic. What more could you want? But on the other hand, Satoru is… well… him? You hardly think anyone would be able to compete with the Satoru you knew.
Utahime set down her papers and held your hand, as if determined to show you how a real man should hold you. “Alright, what’s wrong?” She asked gently. “You’ve been off for days. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
You hesitated. “Satoru,” you muttered.
“Of course,” she sighed. She inhaled loudly before— “That insufferable, pompous cretin! A walking disgrace to his lineage! I’ve met noble horses with more grace and tact! A royal pain, in every possible way. That walking definition of idiocy needs to be knocked off his pedestal, preferably into a pile of mud.”
You blinked rapidly. You’d be lying if you understood a single word that she just said.
“What does that even mean?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she waved a hand dismissively, fuming with rage. “The point is, he’s an idiot. The biggest idiot. And if he’s making you feel like this, then I’m going to—”
“Okay, okay!” You smiled faintly at her ambitious attempt to choke thin air with her hands as if grabbing his throat. “But it’s not just him.”
“There’s more? It’s alright, I can fight—”
“Not for fighting!” You added quickly, alarmed. “It’s Naoya.”
“What did he do?” She stopped her antics.
“I just feel like I’m stuck between those two,” you palmed your face. You were utterly distraught. “Satoru keeps walking me to work, like he’s trying to fix things, but then Naoya, he’s been kind, attentive, and all of the good stuff you keep babbling about. I don’t know what to do if it ever came down to choosing between them.”
She leaned forward seriously, and forced your chin upwards to meet her eyes like your second mother. “Listen. Ask yourself two questions. First: Who sees you for you? Not the ‘I’m-strong-enough-to-not-need-anyone-else’ image you’ve been trying to put up, not the teacher you’ve become, but just… you. The good and the bad.”
“And the second?” You frowned thoughtfully.
“Who makes you feel safe?” She said simply. “Not just physically, but emotionally as well. Who can you trust with your heart, knowing they’ll look after it like the finest treasure?”
Like the finest treasure? The answer was simple.
But not the one you wanted.
Not who you craved.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Utahime gave you a small smile. “Just don’t settle for less than you deserve, okay?”
You nodded gratefully. “You’re way better at this than you seem like, you know.”
“I’m a delight,” she echoed your words from earlier, giggling.
──── ୨ৎ ────
It had been almost a month since the walks with Satoru had begun. You had hoped as time went by you would’ve gotten more used to the tension it carried, but each day seemed to offer a new, worse one. The quietness lingered heavily between you, just like it had been all this while.
“So,” he started, glancing at you, “am I annoying you?”
“What?” You cross-questioned, startled at the insecurity in his voice. “No, why would you think that?”
“I dunno,” he shrugged, trying his best to be nonchalant, but you knew him too well to know it was an act. “It’s been over a month of me tagging along, and you haven’t said much. I thought maybe you’d prefer walking with someone else. Like Naoya,” he mumbled the last part.
“No,” you said firmly. “You’re not annoying—”
“I just hoped,” he cut you off, “you’d think this was better than with him. That’s all.”
You didn’t know how to respond, so you just hummed, looking away at a nearby tree and counting the number of leaves on it.
“Yeah,” Satoru chuckled quietly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thought so.”
You couldn’t reply to that.
“Here we are,” he murmured, opening the schoolgates for you just to find something to do. But when he followed behind you inside, you raised an eyebrow.
“You’re coming all the way in? Don’t worry, Naoya won’t step inside the school.”
“Good to know,” he adjusted his sunglasses, “but I’m not worried about Naoya.”
“Then?”
He closed the gates and turned to face you, beaming despite his earlier demeanour. “I’m a candidate for the teaching post.”
“What?!”
“What? You didn’t know?” He tilted his head, acting innocent. “Thought I’d apply for the position. Figured it was about time I contributed my immense knowledge to the next generation.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You? A teacher?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment even though it’s meaningless that way,” he pouted at you. He then pushed past you to the hallway. “You’re the one interviewing me, hopefully? Race you!”
“What the— Satoru, come back!” But he was already running to whatever empty classroom he could find. Talk about professionalism.
You marched off to Principal Yaga’s office and burst in, resulting in him nearly stabbing his own finger with a sewing needle. “Sir! I can’t do this.
“It’s 8 in the morning,” he sighed wearily. “And what is it that you can’t do?
“I cannot interview that man.”
“Why not?”
You gestured wildly at the hall, from where audible noises of furniture being dragged around could be heard. “Because it’s Gojo Satoru.”
“I see.” Yaga leaned back in his chair, staring at the hall with a transfixed look. “Well, if it’s such a problem, I’ll just have Utahime handle it.”
Uh oh.
“No, no. She’ll kill him. Literally.” And you didn’t feel like cleaning up a crime scene today.
“With killer questions?” He remarked thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. “Then it’s settled. She’ll—”
“No, sir! I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
“Yes I do,” you gritted your teeth.
You had finally found the man after looking through twenty three whole classrooms spinning rapidly on a chair. You coughed loudly and he jumped, though he sighed in relief when he saw that it was just you.
“Thought I’d get fired if the Principal saw me this way,” he said as you sat on the chair in front of him. “And I haven’t even been hired yet. Imagine that!”
“You know I could reject you as a candidate as well, right?” You rolled your eyes.
“What? No, you wouldn’t!” He shouted indignantly. “I knew I shouldn’t have eaten your last mochi.”
“What? You ate my last mochi?”
Satoru gulped, and you groaned.
You clutched your clipboard, already regretting your decision. “Alright, Mr. Gojo. Let’s begin.”
He grinned. “Of course, Mrs. Gojo. Don’t let me distract you.”
“Let’s start with the basics,” you tried to sound as professional as you could. “What experience do you have working with students?”
“Well, I’ve been mentoring the younger sorcerers unofficially,” he leaned back in his chair with a lazy smile. “Does being charming count?”
“No.”
“Really?” He tilted his head. “Because I think it’s working on you.”
You paused. “This isn’t a date,” you glared at him. “It’s an interview.”
“So you do know what a date is,” his grin widened in size. “Guess Naoya didn’t ruin you completely.”
“Why do you want this position?” You gritted your teeth.
“Figured I’d spend more time with you.”
“How do you handle indiscipline in the classroom?” You deadpanned.
“Depends,” he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Are we talking about kids or you?”
Fucking—
“Do you even want this job?”
“I do,” he said simply.
You slammed your clipboard on the table in annoyance and stood up. “You’re following me, aren’t you?” You pointed an accusing finger at his face.
He looked at you incredulously. “What? No. Why would I—” He stopped, and his tone softened. “I’m here because I’m sick of the nobility and their entitlement.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me.” He stood up as well, crossing his arms and speaking more earnestly than you had ever heard from him. “Kids from those circles? You can’t change them — they’re too far gone. But here? The students come from humble families. They still have a shot at thinking for themselves, at doing things for the right reasons. I want to make sure they don’t grow up like us.”
You were stunned into silence, but before you could respond, a voice came from the doorway.
“Congratulations, Satoru Gojo. You’re hired,” said Principal Yaga, sparing one glance into the room and then leaving again.
Satoru’s expression changed again, and he was beaming like he hadn’t just bared his soul out to you a few moments ago. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, huh?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “…Great.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
“This,” you gestured to a nearby door, “is the main classroom. It’s where first-years have their lessons. It’s equipped with barriers for live combat simulations, so the—”
“You know, you’ve got a really soothing voice,” Satoru cut in. “Ever think of switching to narration?”
“Shut up,” you shot him a glare. “Are you just here to waste my time?”
“Can’t I appreciate you a little?” He pouted, but when your look refused to soften, his shoulder sank and head drooped, and he trailed behind you like a small puppy.
So cute.
No, fuck, what the fuck are you thinking?
You walked on ahead, and the whispers from all those years ago that had remained in your thoughts seemed to bloom louder again.
You don’t even belong in this house!
We’re not kids forever, you know.
The two people I trust the most in this world!
Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Are you oka—?”
“Why are you here, Satoru?”
His smirk faltered. “I told you. I want to help shape the next generation—”
“And you’re telling me it has nothing to do with me?”
His gaze softened. “Would it be so bad if it did?”
You bit your lip, trying to shut out all the voices echoing in your head. “After what you said to me all those years ago? Because if you think that can be fixed then—”
“Stop.”
You did.
“I don’t know how old you think I was then, but it’s not like you were any older than me at that time. I want you to understand that,” he spun you around to face him, “I want to change. I want to show you how much I regret raising my voice at you that way.”
“Is that all you regret?” You asked.
He paused a bit, then fixed his sunglasses to cover his eyes completely. “No. I regret saying that—”
“Hey there!” chirped in a voice you almost didn’t recognize from how much you were focussing on Satoru’s words. Satoru’s face hardened when he saw the person waving at you from behind. You turned to look at him.
“Naoya?”
“Yes, missed me? I dropped Maki with the driver earlier than usual for you,” Naoya strode up to you, and hooked his arm with yours, snatching you away from Satoru’s grip. “Let’s walk you home, darling.”
“You know, Naoya, for someone who talks a lot about class, you’re pretty shameless when it comes to interrupting private conversations,” Satoru spat venomously, making the latter turn around to face him sneering.
“Private? Oh, forgive me,” Naoya snickered. “I didn’t realize you were finally learning how to talk to a woman. But could you get a different one? This one’s taken.”
“Oh, shut up. Isn’t it past your bedtime, Zenin? Shouldn’t you be off practicing your bowing skills or groveling to your clan?”
“Groveling?” Naoya smirked, clearly unbothered. “Not my style, Gojo. That’s more your speed, isn’t it? Or did you think running off to teach would make people forget how much of a disappointment you are?”
“Uh, okay,” you tried to interrupt. “I don’t think—”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Satoru cut you off, leaning forward with mock curiosity. “Must be hard living in a world where your only personality trait is kissing your elders’ feet.”
“Says the man who threw away everything his clan worked for,” Naoya mocked back. “Couldn’t handle the pressure of actually being useful?”
“Useful?” Satoru laughed maniacally, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “Is that what you call wagging your tail for every decision the Zenin fossils make?”
“Enough! Please. You two are acting like kids—” You stepped in between them and raised your hands.
“Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Gojo,” Naoya chided. “Trying to fix what you broke, crawling back like the desperate little rat you are.”
“Desperate, huh? And what are you? You’re just a carbon copy of every other one of your morons. Must be boring living without a spine.”
“Better a spine than whatever it is you call yourself. A disgrace to the Gojo clan. No wonder they’ve been so quiet about you. They’re probably embarrassed.”
“Okay, enough! I don’t have time for this,” you shouted.
Naoya immediately shut up. “Are we overwhelming you, darling? I can always walk you home. Gojo here,” his expression soured again, “can find his own way back.”
Satoru’s jaw tightened. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you.”
“Yeah? Then why don’t you just let her choose?”
“Of course.”
Both of them turned to you simultaneously, and you made a mental note to never interrupt their conversations ever again. Before things could escalate further, however, a sharp voice cut in.
“What in the name of all things holy, proper, appropriate, virtuous, demure, and absolutely not Utahime Iori is going on here?”
“Wow, did you just compare yourself to a holy being?” Satoru snickered, and earned a slap on the back of his head by her.
“I said ‘absolutely not’, you white-haired freak.”
“Utahime!” You sighed in relief, running to hug her around the waist, and she patted your head pitifully.
“There, there. You were stuck in this pissing contest between manchildren, weren’t you? You poor, poor soul.”
“Woman,” Naoya curled his lip, “don’t you have better things to do than stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“Like you’re doing right now?” Utahime replied coolly. “We’re leaving,” she yanked you away from them with her.
“Wait—” Naoya protested.
“Hey—” Satoru stepped forward.
“No. Bye,” Utahime turned around with her nose high in the air, and you gave a meek wave to both of them. They did cancel their plans to walk you home, but god did you feel grateful to be dragged away from their fights about winning you like an object.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Life had taken a strange, twisting turn ever since Satoru had re-entered your world. The once awkward silences during his walks with you were replaced by lively conversations now. He was speaking to you more now. He would sometimes do or say things that reminded you of how he was, but it wasn’t quite the same. He still hadn’t joined you for dinner again, despite the seat you subconsciously left empty every night at the table.
Meanwhile, Naoya was relentless in his pursuit — walking you to school, picking you up, showing up at your door with every excuse in the book, Impress to Repress: A Noble’s Guide to Obtain the Perfect Wife. Funnily enough, you didn’t suppose it would be too far-fetched to think he had that book somewhere in his room with the way he would speak with you.
“I thought you might need help carrying your books,” he’d say, flashing you that perfect smile as though you couldn’t see past the charm. Or: “A lady shouldn’t walk alone in the evening.” And his favorite: “I dropped Maki off early for you.”
It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, though. Naoya was charming and thoughtful in a way that had its appeal, but it also left you feeling like you were being swooped away too far, like he was a strong tide made to sweep you off your feet. But when the tide receded, you found yourself glancing over your shoulder, wondering if Satoru had noticed.
Just who should you love?
Naoya was kind — kinder than you’d expected him to be. He knew how to make you laugh, smile, blush all the same. But his ego often left you bristling. He would decide for you even though you wanted to do it yourself, and part of you wondered if he was just like the Kamo servants and nobles you had seen earlier.
And then there was Satoru. He’d shattered your heart three years ago with careless words. The memory still burned like a fresh wound, but there were moments now when you saw something different in him. Something softer. Something that almost made you believe he could fix what he’d broken. But it was too toxic to linger on.
You reached the teacher’s lounge and found it empty except for Utahime, who was leaning against a desk, flipping through a stack of papers. She glanced up as you entered.
“Finally decided to get a break?”
“Yeah. Did you bully all the other teachers out again?”
“Thank me for that,” she poked her tongue out as you sat down laughing.
“Actually, I came here to ask you something,” you hesitated.
“Hm?”
“Why—” you huffed. “Why did you step in that day? You know, with both of them. You were supposed to let me… choose.”
Utahime set her pen down with a soft sigh. “Because you weren’t ready.”
“What do you mean?” You frowned. “I could’ve—”
“Could you, though?” She wondered loudly. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when you’re drowning in your own head. You’re still holding onto pieces of your past with Satoru while Naoya’s practically dragging you into his future. And you? You’re just standing there, caught in the middle, hoping someone else will make the choice for you.”
You spluttered at how accurately she described your situation. “But you said—”
“I said ‘take your time’, didn’t I?”
“You did,” you sighed. “But what if it’s too late?”
“If it is, then a choice will be made for you,” her eyes darkened. “You know what clans are like. The Kamo clan even set up a proposal for Satoru, and he was just seventeen at the time.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but what could you say? If it wasn’t for your mother that day, Satoru would’ve been married off at the mere age of seventeen. The Kamo clan’s elder daughter had been married off at a young age as well, from what you had heard from their maids. Who’s to say that won’t be the case for you as well? How long could your mother shelter you after all?
Utahime softened slightly. “I stepped in that day because you needed time. But don’t think for a second that I’m going to keep doing it. This is your life. Your future. And you’re the only one who gets to decide who’s in it. So stop running in circles.”
“But I’m scared,” you croaked out.
“Scared?”
“What if I make the wrong choice?” You said quietly, looking down at your own hands.
Utahime leaned back with a small smile. “Then you deal with it, just like everyone else. But at least it’ll be your choice, not theirs.”
You nodded slightly.
“Oh, and one more thing — next time, don’t let two grown men fight over you in public. It’s embarrassing.”
You sat there, chewing on your own nail and wondering if you should laugh, cry, or start packing your bags to run away from both Satoru and Naoya entirely.
──── ୨ৎ ────
On Utahime’s advice, you had prepared two separate diaries to recount heart-fluttering scenarios you had with each man to help you ‘decide’ between them. As much as you found the whole idea ridiculous, you figured trying it won’t hurt. You had asked both Naoya and Satoru to buy you a diary each just to see how differing the outcomes would be.
Now, you picked a diary that looked posh and had a sophisticated-looking leather twine to strap it shut. The cover looked menacing, and the pages were eerily white. You did not have to second-guess to know who bought this one.
“Naoya,” you muttered, scribbling his name along the first page. You then turned to the next page, and began writing.
1. Cafe dates... he always ordered my drink without asking. Polite, attentive, charming... but also predictable.
2. Parent-teacher meeting dates? Oh god, does that even count? It’s just like what Satoru said.
You paused. Were you supposed to add Satoru’s name while writing in Naoya’s diary? Scoffing, you continued.
He made sure my notes were perfect, held doors open, smiled at every passing teacher like he was running for class president.
3. Dinner at the estate — ugh. The way he spoke to mother, like he was auditioning to be the next clan leader. Why is he so flawless?
You groaned aloud.
“Is he just too perfect or am I just being unfair?”
Annoyed, and also running out of romantic scenarios to write for Naoya’s diary, you picked up Satoru’s diary. It was like the old one you had maintained when you were thirteen. You giggled a little remembering how much you had to plan and strategize on the diary’s hidden location to keep it away from him. You couldn’t be caught dead with him knowing what was in it.
The first thing he had said when you had asked for a new diary was, “Why, is my charm too much for you that you have to pen it down so you don’t overflow?” And god, was he right.
You ran your fingers on the spine of the diary. It was your favourite colour — you wondered how he still remembered that. Did he have his own secret diary you had to find soon? You opened it and began writing.
“Where do I even start with you, you pumpkin?” You giggled at the words you had just scribbled.
1. The staff room date. Well, if you can even call it a date. You barged in uninvited, stole half my lunch, and started criticizing my handwriting like you were some literary genius. Just like you used to. What did you call it when we were kids? A calligraphy competition on every page, huh?
You remembered the scenario all too well.
The staffroom was peaceful for once, the only sounds coming from the ticking clock and the low murmur of the other teachers quietly going about their breaks. You were tucked into the corner by the windows, your lunch spread in front of you, savoring the rare moment.
And of course, it was then that the door flung open with an obnoxious swing.
Satoru Gojo.
You didn’t even have to look up.
“Well, well, look who’s having lunch all alone! No invite for me? Rude.” he smirked, sliding into the chair opposite you like he belonged there. Without waiting for your response, he reached over and casually snatched a piece of your lunch.
You sighed. “I didn’t invite you because I didn’t want you here.”
“Fair enough. Lucky for you, I’m here to grace you with my presence anyway.” He gobbled up your lunch. “Hmm, not bad. You didn’t cook this yourself, did you?”
You snatched your box away from him. “Can you not? This is my lunch.”
Satoru leaned back with a huff. “Whatever.” He noticed your open notebook. “What’s this? Lesson plans? Don’t tell me you’ve been taking this teaching thing seriously.”
“Don’t touch that!”
But he did. And he held it out of reach, flipping through the pages. “Relax, I’m just taking a look. Whoa. Your handwriting hasn’t changed a bit.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know, it looks like you’re trying to win an award for best handwriting or something.”
You flushed. “I just like making it neat!”
“Neat? Are you kidding? I remember trying to copy your style once when we were kids, and mom thought I was possessed.”
You snorted. “Maybe you were just bad at writing.”
“Oh, absolutely. I gave up halfway and just stuck to my chicken scratch.”
2. The sparring match. I hated you for pairing up with me for what? “Showing the kids how it’s done”? What does that even mean? And what kind of lunatic goes easy for three rounds and then wipes the floor with you in the fourth? But afterward, you stayed to help me fix my form. You didn’t have to... but you did.
In the grounds, you stood with your wand in your hand, and across from you stood Satoru, smirking confidently, his wand poised like an extension of his arm.
“Showing off, huh?”
“Shut up, you’re the one who needed my help in ‘teaching these kiddos’,” you shot back. “And besides, I don’t need you to show off in front of them."
“Who said I’m showing off?” He grinned. “Just here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”
He flicked his wand, sending light spells your way. You blocked them as best as you could, but he was always one step ahead.
“You’re not even trying!” You shouted.
“Of course not, I’m just giving you a chance.”
But then, without warning, he shifted his stance and cast a powerful spell that knocked your wand from your hand.
“What the—?”
“Language.”
“—hell”
“Just showing you how it’s done,” he shrugged, and you gritted your teeth.
He stepped closer, handing you your wand. Reluctantly, you took your wand.
“Since when did you become better than me at this?” You asked him.
“Since you forgot your old self among your new troubles,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.
3. The stargazing. God, Satoru, you’re insufferable. Who even points out constellations while lying on the grass and makes up fake names for them just to make someone laugh?
You laid on the grass, watching the night sky stretch endlessly above you. Satoru was beside you, dramatically pointing at every star he could set his eyes on.
“You see that one? That’s the Satoru constellation. Handsome, charming, and clearly the best in the sky.”
“I don’t think that’s a real constellation,” you giggled.
“It is if I say it is,” he pulled a face.
“Alright, alright,” you shook your head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, here you are. Lying next to me, staring at my constellation.”
You stayed quiet, watching as his expression softened. He turned to you, lifting his head with the palm of his hand and looking right into your eyes with his bright blue ones.
“You know,” he whispered. “Stars are kind of overrated.”
You turned to look at him. “Why’s that?”
He spared half a glance at the sky before leaning in to nuzzle into your neck, but he stopped short, barely a few inches away from your skin. “Because I’ve been staring at something brighter all night.”
Your breath hitched, but before you could respond, he turned back to the sky, his usual grin breaking the moment. “I’m just a chill guy, just thinking, you know.”
“About what?” You asked curiously.
“How someone as brilliant as you still gets stars in her eyes every time she looks up.”
“Wow, that’s surprisingly poetic of you.”
“Right?” He gushed over himself. “Don’t get used to it though. I have a reputation to maintain.”
“There it is,” you smiled.
“But seriously,” he laid his head down on the grass right next to your chest. “I don’t mind the stars. I just think the view’s better when you’re in it.”
You turned away, pretending to admire the flowers, but the heat in your cheeks might have given you away.
Why did you look at me like that, like I was the only star that mattered?
──── ୨ৎ ────
Maki leaned against your desk, watching you intently. “So... what's going on with you and Naoya?”
You widened your eyes. She had insisted on staying back to help you rearrange the chairs after class, yet here she was now, asking you questions about your personal life.
“Why does that matter?” You asked, sounding more defensive than you had intended to be.
“He’s from my clan,” she said, as if that was enough of a reason for you to talk about the weird love triangle you had landed yourself in. She sat on your desk, swinging her legs up and down.
“Look, I... I don’t really know. I mean, it’s definitely more than what I expected, but I’m not sure where it’s going.”
Maki raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line as if she was considering something. She seemed rather skeptical.
“Alright, just don’t martyr yourself for him.”
Your stomach twisted at her words. Did she even realize what she was saying? You looked up at her, trying to read her expression, but it was hard to tell what she was really thinking.
“What does that even mean?” You asked incredulously.
Maki sighed, pushing herself off from the desk. She walked a few steps towards you. “He’s not worth it,” she said, and then she left the classroom just like that.
What the hell?
You’d known all this while the Zenin clan was among the more orthodox and conservative ones, and you considered yourself lucky to be part of the Gojo clan, one of the more lenient ones. But seeing a young girl, a student you had been teaching for a while nonetheless, voice out a cryptic message, or rather a plea for help from misogynistic fucks, perhaps, made you second-guess the whole idea all over again.
Just what has this girl been through?
Later that day, you spotted Maki and Naoya leaving together, and felt the pit in your stomach deepen.
Something was not right.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Your ears had perked up when you had been told by your mother that there was another meeting of the clans of the nobility, but that wasn’t what had you interested. It was the fact that all the clans would be present, and that included the Ieri, Iori and Geto clans. As much as you were sure your friends would hate to attend this stupid meeting, Satoru’s suggestion of sneaking out made you far more excited than you should be.
So here you were, writing letters to Shoko and Suguru to attend the meeting at all costs after barking Utahime’s ear off to do so as well. You crumpled your parchment up and threw it in a corner for the fifth time.
What were you even supposed to write to friends you’ve grown apart from?
You huffed and began scribbling on fresh parchment once more.
Dear Shoko,
I can already picture you rolling your eyes at this letter. “What is she up to now after not keeping contact for ages?” you’re probably thinking. Well, for once, it’s not mischief, or boy troubles, or even weird investigations cough cough.
It’s been so long since we last saw each other, and I’ve missed you more than words can say. Remember when we used to sneak out of classes just to sit under the old tree and complain about literally everyone? Things have changed so much since then — we’ve changed so much. But I think a part of me still hopes that when I see you, it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.
There’s a clan meeting coming up (ugh, I know), and I heard your clan will be attending. Please tell me you’re coming. I’ll even tolerate your sarcasm if it means we can catch up properly. Bring your flask, too — I have a feeling we’ll need it. Oak tree, Iori Estate, don’t forget.
I can’t wait to see you again. Write back if you have the time, or just show up and surprise me. Either way, I’ll be waiting.
With love and exasperation, Your favourite patient
Good enough, you thought, but Shoko probably won’t even read all of that. Eh well it didn’t matter anyway.
Dear Suguru,
How have you been? Really been? I’ve missed having someone to talk to who actually listens. I’m sure your clan keeps you busy, but I hope you’ve found a moment or two to breathe.
There’s a clan meeting coming up, and I heard the Geto Clan will be attending. Just the thought of seeing you again after all these years makes me... well, nervous, if I’m honest. Not because of anything bad, but because there’s so much I want to say, so much I’ve wanted to ask you.
Do you remember the last time we all sat together, back when things were simpler? I miss that. I miss us. Maybe this meeting will give us a chance to find that again — at least a little.
I hope you’ll be there. No pressure, of course, but if you come, we’ll be waiting under the oak tree out back in the Iori estate. We’d really like to see you.
Take care of yourself, Suguru. And don’t overthink this letter as much as I overthought writing it.
Yours, Your favourite troublemaker
──── ୨ৎ ────
You sat across from Satoru in the carriage to the meeting in silence. His eyes were fixed on the passing scenery outside, but you could tell from the way his fingers fidgeted against his knee that his mind was elsewhere — most likely at the fact that both his mother and father were in another carriage together.
Over the years, their relationship had grown even more strained than it had become on that unfortunate day. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like for either of them to be forced to act like a healthy couple for the sake of a few hours in front of thousands of other people.
“Satoru?” You called softly, and he snapped out of his thoughts.
“Hm?”
You patted his knee. “They’ll be fine.”
He huffed a short laugh, turning his head just enough to glance at you. “You’re too optimistic. What if they explode at each other in the middle of the meeting? Or worse, drag the entire Gojo name through the mud?”
“Then you can just blame me,” you shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. “Say I tripped and caused a distraction, or spilled tea on someone important, or whatever it is that nobles dislike.”
“Oh? And they would believe that? Miss perfect student?” He cracked a small smile.
“I’m not a student anymore,” you stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed.
“Yeah, but I don’t think that would really improve things.”
“It might. Chaos is a great way to bond people. Just look at us!”
He turned fully to face you now in amusement. “That’s your big plan? Turn the meeting into a comedy night?”
“If it gets you to stop worrying for five seconds, then yes,” you smiled.
He leaned back in his seat, the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“Maybe. But ridiculous is what you need right now.”
He held your gaze for a moment, the storm in his eyes quieting just a little. “Thanks… for, you know, trying.”
“Trying?” You gasped as if offended. “I excel at this. Just wait — by the end of this night, you’ll owe me for single-handedly saving the Gojo name.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
You tiptoed through the dimly lit corridor, Satoru trailing behind you with his usual cocky grin. He wasn’t exactly stealthy, but he was trying his best, even if his ‘best’ meant occasionally tripping over his own feet and knocking random armours on the way.
“This is dumb,” he whispered to you. “We should just portal her out.”
“No! Tha’ll make it too obvious,” you whisper-shouted. “We’re supposed to be discreet.”
“You’re whispering like a toddler playing hide-and-seek,” he snorted and you shushed him. “That’s the opposite of discreet.”
“Shut up. Now where’s the oak tree?”
“Out?”
“Obviously, genius, but where’s ‘out’?”
“Uhhhh,” he dragged out his response before pointing to a very clear exit. “There? You didn’t see that yet?”
You chose not to dignify that jab with a response, pushing open the door to where Shoko and Suguru were supposed to wait for you as per your letters.
“Fuck, it’s dark in here,” your voice echoed for some reason.
“Careful, princess. Wouldn’t want you to be caught swearing like you’re not from a noble clan,” Satoru snickered, and you wanted to whack him on the head like Utahime had done the other day.
“About time,” a bored voice said, making the two of you jump and turn in horror, staring at the darkness to make out the figures that were inching closer and closer to you. “We thought you chickened out from what you said in the letter.”
“Sh-Shoko?”
“Duh.”
“Shoko!” You ran up to her as she came into the light of the estate, hugging her like your life depended on it. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too,” she patted your shoulder. “Did you two get lost, or were you off making out in a broom closet or something?”
“What?” You deadpanned. “I haven’t seen you in years, and this is how you greet me?”
Suguru grinned from beside her. “I mean, she’s not entirely wrong,” he gave a light punch on the chest to Satoru. “You’re a little flushed.”
“See?” Satoru smirked. “I told you we should’ve taken the broom closet route. Much more efficient.”
You groaned. “Leave that! Utahime’s stuck in some ridiculous ceremony, and we need a plan to get her out.”
“How bad could it be?” Shoko said. “Light some incense, wave your hands, maybe sacrifice a virgin or two, chant a bit, and she’s done, right?”
“You’ve clearly never been to an Iori ritual,” Suguru replied. “They’re like a cult, but boring.”
“Oh, they’re worse than boring,” said Satoru. “They make you kneel for hours, bowing and chanting. And if you screw up, they start over. It’s like boot camp for spiritualists.”
“Exactly,” you said, sighing. “So, we need a distraction. Something big enough to pull her out but small enough not to get us executed by her clan.”
“I say we fake an emergency,” suggested Suguru. “Like, ‘Oh no, a curse is loose!’ Then she’s got to leave.”
“Too obvious,” Shoko lit a cigarette. “They’ll know it’s fake when Satoru doesn’t stop the ‘curse’ immediately.”
“How about an eating contest?” proposed Satoru, immediately earning an actual punch from Shoko.
“What if we convince them that Utahime has to perform an exorcism somewhere else?” asked Suguru. “Like, say, the riverside.”
You snapped your fingers at his brilliance. “Yes! Perfect! We’ll say her ‘spiritual energy’ is needed for a very urgent ritual. Shoko, you’ll pretend to be an elder. Suguru, you’re the messenger. Satoru, just— stand there and look important.”
“Excuse me? I am always important.”
“Anyway—” Shoko interrupted, taking a long drag. “I bought props just because.” She pulled out her bag and unzipped it. Out came tumbling fake moustaches, eyebrows, caps, cloaks and god knows what.
“What the—” you were stunned. “Why did you get this stuff?”
“Told you, just because,” she shrugged. “It’s a stupid clan union meeting. Thought we’d need some entertainment.”
“Shoko, you’re a genius.”
The four of you tried to find the ritual hall amongst the many rooms of the estate. After bullying a random security guard and having him lead you to the hall, Satoru dramatically banged the door open. The elders of the Iori clan all turned to look at the four of you, and Utahime, who was kneeling in the center surrounded by them, glanced up and immediately put her head back down with curses disguised as a cough.
The air was thick with incense and your eyes were burning. Shoko scratched her fake beard, and stepped forward to speak in a loud, rumbling voice. “Elders of the Iori clan!” She lifted her hands up and flailed her arms around wildly to address them. “There has been a disturbance under your watch,” she thundered, “in the northern woods, of which none can speak.”
“A disturbance?” A grandma squeaked. “What kind, Master Yoo?”
You had no idea who Master Yoo was, but if this plan was working, you didn’t care either.
“It shall remain classified,” Suguru stepped forward slowly with a hunchback and a stick. “None can speak of it without endangering everyone else.”
“It is the kind,” you bowed to them, “that only the heir of a true princess born to a clan as unique as yours, in the shadow of an oak as old as yours and for a purpose as grave as this may resolve.”
“Us?” An old man exclaimed. “So you have chosen us?”
“Your heir, to be exact,” Suguru clarified.
“Ah, well, then, we shall send the boy—”
“The girl, please,” you deadpanned.
The elders blinked. “Why the girl?”
“Her energy is unique and, uh, mesmerizing,” Shoko boomed, making them fall to their knees. She dramatically walked to the squeaking grandma and grabbed her by both collars of her kimono. “Your heiress has been chosen by the spirits of the longgone.”
“Chosen, you say?” She squeaked in response. “Why wasn’t this revealed earlier?”
Satoru sighed dramatically while you lifted Utahime up. “Do you always question the will of the spirits? No wonder they never bless this place.”
The elders were flustered. They waved Utahime away. She rose stiffly and, still muttering long strings of curses, followed you all out.
Minutes later, the five of you were lounging by the riverside, the cool night breeze rustling the trees. A bottle of sake was being passed between you, the props of earlier long discarded.
“A divine mission? Really?” Utahime was exasperated. “That’s the best you could come up with?”
You laughed, and Shoko said, “Well, it worked, that’s all that matters.”
“You’re welcome by the way,” Satoru grinned. My ‘important face’ is the only thing that made the whole act believable.”
“That’s because you’re aging,” you sighed. “Aging enough to be one of those elders by now.”
“Owie, that hurt.”
“Your face is important for comedy, not authority, Satoru,” said Suguru. Then, he raised his drink. “To divine missions, friendships, and chaos wherever we go.”
“Cheers!”
The moon was still high, and you wondered how long it would take for your clans to realize that all of you were missing from the main event. The air was filled with the faint sounds of laughter and clinking bottles as your friends enjoyed themselves nearby. Satoru, however, had wandered off to the water’s edge. He crouched, plucking smooth stones from the shore and skipping them across the surface with surprising precision.
You hesitated for a moment, then walked over, unable to resist teasing him.
“What’s this?” You asked playfully. “The Gojo Satoru, retreating from the crowd to have a quiet moment with his thoughts? I thought you thrived on attention.”
Satoru did not look back at you. “Oh, I do,” he half-chuckled. “But I also thrive on balance. Can’t be too perfect all the time — it makes people insecure.”
You snorted. “How generous of you to consider the feelings of the peasants.”
He glanced back at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “See? You get it.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re just here to keep the river from feeling too plain without your dazzling presence.”
He laughed, straightening up and brushing his hands on his pants. “Alright, you caught me. I was giving them all a break from my charm. But what’s your excuse? Couldn’t handle the drinking game?”
“More like I couldn’t handle Suguru trying to explain his ‘philosophical approach’ to sake. What did he say again? ‘Is the sake good because you’re dreaming, or are you dreaming because you’re drinking good sake?’ My brain was melting.”
“Fair point. His monologues can be,” he grinned, “intense.”
You stood beside him now, staring out at the water. He tossed another stone, this one skipping three times before sinking. “Is this what you do when no one’s watching? Brood by the river and play with rocks?”
“First of all, it’s called skipping stones, not playing with rocks. Second, brooding? Me? That’s your job.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re the one standing there like the protagonist of a tragic romance novel, sighing at the stars. Very dramatic.”
You nudged his arm, rolling your eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you’re still here.”
There was a comfortable silence over both of you. The night felt quieter now, the laughter from the group fading into the background. You shifted, suddenly aware of how close you were standing.
“...You okay?” You asked softly.
He turned to you, his usual grin faltering just slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. Just feels like there’s something on your mind.”
He held your gaze for a moment, then looked back at the water. “Maybe. But nothing a little stone-skipping and your terrible jokes can’t fix.”
“Terrible?” You grinned. “I’ll have you know I’m the funniest person you love.”
“You’re the only person I love.”
Your smile faded a bit as you looked into his eyes, and he did the same. Suddenly, everything you did was making you feel embarrassed — your breathing, blinking, shaking hands… until he grasped your fingers and put them on his chest.
“Do you feel that?”
Yes.
I feel the love.
You nodded, and he smiled a little. He tipped your chin up to meet your gaze. “How about we ditch the ditching of our super important clan meeting?”
“There’s nothing I wanna do more,” you breathed.
You and Satoru were sneaking back toward the main hall, your laughter still echoing softly as you wiped imaginary dust off his shoulder.
“I can’t believe you slipped on that rock,” you poked your tongue out at him. “All that talk about being graceful—”
“It was one rock, and it was slippery,” he cut you off. “Besides, I saved it. You’re the one who almost fell in the river trying not to laugh.”
“Saved it? You looked like a baby seal trying to ice skate.”
His mock-offended gasp earned another burst of laughter from you. But as you approached the entrance to the meeting hall, your mirth faded. Standing just outside the large carved doors was Satoru’s mother, speaking to a few people. But then she turned around, and her piercing eyes narrowed as they landed on the two of you.
“You two,” she said sharply, and you winced in unison. “How fortunate you both decided to rejoin us.”
“Fortunate?” Satoru was unfazed. “Or just impeccable timing, Mother? You know I always aim to impress.”
“Your absence was noted.” She ignored him completely and turned to look at you. The subtle scrutiny in her eyes made you feel like you’d been caught sneaking sweets from the pantry.
“We just needed some air after all the formalities,” you added hastily.
“Then I trust you’ve had enough of it.”
Without waiting for a reply, Satoru’s mother coolly turned and swept back into the hall. Satoru let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was fun.”
Shaking your head, you followed him into the hall. The hum of conversation and clinking glasses immediately engulfed you. The room was grand, the walls lined with banners representing the noble clans in attendance. You recognized faces from the Kamo and Iori clans, along with a handful of others. The two of you slid into unoccupied chairs near the back, just out of your parents’ immediate line of sight.
“Let me guess,” Satoru whispered to you. “Five minutes in here, and you’ll be begging to sneak out again.”
“Ten minutes. I’m trying to behave.”
“You? Behave? That’s new.”
True to his prediction, boredom set in quickly though. The speeches droned on about alliances and tradition, and Satoru began fidgeting. At one point, he caught your eye and mouthed, ‘Let’s go.’
Before you could answer, he grabbed your hand and led you toward the balcony doors. He tugged you through the crowd, weaving around clan leaders and dignitaries with the ease of someone who knew exactly how untouchable they were. You barely managed to stifle a laugh at the old nosy lady he had pushed as he pushed them open and pulled you into the cool night air.
“Satoru — people are watching!”
“Good. They can admire how stunning you look while I steal you away.”
You stood against the railing, the city lights below shimmering like scattered stars, though none of them could light you up like the man in front of you did. Satoru leaned beside you, his elbow brushing against yours.
“Do you ever wonder why they even bother with these meetings? It’s just a bunch of old people pretending they’re still important.”
“Careful,” you smiled. “Those ‘old people’ include your parents.”
“Apologies. Allow me to rephrase: a bunch of old people... and my extraordinarily distinguished parents.”
You laughed softly. “It’s not like you and me here are any better. What is to guarantee that I won’t be bored here?
“Bored? Here, with me? I’m hurt. My company is way more exciting than whatever that was,” he gestured wildly towards the hall. He leaned against the railing, his silver hair catching the moonlight like it was showing itself off. “And besides, you’re the one who kept looking at me like you wanted to escape. Don’t deny it.”
You crossed your arms, raising a brow. “Oh, I was looking at you? Pretty sure it was the other way around, Gojo.”
His grin widened, his eyes narrowing in mock challenge. “Caught me. Can you blame me, though? You’re kind of hard not to stare at.”
The way he said it — too casual, too confident — made your heart skip a beat. Just like it always would when he was around. Just like always.
“Do you ever get tired of flirting?”
Without missing a beat, he replied, “Do you ever get tired of pretending you don’t like it?”
You opened your mouth to retort, but nothing came out. He tilted his head, watching you with an expression that was both smug and softer than usual. “Speechless? That’s a first. I’ll take it — and your blushing face — as a win. See, you like my balcony adventures!”
You sputtered, trying to deny it, but he only laughed, the sound low and warm in the quiet night.
“Maybe I just like the view.”
“Flirting back now?” said Satoru, and you furrowed your brows at him. “I knew you’d cave eventually.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“Too late now,” he grabbed your hand for a second time that night. “I think I like this better,” he leaned in.
The space between you felt smaller. His voice was quieter as he added, “I meant what I said near the riverside. I always will.”
A hand wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t care less about the number of people that could walk in on you at this exact moment. You inched closer to him, too shy to ask for what you wanted. But he did so as well, granting you the permission you needed.
You closed your eyes, parting your lips.
A sister.
No, that was a lie.
He loved you.
Your lips brushed against each other’s for half a second before—
“Oh, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
You both jumped slightly, and Satoru pulled back, his expression immediately darkening. You turned to see Naoya strolling toward you with his usual smug smile.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” he bowed in front of you, kissing the back of your hand like he owned it. “Care to join me for a dance?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but Satoru stepped forward, his hand still lightly brushing your other one. “Actually, we were in the middle of something—”
“I’m sure it can wait. After all, a Zenin doesn’t ask twice.”
You glanced between them, and with a resigned sigh, you forced a polite smile and stepped toward Naoya, your heart sinking as you felt Satoru’s hand fall away.
“...I’ll be back,” you said to Satoru.
His only response was a tight nod. As Naoya led you back inside, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Satoru stood there on the balcony, his hands in his pockets, watching as you disappeared into the crowd.
Naoya led you onto the dance floor with confident strides. “You’re light on your feet. A perfect match for me, wouldn’t you agree?”
You bit back a retort, focusing instead on the music and not the way his hand lingered just a little too long on your waist. You still weren’t sure whether the tingling on your hand was because of Naoya’s little kiss or due to Satoru’s touches earlier. And you didn’t get a chance to ponder on it either.
Naoya twirled you out dramatically, and when he pulled you back in, his lips brushed your knuckles in a gesture too showy to be sincere.
From the corner of your eye, you caught Satoru leaning against a pillar stiffly. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. His jaw was tightened as he watched Naoya spin you across the floor.
“Unbelievable,” you read his lips.
But if he had a problem, he’d say something, you thought. Or was he too much of a coward to do so?
Naoya dipped you — dramatically, of course — and you couldn’t miss the way Satoru’s expression darkened, his knuckles whitening as his hands clenched into fists. Finally, he pushed off the pillar, striding toward the two of you.
“Mind if I take over?” He said smoothly. “The lady looks like she’s had enough of your theatrics.”
“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear her complaining.”
“You didn’t ask,” you said flatly.
Naoya’s smirk faltered just enough to give you a flicker of satisfaction before Satoru stepped between you. “Thanks for warming her up for me, man.”
Without waiting for a response, Satoru took your hand and placed his other hand on your waist, effortlessly guiding you into the next step.
“Jealous much?” You teased him.
“Jealous? Nah. Just couldn’t stand watching him butcher a perfectly good waltz.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. At first, the dance felt awkward. His hand was just a little too tight on your waist, and your steps were slightly out of sync.
“For someone so full of himself, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you said.
“Excuse me?” He replied, mock-offended. “I’m amazing at this. You’re just distracted by how good I look.”
“Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”
But as the music slowed, and the crowd dispersed, his teasing grin softened. His hand on your waist relaxed as his thumb brushed against the fabric of your dress.
“You didn’t answer me earlier.”
That caught you off guard. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the noise of the room faded into the background.
“You didn't ask.”
The corners of his mouth lifted, not in his usual cocky smirk, but in something gentler, more genuine.
“Well, then, I will. Do you still… you know?”
“You know what?”
“Love me like you did?”
Your feet stopped.
Did you?
Or more than that, should you?
“Is it bad if I do?”
“No, not bad at all,” he smiled.
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“Why did you? That day. Why?” You asked him softly the one question you had been dying to ask for three whole years.
“I… Fuck. Naoya, him, I couldn’t—” his hands dropped from your waist, and you flinched a little, moving a few feet back, realizing that your question might have messed your moment up. “Angel—”
“Attention, please,” Naoya clinked a glass loudly. “I have an announcement I’d like to make here.”
The hum of conversation in the room died down as all eyes turned toward him. You and Satoru both turned to look at him.
“This is a moment I’ve been looking forward to all of tonight. All my life, I have wanted nothing more than to serve the woman of my dreams, and tonight, I wish to solidify not only the bonds between our families but also the bond I share with this remarkable woman.”
He turned to you, his smile widening as he reached into his pocket. He strutted towards you. Your blood ran cold as he pulled out a velvet box, dropping to one knee in one fluid motion. Naoya opened the box, revealing a glittering ring) “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife, Ms Gojo?”
The room erupted into soft gasps and murmurs of approval, particularly from the Zenin elders. You stood frozen, every pair of eyes in the room drilling into you. All of them, all their stares and expectations felt suffocating.
Your eyes looked at Satoru’s and he seemed like he wanted you to say no. You looked at the elders and they all wanted you to say yes. You looked at your mother, and her eyes were glossy, yet you would take that more than anything else at this moment. Because they didn’t have your answer ready for you in them. They wanted to let you choose.
“I… I don’t—” you were barely audible. Could everyone just look away from you?
The words stuck in your throat. The weight of Naoya’s proposal, the stares—
“I don’t know.”
The collective murmurs grew louder and confused. For a split second, Naoya’s expression flickered. He looked irritated with your answer. But just as quickly, he smoothed it over, standing and pulling you into a light embrace.
He laughed softly and brushed his lips against your cheek. “She’s overwhelmed. It’s a lot to take in, I understand. These things can’t be rushed, can they?” He turned to the crowd, his tone light and reassuring. “She’s just shy, that’s all. I’ll give her all the time she needs.”
Polite applause broke out, and the pressure in the room became unbearable. Naoya’s hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you toward a quieter corner, and you wanted to wrench it away from your body.
But you couldn’t. Your eyes darted to Satoru. He hadn’t moved. His icy gaze was locked on Naoya, his jaw tense, his entire body screaming for you. And yet, beneath the frustration in his expression, there was something else — something raw and unspoken.
Something you recall seeing in your own eyes.
Three years ago.
You finally cornered Satoru in the training courtyard after quite a while of him dodging your presence for the rest of the night. He was leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, staring at a fountain in the middle of the gardens.
“Satoru.” You stepped closer to him. “Why have you been avoiding me?”
He didn’t even glance at you, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “I’ve been busy.”
“That’s a lie and you know it. You’ve been avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague.”
Satoru finally turned to you, and said with a bitter laugh, “What do you want me to say? That everything’s fine? That I’m thrilled about everything that’s happening?”
“You could at least tell me the truth! I don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand? Fine. Do you know how hard it is for me to see you with him?” His voice cracked slightly, the anger giving way to something new. “To know he gets to touch you? To see you smile at him like that?”
You froze, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave. “Satoru…”
But he didn’t let you finish. He took a step back from you. “You didn’t even reject him. You stood there, and you let him—”
He stopped himself, his voice breaking off. He looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
“I didn’t know what to do! Everyone was watching, and I—”
“You should’ve said no!” He shouted. The silence that followed was deafening. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to rein in his emotions. Then, he whispered quietly, as if about to cry any second. “You should’ve said no.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
The Gojo estate was eerily quiet as you made your way to Satoru’s mother’s quarters. Your heart pounded in your chest. You knocked softly, and her calm voice invited you inside.
Satoru’s mother was seated by a low table, a cup of tea in hand. She looked up, her eyes softening as she took in your disheveled state. “Darling, what’s the matter?”
You sat across from her, your hands trembling as you tried to form the words. You choked a sob. “Did I make a mistake?”
“Mistake?”
“By not saying no to Naoya right away?”
Her expression didn’t waver, but she leaned forward, placing a comforting hand over yours. “You were caught off guard,” she said gently. “Anyone would’ve been overwhelmed in that situation."
Tears welled in your eyes again, and you shook your head. “But now I’ve hurt Satoru. He… he’s so angry with me. I don’t even know how to fix this.”
She sighed softly, her grip on your hand tightening slightly. “Listen to me, dear. Voicing your uncertainty was not a mistake. It’s far better to be honest about your feelings than to make a choice you might regret.”
You wiped at your tears. Her words were comforting, but they were not enough to ease the ache in your chest.
“But what if I choose wrong? What if I lose everything?”
She stood then, moving to sit beside you. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you, and you took this moment to let it all out. You cried on her shoulder, staining her dress, but she didn’t care. She merely held you and let you cry and scream all you wanted.
“If you choose to marry into the Zenin clan, I won’t stop you. But make sure it’s truly what you want. Not what they want, not what Naoya wants. What you want.” You clung to her, your tears soaking into her sleeve. “As for Satoru…” she smiled faintly. “He’s stubborn, but he’ll come around. He just needs to be reminded that he’s not losing you.”
The school courtyard was quiet that morning. The winter night had forced most of the kids to stay indoors, and the chilly effect of the weather had perhaps drowned out their usual noise. You were lost in thought, replaying the events of the previous evening, when Maki appeared in front of you.
Her stance was confident as always, but her eyes betrayed her. They were rimmed with red, and her face was pale with exhaustion.
“We need to talk.”
“What?”
“I said we need to talk.”
You shrugged and nodded, signalling her to begin speaking.
She took a deep breath in. “Don’t do it. Don’t marry into the Zenin family.” The words came out in a desperate rush.
“Maki, I—”
“You don’t understand. They’ll destroy you. They’ll take everything good about you and crush it until there’s nothing left.”
Her hands were clenched into fists, trembling at her sides. You reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away.
“I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. The way they treat women, like we’re nothing but tools. They’ll smile to your face and stab you in the back the moment you’re no longer useful.” Her voice cracked, and she stopped, her back to you.
You called her gently. “Maki…”
She turned to face you, tears spilling down her cheeks despite her obvious effort to hold them back. “You’re stronger than me, I know that. But they’ll find a way to break you too. Please… don’t let them.”
The raw emotion in her voice shattered something inside you. You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her, holding her tightly as she cried into your shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, Maki,” you whispered to her. “For everything they’ve done to you."
She clung to you for a moment before pulling back, wiping at her tears furiously. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. Don’t let them win.”
You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. As you watched her walk away, shoulders hunched against the weight of her past, you couldn’t help but wonder what horrors this brave girl had endured — and what kind of future awaited her if she stayed under the Zenin family’s thumb.
──── ୨ৎ ────
“What the hell are they doing here?” you whisper-screamed to your mother. Your voice was trembling despite your attempt to sound composed.
The last time the Kamo clan had graced the Gojo estate with their presence, it ended disastrously. More than that, he was here — the face of your nightmares, the man who had haunted your memories for over a decade.
You clenched your hands in your lap, nails biting into your palms as you stared down at the tatami mat, praying for this to be over. But no prayer could save you now. Not when you were practically being forced to bow in front of Kamo Daijiro, the man who had shattered your childhood before it had even begun.
Kamo Daijiro grinned wickedly as he took his seat, his wife Lady Akane and his daughter trailing behind like his shadows. His voice was oily and smug as he broke the silence.
“Ah, the Gojo family. Always full of surprises, aren’t we?” He said mockingly. “First, a marriage proposal with my daughter, Alina, rejected outright by your mother. What a waste of time, huh?”
The room seemed to blur around you. His words faded, replaced by the echoes of the past: the cold stone walls of the basement, the suffocating darkness, the metallic clink of chains binding your wrists.
“Stay quiet,” his voice whispered in your memory. You could feel his hand gripping your arm, dragging you down those steps into hell. Your chest tightened. You blinked rapidly, trying to ground yourself, but his next words yanked you back into the present.
“And now, of course, the Zenin proposal with you.” His gaze landed on you sharply his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. “Two rejected proposals. Not every family is lucky enough to fail so spectacularly, hmm?”
Your heart pounded painfully, the edges of your vision going white. The scars on your fingertips throbbed — perhaps from the rough stones you had used to carve evidences of your torture on the walls of the Kamo estate.
“Sell her,” his voice echoed in your mind. “She’ll fetch a good price.”
The memory hit you like a punch to the gut. You were three years old, crying for your mother, and he was laughing. Laughing as strangers examined you like a product, bartering for your life.
Why did you remember the worst moments of your life?
Satoru’s — no, your mother’s voice broke through the haze. “Speak something sensible or leave, Kamo.” Her words were firm, but you could hear the strain in her voice. She was trying to protect you, but she seemed to realize that even she couldn’t erase the ghosts of the past from your mind.
Kamo Daijiro tilted his head, feigning politeness as he bowed slightly. “Ah, but you should be made aware of what you’ve caused, Lady Gojo. Two lives ruined because of a stupid fantasy between your kids.”
“Enough, Daijiro,” said Satoru’s father.
You blinked, startled by the unexpected intervention. Satoru’s father rarely spoke, let alone in defense of his family. Wasn’t he the one hellbent on getting Satoru married just a few years ago? Perhaps his time in isolation in his room made him realize his mistake.
“Let me remind you that the Gojo family does not bend to the whims of the Kamo Clan. We never have and never will. So whatever you think, we do not care. Yet you cannot stand here under our roof and speak that way about us, Kamo. Leave.”
Daijiro’s smirk faltered,. The confidence in his posture waned for a fraction of a second. But that moment was enough for you to breathe again. Your mother’s hand slipped over yours under the table, grounding you back to reality, your present away from the horrors of your past.
As Daijiro stood to leave, he glanced at you one last time. His eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction.
“You’ll never escape me, little one.”
Beat.
Did he know?
The Kamo family took their leave, but one pair of eyes lingered. Kamo Alina.
She hadn’t said a word throughout her father’s tirade, but now her gaze bore into you, there was something haunted in her expression, something that wasn’t there three years ago when she had tried to charm Satoru out from under your nose.
You didn’t trust it one bit.
You found yourself alone in the garden after the fiasco from earlier. The crisp air nipped at your skin, but it wasn’t enough to shake the phantom memories of The Kamos’ voices echoing in your mind.
A soft rustle behind you made you turn. Alina stood there, her posture hesitant. That was new — gone was the confident, smug girl who used to mock you mercilessly as a child.
“You don’t have the Gojo surname.”
It wasn’t a question. Her tone was quiet, almost confused.
You stiffened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. “Why does it matter?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she stepped closer, her hands wringing nervously. “It’s just... strange. You’ve lived with them for so long, haven’t you? And you were even engaged to… you know. Shouldn’t you have their name by now?”
The words cut deeper than you expected. You knew why you didn’t have their name. Why Lady Gojo had never officially adopted you despite raising you like her own. Because your past was a stain that no amount of time could wash away, and your future a fate you wanted to live.
But you didn’t say that. Not to Alina. Not to anyone.
Instead, you crossed your arms, forcing a smirk. “Why do you care? Planning to make fun of me again, like when we were kids?”
Her expression faltered, and for the first time, you saw something genuine in her eyes. Regret. “I…” she paused. “I’m not here to make fun of you.”
You blinked, caught off guard by her tone. It wasn’t what you expected, and that unsettled you more than anything else.
“I just... I don’t understand. Why aren’t you proud to be a Gojo? To have a family like that?”
Because I’m not one of them.
Not yet, anyway, a voice in your head hoped.
But you didn’t say that either. Instead, you looked away, your voice colder than you intended. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She flinched like you had just yelled at her, and her hands dropped to her sides.
Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that she might understand, more than you gave her credit for. Because for all her faults, she wasn’t Kamo Daijiro. Or Kamo Akane. Or those auctioners. She wasn’t the one who had abandoned you, sold you off, abused you like you were a piece of meat.
And then it hit you. The thought that had been nagging at the back of your mind ever since you saw her face.
Kamo Akane’s daughter. That was who Alina was. Which made her...
Your half-sister.
The realization made your stomach drop. Your eyes widened at nothing in particular, and your fingers began shaking.
Sister?
All this time, you never gave a thought about it. But it was so obvious, so clear.
Your blood.
The Kamo blood.
You gulped. No, never. Never the Kamo blood. You didn’t want to be associated with the Kamo clan, not in any way.
“I guess you won’t tell me, will you?” Her voice broke the silence, and you glanced back at her. There was no malice in her expression, no smugness, just confusion.
“No. I won’t,” you responded firmly.
She nodded slowly, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Maybe I deserve that.”
She turned to leave, and for a moment, you almost stopped her.
Almost.
The Gojo estate was unusually quiet that week since the chaos of the Kamo family’s visit was finally behind you. Yet, you couldn’t sleep at all at night. So you did what you always do. You wandered the halls aimlessly, walking from door to door in search of sleep.
You paused outside the study, hearing low voices.
“...I know I failed you, Satoru.”
Your breath caught. That was Satoru’s father.
“I was so focused on the family, on tradition,” his father continued with regret. “I thought I was protecting you, ensuring our legacy would thrive. But all I did was push you toward a life you didn’t want. A life you didn’t deserve.”
Satoru’s response was softer than usual. “You didn’t just push me — you forced my hand. That engagement with Alina... I didn’t even have a say.”
There was a heavy silence.
“I know,” his father finally admitted. “And when your mother stood there and defied me... I hated myself for it. Because deep down, I knew she was right.”
You inched closer to the door. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping on this intimate conversation between a father and a son, but you knew you would have stayed awake for a couple more hours if you didn’t hear this completely.
His father sighed with a sound that was weary and old. “I wanted to say this to you for a long time. I’m proud of you, Satoru. Not because of what you are, but because of who you are. Strong, stubborn, and a lot like your mother.”
There was a soft chuckle from Satoru, tinged with disbelief. “Like mother? That’s a first.”
His father continued. “I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. But I want you to know, I’ll never stand in your way again. Whatever you choose for yourself, for your future... I’ll support it.”
You could hear the emotion in Satoru’s voice, even as he tried to hide it. “That’s all I ever wanted, Dad.”
Another pause, this one heavy with unspoken words.
“I’m sorry it took me this long to figure it out,” his father admitted.
There was the faint sound of movement, and you imagined Satoru standing. “Thanks, old man.”
You pushed open the door to Satoru’s room a few minutes later. You didn’t expect him to be present there, obviously. He might still be with his father, and you didn’t wish to eavesdrop on their conversation anymore.
Satoru’s room was empty, eerily quiet. His desk was tidy, his bed neatly made. Everything was in its place, except him. You sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
For days, the memory of his half-finished confession had haunted you. The way he’d almost spoken, almost revealed just why he had told you those harsh words all those years ago. Almost. Before Naoya cut him off, of course. Why did he do that? Why did he say that? Why had he pushed you away? You clenched your fists, planning to stay there and wait all night if you had to, just to get the answers of those questions that had haunted you all this time.
The sound of the door creaking open jolted you from your thoughts. Relief flooded you, only to freeze when you realized it wasn’t Satoru standing there.
“Who are you?” You immediately asked.
It was a young woman. She was dressed as if she was a servant of the Gojo clan, but you didn’t recognize her.
“I–It’s me, Princess!”
“Tomoko?” you asked, frowning at the maid’s pale, trembling figure. “From the Kamo clan?” Your eyes widened in realization. “What are you doing here?”
“I... I need to tell you something, Princess,” she stammered. Her eyes darted nervously around the room. Her fingers fidgeted with each other. She couldn’t even look you in the eye. What was she hiding? Why was she here anyway? Something was wrong — terribly wrong.
“What is it?” you asked cautiously, standing up.
Tomoko wrung her hands, tears brimming in her eyes. “I... I poisoned Gojo-sama,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Your father, your highness.”
“What?” The word burst from you like a gunshot. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Tomoko flinched, but she continued, her voice shaking. “I didn’t want to do it. I swear on your greatness, Princess! But I was ordered to — by my clan… The Kamo clan.”
The Kamo clan?
Of course, it’s them.
It’s always them.
Your knees felt weak, and you stumbled, grabbing the bedpost for support. “What poison? How long — how long does he have?”
“It’s a rare poison,” Tomoko said, her voice cracking. “They got it from somewhere and had me— had me seal it in his wine. There is no cure. He has days left. A week, at most, Princess.”
The room spun, and anger surged through you. “You poisoned him, and you’re only telling me now?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Tomoko wailed, falling to her knees. “They threatened my family. And— and me too! If I didn’t do it, they said they’d kill us. I— I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Your voice rose, trembling with fury. “Oh, you’re sorry? And what the fuck do you expect me to say?” She gasped at your choice of words. “You expect me to forgive you for poisoning someone? For poisoning my fucking father?”
“I didn’t know what else to do!” she sobbed, her hands clutching at her chest. “Please, I can’t live with this guilt.”
You stared at her, your hands shaking, your mind racing. Satoru’s father, the man who had finally begun to reconcile with his son, finally, finally begun to relive and make up for all the wasted time, was dying.
And the Kamo clan was behind it.
They had already torn your life apart when you were a child. And now they were doing it again.
Why couldn’t they just leave you alone?
“Get out,” you said, your voice low trembling with barely contained rage.
Tomoko looked up at you, startled. “But—”
“Get out,” you repeated, louder this time. “And don’t ever show your face here again.”
“Please, I—”
“Leave!” you screamed, your voice breaking. “You will only get killed here — by my soldiers or by my hands!”
Tomoko scrambled to her feet, stumbling toward the door. She hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to say something else, but the fury in your eyes made her think better of it. She fled the room. The door slammed shut behind her.
For a moment, you just stood there, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Then, slowly, you sank onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet. Not until you figured out what to do.
Because another piece of your newfound life was tearing, and no amount of rage or despair could change that.
──── ୨ৎ ────
Ever since that night, you had been hoping, praying even, that whatever Tomoko had said that day was false. That your father was perfectly healthy, and he’d live a long life. But Satoru noticed how his father would stumble on his steps at times. Your mother noticed her husband’s loss of appetite. And overtime, as this worsened, you couldn’t deny it anymore.
Your father was dying.
And that was going to break you.
You hadn’t spoken a word about it to anyone. You should, you knew that. But how? Mother was always too busy fussing over him. Satoru had been avoiding you since that night with Naoya. How were you supposed to say a word?
The hallway outside Satoru’s parents’ room was dimly lit. They had begun sharing rooms again, and you wanted to be happy for them. But this would only go on for about five days longer, you thought ominously. You stood awkwardly near the door, waiting for your mother to emerge. Inside, you could hear her fussing over her husband tenderly.
“Stay in bed, please. The tea is still warm — I’ll bring it to you.” “I’m fine, love,” he replied weakly. “You’re the one who needs rest.”
There was a muffled sound of her setting something on a table, and then footsteps. she opened the door, stepping out into the hallway. She startled slightly at the sight of you, but her face quickly softened when she realized it was you.
“Are you waiting for Satoru? He’s not back yet,” she said, smoothing her sleeves. “No, I—” Your throat felt tight, and you took a moment to gather your courage. “Mother, I need to tell you something.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly in concern, and she gestured for you to follow her into the small sitting room across the hall. She sat gracefully, folding her hands in her lap. You tumbled into your seat, taking a deep breath.
“It’s about Father,” you begin hesitantly.
“What about him?”
“I… I know what happened to him,” you said cryptically. She raised an eyebrow at you, gesturing for you to continue. “One of the Kamo maids, Tomoko… She stayed back after the leaders had left and disguised herself as one of ours. And she told me. That she had poiso—”
“Enough,” she held up a hand to stop you, and you flinched. For a moment, her expression didn’t change. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long, quiet sigh. “I know,” she said softly.
The admission took you aback. “You... you know?”
She nodded, her fingers tightening briefly around the fabric of her kimono. “He told me as soon as he realized. In the past two days, we’ve consulted every healer, every remedy. There’s nothing… nothing that can be done now.” Her voice trembled just slightly, and she pressed her lips together to steady herself.
“Mother,” you whisper.
She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I should apologize to you for allowing the Kamo clan to enter our lives. I couldn’t protect my family as I should have. I’m a terrible mother.”
You shook your head vehemently. “You’re the best. The best mother and the best leader. And everything else you are.”
“Thank you, darling.” You could see the strain in the smile she gave you, and she looked older in the candlelight.
“But what do we do now?”
Lady Gojo exhaled, leaning back slightly. “Now, my only concern is making his last days as peaceful as possible. If Satoru were to find out...” Her voice broke for a moment, and she looked away as if to compose herself. “It would destroy him,” she continued. “He’s been through too much already. I won’t let this pain touch him — not yet.”
You felt a lump forming in your throat at her last words. “What can I do?”
She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. “Just be there for him. When the time comes, he’ll need you more than ever.”
You were pacing outside the garden. Every step crunched against the gravel path. Your thoughts were swirling with your mother’s confession, and her desire to keep it a secret from Satoru. But the last time you had kept something a secret from him, it had resulted in the loss of three years from your life. You couldn’t let that happen again.
But could you disobey your mother? So you had been doing the best thing you could possibly do in that situation — avoiding Satoru all day. But apparently, that wasn’t enough.
“Hey,” his voice startled you as he appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “What’s going on with you?”
You whirled around, clutching your chest. “W-What do you mean?”
He squinted at you, crossing his arms. “This!” He said, as if that explained everything. “You’ve been acting weird. Stuttering, avoiding eye contact, mumbling when you talk to me. That’s not like you at all.”
You forced out a laugh, waving your hand dismissively. “Oh, come on. You’re imagining things.”
Satoru took a step closer. “Don’t lie to me.”
You panicked and shouted. “I’m not lying!”
He narrowed his eyes in frustration. “You can’t even say that without stuttering.” Then he sighed. “Alright, tell me. What’s going on?”
“If you think of me as your sister were all the moments we spent together false or am I overthinking?” You blurted out.
Satoru froze, caught off guard. For a moment, the only sound between the two of you was the rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
“What?”
“Three years ago,” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “At the Kamo meeting. You called me your sister after they had brought up—”
“I know what I said,” he cut you off, his jaw tightening. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
“Then… why?” you whispered, stepping closer. “Why would you say that? Why would you—”
“Naoya,” he spat venomously.
You blinked, utterly confused. “Naoya?”
He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That bastard. He...” Satoru trailed off, his expression darkening.
“What about Naoya?”
Satoru hesitated, as if weighing whether or not to tell you. Finally, he exhaled sharply. “He said... things. About you. About what he’d… do to you if we, you know, got closer to each other. And I couldn’t let that happen. He was older, definitely experienced and all of that. I didn’t feel like the strongest anymore when I saw him say that.”
Your breath caught, and a cold chill ran down your spine. “Satoru. When did this happen? What did he say to you?”
“Don’t make me say it,” he snapped, but his anger seemed to be directed more towards Naoya than at you. “It happened right around the time you got detention, I still remember. He had told me he didn’t like how we were with each other. And how I was nothing, pathetic. How I could never protect you from… from him. And he had struck a deal with me that day — that he would stop it all if I was able to convince everyone that we couldn’t... that we didn’t...”
“That we didn’t what?” you whispered.
Satoru met your gaze with guilt. “That we didn’t belong together. That you were like a sister to me.”
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. But he continued.
“And then that day I had found out we were engaged. I was so happy, but also devastated. If that guy didn’t like us then, how would he like it if we got married? So I tried to stop it. Tried to break your heart. Like a coward. Like a fool.”
“Stop it!” You staggered back. “You’re not a coward!”
“Yes I am,” he shook his head. “You don’t understand. I got scared. He was older than me. He knew more. What if he whipped out some charm I didn’t recognize and killed you or something? I’d never be able to forgive myself. Not that I can now either.”
“Satoru—”
“I didn’t deserve the tears you spent on me that time. I didn’t deserve to see you break down. All those times your eyes would brim, my heart would claw at me to stop itself.”
“You don’t mean—” Your eyes widened, and he merely nodded, not looking at you at all.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “But it doesn’t matter now. None of it matters now.”
──── ୨ৎ ────
Satoru’s father’s funeral was held on a chilly afternoon. The air was thick with unspoken grief. The Gojo estate, usually buzzing with life, was eerily quiet. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the solemn atmosphere. The bare branches of trees trembled like fragile fingers.
A sea of black-clad mourners gathered, their heads bowed in respect, but it all felt hollow to you. Each condolence, every whispered prayer, was a reminder of the man who was no longer here, and you couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt in your chest.
You stood off to the side, your hands clasped tightly in front of you, staring at the pristine white casket adorned with lilies. The sight blurred as tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to cry in front of so many people. Your grief felt undeserved, selfish even, given the weight of your secret.
You had known about the poison. You knew about the slow and inevitable death of Satoru’s father. You knew, yet you had done nothing, just let it all happen. Could you have stopped it? Could you have saved him? The questions circled in your mind like vultures.
Satoru stood at the front, his back straight. His face seemed like it had been carved from stone. The usual spark in his eyes was gone. It was replaced by a cold emptiness that made your stomach churn. He hadn’t cried, not even once, as far as you knew. You wished he would. You wished that he would let himself grieve, scream, do anything to release the agony he must be feeling. But he was silent, like a statue among the living, and it broke your heart.
The ceremony dragged on. Each passing moment felt heavier than the last. When it finally ended, the crowd began to disperse, murmuring their condolences to Satoru’s mother, who stood like a ghost beside her son. You watched her, too, feeling a pang of sadness at how frail she seemed.
You wanted to approach Satoru, to say something, anything. But your feet felt rooted to the ground. What could you possibly say that wouldn’t sound as numb as you were feeling? The guilt in your chest tightened its grip, and you turned away, unable to face him.
Back at the estate, the house felt colder than ever. Dinner was a silent affair, just as it had been a few months ago. Because just as the lively chatter had begun to replace the clinking of utensils and the occasional sniffle, it had been snatched away from you.
Satoru’s mother tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, asking if anyone needed seconds or more tea, but her voice was brittle, and no one answered her with more than a shake of their head. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat, pushing the food around on your plate as you stole glances at Satoru.
He sat across from you, staring blankly at his untouched meal. The shadows under his eyes were darker than ever, and his usually flawless posture was slightly slouched. It was as if the weight of his father’s death had physically pressed down on him. You wanted to reach out, to say something, but the words died in your throat. Instead, you watched in silence as he eventually stood, his chair scraping against the floor, and left the room without a word.
You couldn’t sleep that night. The house was too quiet, the kind of quiet that made every creak of the floorboards and every whisper of the wind feel deafening. You found yourself wandering the halls, your feet carrying you to the room that had once belonged to Satoru’s father. It was untouched, as if he might walk back in at any moment. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and it made your chest ache.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the emptiness, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The days following the funeral were no easier. The once lively Gojo household felt like a mausoleum. Meals were eaten in near silence, and the air was heavy with unspoken grief. You found yourself avoiding Satoru more and more, not because you didn’t want to comfort him, but because you didn’t know how.
One evening, you found yourself in the library, hoping to distract yourself with a book. But the words on the page blurred together, and you couldn’t focus. The guilt was a constant, gnawing presence, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it. The image of Satoru’s father lying in his coffin haunted you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if you had acted sooner.
“What are you doing in here?”
You jumped, the book slipping from your hands as you turned to see Satoru standing in the doorway. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his expression was unreadable. You quickly wiped at your eyes, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears.
“I just needed some quiet,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
He walked into the room, his footsteps soft against the carpet. He picked up the book you had dropped, glancing at the cover before handing it back to you. “Mother’s calling you,” he said, his tone carefully neutral.
“For?” you asked, trying to sound casual.
“Dinner,” he said bluntly. “You haven’t been eating at all.”
You nodded, and he stood up and left without saying another word.
Dinner that night was a solemn affair. The dining room was heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional clinking of chopsticks against plates. Satoru’s face was blank, his appetite long gone. His mother sat at the head of the table. Her posture was perfectly composed. You sat beside her, feeling like an interloper in this world of quiet mourning. A seat was left empty, for whom, you didn’t have to guess.
The ache in your chest was unbearable, but guilt magnified it tenfold. You had been the one to discover the truth, the one who knew about the poison before anyone else. And yet, you had done nothing.
A soft knock on the door broke the oppressive quiet. One of the maids entered, bowing deeply as she held out a folded piece of paper. “Lady Gojo—” she glanced at her, unsure of how to approach her in her desensitized state — “we found this while cleaning the late master’s study. It’s addressed to you, Princess,” she bowed to you.
The maid extended the letter to you, and you accepted it hesitantly. Your heart immediately sank at the sight of your name scrawled in bold, deliberate handwriting. Satoru’s mother nodded at the maid to dismiss her, then at you.
“Read it,” she said softly. “Whatever he’s written, it’s meant for you to hear.”
You unfolded the paper carefully, your hands shaking as you smoothed it out. The opening lines confirmed your suspicion.
“To my dearest child,
If you are reading this, then it means I am no longer among the living. There are matters I could not speak of while alive, and so I leave them here, trusting you to read with an open heart.”
Your voice wavered as you read aloud. Satoru and his mother both watched you intently.
“In my absence, I leave behind all that I have built, not as burdens, but as tools for you to continue shaping our legacy.
To my wife, the pillar of my strength, I entrust our estate and all its affairs. She has always been my compass, and I know she will guide our family with the same wisdom and grace she has always shown. To my son, Satoru, I leave my knowledge, my pride, and my unwavering belief in your potential. He is destined for greatness, and though I may not be there to see it, I know he will honor the Gojo name with dignity and strength. So I shall also leave our ancestral blade, a symbol of our family’s strength and honor, along with the records of our techniques and histories.”
To you, my dear daughter, I bequeath the east wing of the estate, yours to claim as a sanctuary and a symbol of your place among us. Furthermore, I leave a yearly stipend from the family’s accounts, ensuring you will always have the means to build a life of stability and comfort.”
But then your voice caught, the words ahead freezing in your throat.
The second paragraph shifted abruptly, no longer a formal testament but a recounting of events that made your blood run cold.
“The past few years I had spent alone were ones spent to find the roots of your journey home, here. I know the pain you carry, and the secrets you keep. I know how you came into this world. Kamo Akane, your mother—”
You stopped reading it aloud, and instead your eyes began darting back and forth the lines as you read it in your head.
Kamo Akane, your mother, made the impossible choice to keep you despite everything she endured. She bore you with strength, but her circumstances were cruel. Kamo Daijiro never accepted you, and he made sure she couldn’t either. When you were only three years old, they both agreed to sell you to the traders of Mizuho.
Your breath hitched. The paper in your hands crinkled as your grip tightened. You couldn’t read further. The memories you had buried deep threatened to overwhelm you. The cold basement. The chains. The voices. The pain.
“What is it?” Satoru asked with concern. “Why did you stop?”
You shook your head, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing.”
“That’s a lie,” he said flatly.
You tried to fold the letter, to hide it away, but your trembling hands betrayed you. Satoru reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he snatched the paper. “If you won’t read it, I will.”
“No!” you protested, but it was too late. His eyes scanned the words quickly, his expression darkening with each passing second. He reached the part about the traders, and his jaw clenched. His hands shook, but he didn’t stop until he reached the final lines.
I knew about the poison. I knew what the Kamo clan had done to me. But this is not a burden you should carry. You have suffered enough, and I do not want you to feel guilt for something beyond your control.
And Satoru.
Satoru’s eyes flicked to you briefly before continuing.
I know you’re reading this as well. You won’t listen even if I told you this letter is meant for her alone. Satoru, please do not fight.
But the word “fight” was blotched with ink. A tear had smudged the letters. Satoru’s hand hovered over the page, and you realized with a sinking heart that the tear was his own.
He folded the letter carefully, setting it down on the table. His movements were unnaturally calm, but you knew better. The storm was brewing.
“Satoru,” you said hesitantly. “Please don’t—”
He stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Mother.” His voice was tight, barely restrained. “May I have your permission?”
“Satoru!”
Satoru’s mother regarded him for a long moment. Her gaze flicked to you, then back to her son. Finally, she nodded. “Do what you must. But remember, no harm is to come to the Gojo clan’s reputation.”
He bowed deeply, his fists clenched at his sides. “Thank you.”
“What?” You stood, panic rising. “You can’t just let him go! This isn’t—”
Satoru’s mother silenced you with a look. “He deserves his revenge.”
You stared at her, incredulous. “Revenge won’t bring him back! It won’t fix anything!”
Satoru didn’t wait to hear more. He left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. You called after him, your voice breaking, but he didn’t look back. The door slammed shut behind him, leaving you and his mother alone in suffocating silence.
“How can you…?” you began, your voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “How can you let him do this?”
Her expression softened, but her resolve remained. “Because I know my son. And I know he won’t find peace until he has faced this head-on.”
You sank back into your chair, your hands clutching at your chest as though to hold your breaking heart together. The letter lay between you and Lady Gojo, as if to remind you of everything you had both lost and everything that was yet to come.
──── ୨ৎ ────
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“LOATHING” - (joe burrow x oc)
CHAPTER THREE - “thru the phone”
word count: 1.9k
warnings: 18+ (MDNI)! perv!joe, a wet dream happens, joe has a voice kink, jerking off, over the phone stuff…joe is just really horny this chapter 😭
winnie sighs as she walks into her physics class, spotting a seat next to joe and getting her things out. she had been pushed and almost trampled by all the tall students roaming the halls. it was annoying, but thankfully, she made it.
“god, winnie,” joe snickers, looking at winnie’s disheveled and frustrated appearance, “you look like you just woke up.”
“well. i did. but also, people roam the halls with no sense of awareness,” she groans, putting her book on top of her desk, “or urgency.”
joe chuckles, knowing that winnie hates getting to her classes. even when they were in middle school together, winnie struggled with transitioning between classes.
“yeah? well, that’s the life of a student for you.” he nudges her shoulder, getting a small smile from her.
oddly enough, there’s something about winnie. he’s not sure if it's the fact that she styles her hair, or if she does a bit of makeup, or if it’s her fidgeting. maybe it’s the small pout she does when focusing. but she looks…pretty. really pretty.
joe watches as kaori continues getting her things out, deciding to take a brief moment to speak up.
“hey…you got a volleyball game today, right?”
winnie looks at joe, nodding with a smile. “mhm…why?”
joe grins, raising an eyebrow. “i’m gonna come and watch.”
her gaze softens. truth be told, she really did want joe to be there. she would never say that part out loud, of course. that’s straight up embarrassing. but hearing that he’ll be attending the game did make her heart swell with joy.
“really?” she asks, leaning back in her seat, “i’ll hold you to that.”
“trust me. i’ll always be around if it means i’m supporting you.” joe affirms, his eyes gleaming with a specific fondness to them.
for a moment, a brief moment, the both of them were locking eyes. they may have been looking at each other for longer than necessary, but they couldn’t look away. it’s like they were magnetized.
the bell rings, interrupting their moment. despite this, they share a brief smile, their faces both being bright red.
———————
winnie was warming up with the team as more and more people filled the gym. saying she was nervous would be an understatement. nonetheless, she’s aware of what she needs to do. after all, she finally made the team! this was the exact moment that she’s been waiting for.
as she practices hitting and serving the ball, she notices joe walk in with his friends, ja’marr and justin. his hair is styled with a few curls against his forehead, and he is wearing a sweatshirt with some black joggers. though his outfit is simple, winnie finds it…attractive?
no. snap out of it winnie. now is not the time to be ogling your friend.
as she continues warming up, her friend alina noticed her staring.
“winnie,” she asks, “you don’t happen to like joe, do you?”
with a pause, winnie holds the ball, looking at alina in shock; she wasn’t expecting that question from her.
“no. we’re just friends. why?”
alina rolls her eyes, “just friends my ass.”
in an exasperated sigh, winnie serves the ball over the net. “we are! we go way back. we had a falling out, but we rekindled our friendship.”
“and? i just saw the way you looked at him.”
huh. she did? winnie didn’t think she was that obvious. nonetheless she shrugs. “i mean. it’s normal to find your friend good looking.”
“well,” alina pauses, looking at joe for a minute before looking back at winnie, “you do know that you’ll have to deal with emma, right? she’s crazy obsessed with joe.”
she scowls a little at that. that was a very true statement. winnie isn’t dumb; she’s aware of the fact that many women are attracted to joe on campus. and sometimes, he plays into their attraction. it was something she never ever understood, but she just knew that it was something that he did.
as far as emma goes, she stops at nothing when it comes to getting what she wants. she’d beg, borrow, steal, lie…whatever it takes. but winnie doesn’t get why that bothers her so much. her and joe are only friends, so even if emma does want joe, she shouldn’t care…right?
with a small shrug of her shoulders, winnie speaks, “she can have him.”
alina scoffs, knowing that winnie is putting up a front. she doesn’t press on the subject anymore though.
meanwhile, in the stands, joe was…struggling. ja’marr and justin were laughing about something, probably a dumb instagram post or video. but he couldn’t help but focus on winnie as she warms up.
the way her hair is tied back and her stare is so focused. it’s attractive to joe. but even worse (or better), it was something about those shorts she was wearing. they hugged her curves in the best way possible, leaving nothing to his imagination.
in a way, joe felt guilty for being the perv he was being. this is his friend he’s thinking about. but with winnie looking the way she does? he’s a goner.
“joe…? joe!”
snapping from his thoughts, joe looks at justin and ja’marr. “huh…?”
“you good? you were staring hella hard at winnie,” justin chuckles.
“eh. can’t say i blame him.” ja’marr shrugs, causing joe to slap his hand against his chest roughly.
“i was not staring.” joe denies, shaking his head and folding his arms.
justin puts his hands up. “i’m not judging, man. i mean, she does look pretty good from here.”
joe huffs, waving their words off. “okay, guys that’s enough. i was looking for a very brief moment.”
and as if on cue, justin and ja’marr share a glance at each other. without words, they seem to agree that joe isn’t being smooth like he thinks he is.
———————
their hands were all over each other’s bodies, their lips floating across the other’s skin. the feeling of winnie’s nails dragging along joe’s arms made him shiver, his spine tingling from the excitement and pleasure.
“god…joe,” winnie gasps, straddling joe’s lap as the two sit on his bed.
joe chuckles, his hand on her hip slowly drifting down to her panty-clad core and rubbing very small circles. just small enough to suffice, but still be a tease. and the sensation makes her legs jolt slightly, her lips slightly parted as a breathy “oh, fuck” leaves them.
“you have no idea what it does to me, seeing you in your cute little skirts and stuff,” he whispers, watching as winnie begins to grind against his hand slightly, “or…maybe you do have an idea.”
he takes his free hand, cupping her breast gently under her bra. a soft hum of approval at the soft, supple skin, his thumb massaging her nipple. “the way you act so innocent and nonchalant…but you and i both know what you want.”
winnie’s body trembles at joe’s teasing words and touches, her mind cloudy with nothing but thoughts of him. thoughts about his hands and his lips, thoughts of his eyes piercing into her.
“joe…please,” winnie mewls, looking at joe with a dazed, love drunk look.
“please what?” joe, smirks, leaning in towards winnie’s ear, “if you want me to fuck you, then you better say it loud and clear.”
and with that, winnie wastes no time, nodding and looking at joe, “yes…yes, please, joe! i-i want…need you to fuck me so bad,” she begs, her breath hitching with every pinch and touch joe leaves on her sensitive frame.
“alright, princess. but only because you asked so nicely.”
as joe hooks his fingers around winnie’s underwear-
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
joe shoots up from his bed, looking over at his clock on his nightstand and groaning. he slams his hand on it, turning it off and rubbing his hands over his eyes. he looks down and…
holy shit.
whatever that dream was, it did a number on him. he groans, looking at his morning wood in frustration. having a wet dream about your friend and now having to deal with a boner because of it was not on his bucket list.
he looks down and notices that winnie is calling. and so, he picks up the phone.
“hey, winnie…what’s up?” he asks, still drowsy and annoyed from his dream.
“not much, just…wanted to talk to you. i know we have a physics test soon and i was wondering if we could go over some stuff?”
of course, winnie was up early. studying. but she sounds so pretty and charming, like usual. it pisses joe of to no end, but it also…arouses him.
“sure,” joe nods, his hand slowly, oh so slowly moving down his body, “care to tell me what you remember so far?”
“yeah,” winnie answers, and joe can hear her rummaging through some notes, “so, we’re going over thermodynamics…”
joe would occasionally nod and go along as winnie spoke, hooked on every word she’d say. and he knows that this would be a perverted thing to do, but he can’t help it. not when winnie sounds so perfect.
his hand gently wrapped around his cock, and he swipes some of the pre-cum off the tip. he lets out a small groan as winnie continued going over her notes, stroking his length. the reality of what he’s doing causes his cheeks to turn red, but he doesn’t feel like stopping; he’s too entranced by her to stop. and plus he needs to release some tension from that wet dream.
“there are four different thermodynamic processes, and-”
“fuck…” joe moans, perhaps too loudly. because there’s a moment of lingering silence. “um-”
“joe…are you…jerking off?”
shit. he’s been caught. he can’t lie. winnie isn’t that dumb. she may be a virgin, but she’s not stupid.
“um…yeah?”
“oh…” winnie murmurs, though she doesn’t sound disgusted. rather…intrigued? she eventually speaks, “uh…so should i keep speaking, or…?”
“god, yes…keep talking,” joe nods, sounding a bit desperate, not that he cares.
though joe couldn’t see it, winnie’s cheeks were dusted over with a slight pink shade. she’s never had anyone be aroused by her voice, but it feels…nice? and besides, it’s joe.
“okay…so as i was saying, there’s four thermodynamic processes…”
soon enough, winnie could hear joe’s heavy breathing through her phone. the way he mumbled out small hums and curses made the hair on her body stand up. the thought if having such an effect on someone was a different, but good feeling. even if it was just a friend.
with a loud groan, joe finally comes, riding out his orgasm as spurts of cum land on his stomach and wrist. once he finished, he sighs, resting against his pillow.
“so…you good now?” winnie asks, waiting for joe’s response.
“yeah,” he pants out, “i am…thanks for helping out with that, baby.”
baby…? the name caused winnie’s heart to thump, and she didn’t know how to respond, other than a small “you’re welcome.”
joe looks at his phone, his eyes widening. “shit. i’m supposed to meet justin and ja’marr for breakfast,” he says, quickly sitting up and using some tissue to wipe himself off. “i’ll talk with you soon, okay, winwin?”
“okay…bye!” winnie replies, to which joe bids his farewell too, and hangs up.
as for winnie, she sits on her bed with her notes. her face is warm and her legs clenched together.
it seems like she too has her own little problem now.
we are so back guys :]
#joe burrow#joe burrow fic#bengals#cincinnati bengals#joe brrr#joe burrow x oc#joey b#joe burrow lsu#joey burrow#nfl#joe burrow bengals#lsu joe#lsu!joe
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she wasn't entirely unassuming of what was transpiring between all this time, only it was simply easy to ignore when she could list endless excuses and reasons to entertain it. yet, she never entertained that he loves her, that he wishes to be with her in every sense of the word until now. there he went again, saying the right things and each time more tender words fell from him, too many emotions claw at her. they barrel towards her all at once, but not one she could process. alina had learned to endure much, and wiping away every unwanted emotion was a skill she had in spades, but her skills all fail her in this moment. she realized gradually that cedrian had slowly began to read and understood her silences. perhaps she had not done a greater job shielding herself from his gaze, or that she had severely underestimated him and his determination. "yet somehow you still understand." alina certainly didn't think herself worthy of him or his heart, but it was not meant to disparage herself, only that she had understood where her strengths and weaknesses lied. the language of love and affections were absent in her childhood, vanished the moment her mother left her world. and cedrian's existence was proof that she was capable of love, only that she now feared that her love was far too tainted of the shadows of her past. that no matter how hard she tried, how selflessly she loved him, it would drown in her selfishness. was it not now? instead of doing the right thing of ending things and allowing him to find someone worthy of him, she didn't wish to let him go. alina wanted all of him as he offered her, she wanted him to be hers, and perhaps once she could talk herself out of it but now? it was impossible not when he all declared himself hers. everything she had learned about him from the moment they shared their first night together, told her they should not fit the way they do, that nothing of them made sense together. he was everything she wished to be, but would never be, and everything she wanted for herself. and yet as opposites they fit. as if she has found all the broken pieces of herself within his own. he did not speak of his wife ever, perhaps out of respect for alina, but he did not need to for alina to know her passing had left broken him in pieces. she was perhaps foolish to ever believe she could control anything of him, for all the control the high lady held, she learned she held little of it when it came to her heart. cedrian had easily claimed it without her even realizing it until she reached for his. "perhaps i do not need to understand." she finally says, relinquishing a bit the tightly reigned control she held, it slipped each time he gazed at her as he did now. "yes, you do." he did know her, of course he did just as she knew him. each moment she knew more of him, alina knew she had been done for. "nor will i ever understand what i have done to deserve you. only that, i had longed to know what it would feel to be loved by someone as transcendent as you. i do not need anything cedrian, you do not know what you have given me thus far and what you've done for me." her heart is erratic, hearing his thoughts of her, he calls her magnificent? what of he? as if he were any less. "i am humbled nonetheless." she meets his gaze, catching his own uncertain gaze, but it was a look that tugged at her heart, "they were never gone, darling, only dormant, and that is why i am humbled, because you offered them to me. you will never be anything less than perfect to me, you will not understand this so i will implore you to trust me." were she better she would convey how she thought of him, but in due time she would. "i am not magnificent, that is you."
"no, i do not, but i relish in what i see in your gaze for me, nonetheless." selfishly, she never wished for him to gaze at her as anything other than he did now, but whether that changed when she let him, she would worry of them. however, alina would be insulting him and his love if she believed anything less. "you do not believe you deserve that and far more?" he was a man of his words, something she could claim little of men in general. the only man she had ever trusted before ced, was daxton, her surrogate brother who never left her side from childhood to now, despite knowing what she capable of. she would never quite grow accustomed to hearing him reiterate he loves her, alina does make a silent vow that she would try to be partner he deserved, she would try every moment of her existence to be deserving of him. it was fearful, all that still existed around them, their circumstances, that would the surroundings taint what they had. all fears alina forced away, because she realizes they were things they would figure out and solve together. her fingers gently stroke his cheek, memorizing every detail of him with both her hands and her gaze, as if she hadn't already done so. "i sense you knew you have all of me already." there was a slight twitch of her lips at his endearment of her, "a summer storm i wish to keep you far away from, cedrian. however, i was wrong because every storm and sea needs her harbor." if she was the storm, than cedrian was her shores that anchored her, reminded her she had a home. she's still when he cups her face and doesn't allow her to remove her gaze, nor would she because he speaks, finally of his late wife of what her loss did to him, her heart clenches in pain, denying himself love all for his former high lady, because it he thought it as a honor to the mother his children. it was a different ache that settled into her now, "any who loves their spouse the way you do, would believe the same. you had given your entire existence to her." it wasn't a bad thing at all, "it pains me, only imagining of what you went through after you lost her. fates are cruel, i have never thought of them, but if they brought you to me, perhaps they are not all horrendous. you were a gift to her, and now for me." a heartbeat of silence, "i like that you speak of her, i hope that you continue to do so with me." cedrian would not be the man he is now, she's certain, if he did not love his wife, did not share a life with her. as cruel as that sounded, he would not be who he was without his late wife. "how do you always say the right things?"
with every word, the emotions weigh on her, not in a negative light but she has no idea what to do with his probing gaze. she felt relief speaking of him and his wife, but it was a marvel that after his heartbreak he was willing to love again, and to alina of all. she takes a moment, nuzzling their faces, just to simply feel him, the warmth of his presence, the safe harbor he offered, something she's not known, not this form or variation. what it felt like to lean on someone and not fear that you'd fall. there was fear, but of a different kind, not a lack of trust but fear that if she ever lost cedrian , would she ever recover? she knew the answer. she would not. she feels him visibly relax against her frame when she offers to share the parts of herself she kept locked. "it's what i've done, and what i would have done again." she once more halts here, not wishing to break this moment, only selfishly wishing to relish in his warmth, of being in his arms this way. "you will not condemn me because your heart is too generous for that." deep in her bones, she knew this. alina wondered would loving him, in a way of atoning for her sins? was fates giving her a chance to right the many wrongs on her hands? "i understand why we did, or why i have with you." if she could mend his broken heart, alina could at least lay claim to one good deed in her existence. "for how long you will have me." only that she knew, he didn't give his heart so easily, but neither did alina. when their foreheads pressed together, her breaths are scattered from his kiss, his words and what she had finally told him. the shock of her letting those words slips does not wane quickly. one secret of many free, but one she knew that she gave him a form of happiness with. hearing the words from him, she swore felt every bit of what he did in this moment when she uttered those words to him. she returns his kiss, allowing her lips to linger against his own, "did you believe for a moment, i would not love you? how is that possible?" cedrian had nothing to prove to her, but the high lady had everything to do so.
cedrian couldn't help but marvel at the paradox alina presented herself as. she was an unshakable high lady, fierce, protective of her court and her people, but then she was also showing him such a raw vulnerability that it made him ache. she doubted herself, not understanding what he saw in her, and yet all he could see was a woman who captivated his heart so wholly. every glance, every touch – it all chipped away at the walls he placed around his heart decades prior until all that remained was his love for her. she was his equal in every way, but also his opposite. somehow that mixture made her slot perfectly into his heart in a place he expected to leave vacant. there was no hiding from the truth he'd finally admitted to her and himself. there was no more pretending, this was the precipice of whether their relationship imploded or exploded. alina deserved a fierce love, now he just needed to convince her of that so she could stop fighting their happiness. ced was already prepared to damn all and be with her, they'd figure it out somehow, but was she ? love wasn't always enough – he knew that well – and he believed it was everything else that was holding her back so fiercely. he nearly chuckles when she responds to his words, as if he needs to remind her who he is and that he's not a figment of her control. he's just as able to read her as she is others. " sometimes love isn't something you are meant to understand. " he says softly, heart aching at the belief she's disappointed her siblings. ced doesn't even know how to argue that, how to get her to see that it wasn't true. " because i know you. " is all he offers, deciding that pushing her on her siblings wasn't best in this moment. everything with alina had a time and a place, a patience that he didn't mind offering. " and because you deserve someone who is willing to wait for you – to give you what you need. " he tries to shift things to them, to their relationship and what he offers her. they already had chemistry in the bed, a fierce passion that couldn't be matched, but she also needed to see that he was a good partner for her over all. he only wished she could see herself through his eyes. could see that the self doubt she possessed was not needed. how could she not see the brilliance within herself when she could find every piece of himself he'd hidden or broken ? she dismissed her greatness and believed herself worth nothing – which just wasn't true. " you are utterly magnificent, alina, you don't need to be humbled. " his words ring the truth he believes, the truth he wants her to feel. her admission should ignite him, but instead it somehow quiets the raging parts of his mind. hearing her words, they confirm what he'd been too scared to question. " i am far from perfect, alina, but you see the parts of me i thought long gone. " admits he.
he shakes his head lightly, " because you don't see what i see, see that you deserve someone who understands you and still loves you as i do. " now that the word was out of the bag he seemed to be unable to stop sharing it. cedrian had sworn never to love in this way again, to allow his heart to remain locked away after losing ellena. it wasn't a vow he had taken lightly – but it was one bron of a grief so profound he didn't expect to recover. at the time. yet here alina stood, proving that the widow inside of him had been wrong. she'd shown him that love wasn't a betrayal of his past, but a gift of the present. it wasn't about replacing his late wife in his heart, but finding something new and just as profound. she became his everything when he wasn't even looking. he wasn't foolish enough to let that slip away, no matter the challenges or obstacles they would face. cedrian thought himself the luckiest man alive to have her, and could wait until she was ready… within reason. he tried not to push her, but sometimes he felt she might need it in order to realize what she was trying not to. he closes his eyes when her hand touches his face, relishing the moment. " not when you already have all of me. " he teases lightly, but felt it needed to be said. his eyes part again, finding hers in an instant. " that goes both ways, my summer storm. " he confirms. he wants her, in any way he can have her. sure, ced knows what he wishes that to look like, but he's also not stupid enough to think he can fully walk away from her if she doesn't match that perfectly. he finally reaches up to cup her own cheek, to make sure she doesn't look away because the thoughts in his mind need to be in her own now. " i promised i would never love again after i lost her. i didn't think i deserved to find a new lover and believed i would shame her memory. but that isn't how things work. loving you is a gift, and i sometimes wonder if the fates expected this to happen because of how perfectly you've fit yourself into the broken bits of my heart. " his tone pleads for her to hear him, to believe herself worthy of his love. nothing would turn him off this course he'd chosen, he just needed her to trust in that.
ced's hands drop from her as their faces nuzzle against each other. he mourns the loss of her eyes, able to pick up all she wouldn't say, but respects her need to stop looking into his searing gaze. to give her a few moments. when she agrees to let him in a weight lifts off his shoulders. he'd been aching to hear it, and her words echoed in his mind on repeat. she was willing to give him access to the parts of herself she kept hidden from the world, and that was as much an admission of her feelings for him without her needing to say the four letter word. his hand tightened once more on her waist, anchoring them to one another in this moment as their emotions take over. he's no stranger from it, but he knows this is unlike anything alina has really felt or done before. whatever she gave him was a gift, one she didn't owe him like she claimed but he would happily take. cedrian was greedy when it came to the knowledge alina would offer him. " and i shall listen to every single thing. " he vows. once again he nearly shakes his head, but instead just closes his eyes to center his words. " you shouldn't my resolve, and even if you've done something wretched and horrible i will mourn for what you had to do, for you, and not condemn you for it. " he'd just be sad she was forced into a situation that called for whatever she so clearly thought was dark and scary. little did she know, nothing would sway him. " neither of us were meant to fall for one another, but the cruel turn of fates has decided we have no choice. " because even if she hadn't said it yet – he knew. he may think it not to be true, lie and say he didn't know how she felt, but this moment stole away every excuse he could pretend to give. " but i have come to be grateful of this gift, of being able to love you for as long as you will have me. " he continues. but then her words finally came, and his world shifted off course. he may have felt her affection in her actions, in the other words she offered, but hearing her say those words out loud was like a melody to his ears. she loved him. he closes his eyes, lets their foreheads press against one another to reply�� before he kisses her again. " it means more than i can ever explain to hear you say that. " he admits, words thick with emotion that threatened to close up his throat. she'd given him everything, and he wanted to prove her how worthy he was of her love every moment she would allow it.
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Today I will rant because I want to about that character and how he's treated by some
Lately the rapist comments about him and how he was selfish are getting multiplied which makes me both angry and sad.
When you have the author itself say that she saw the King and Queen as the real villains and that we can make a case about the Darkling's worst crimes then how do some people indirectly call him the worst thing that happened to Ravka and to Alina?
They only treat Aleksander as a villain, emphasizing his sexually creepy moments and selfish motivations and completely disregard the human side of him or his traumatic past.
The Darkling did not spend 500 (and possibly more) years of his life to protect his people and stop the wars for you to call him a selfish evil man. If you want to call someone selfish then look at Baghra that stays warm in her hearth and not giving a single fuck for Ravka. If you want to call someone selfish then take a look at the King and Queen who grow fat and rich while their people and starving and think that being orphaned is "marvelous". If you want to call someone selfish then look at Mal who wanted to leave Ravka and never look back (and in the meantime, it was his country that was in danger) or even Alina.
The Darkling was quite literally the only person that decided to take action for a persecuted group of people without wavering once.
You don't give a single glimpse at his tragic elements. You ignore them. But his isolated and traumatic childhood, abusive mother figure, near-immortality that made him witness people he loved die, rare powers that have isolated him further and desperation to see the Grisha being respected and accepted says hello 🙋.
You call us fans of the category "The Darkling did nothing wrong". Well, just because we don't talk about his crimes every day does not mean we don't know about them. We just decide to talk about the Darkling in our blogs as a human, tragic figure that was much more complex than his "evil" actions. If we wanted to read about the Darkling and his evilness we would read KoS and RoW everyday. Zoya, Tolya and Genya were orators of that. But maybe we just decided to look deeper than this. To cast light to the parts he kept hidden and were so human and still valid.
Some call us even misogynistic for judging Alina. I didn't know that just because we judge one fictional, female character means that we hate all women. Wow. For your information, most of the times we judge the way she was handled by the author more than the character herself.
But having people making the Darkling a simple villain with no humanity is probably one of the worst butchering of a character I've ever seen.
Some people literally took an intriguing, complex character with selfless motivations and turned him into a power-hungry tyrant. Bye guys 💀
I don't know. If you expect from me at least to post about how the Darkling was evil, a tyrant and a rapist then you are on the wrong page. I only write about the Darkling as human most of all. With tragic elements and human emotions and vulnerabilities that were actually there. But some people cannot read past the word "villain".
#“But...but...what he did to Alina...”#What he *really* did to Alina was to open her eyes to the truth and she only kept them closed until the very end#The fact that you are stuck only in his “sexually abusive” ways is stupid and childish#the darkling#pro darkling#aleksander morozova#pro aleksander morozova#alina starkov#darklina#pro darklina#shadow and bone#grishaverse trilogy#grishaverse
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...why the fuck do i keep getting darkling apologists on my dash
#what the fuck#he's an interesting villain character sure but#but please#he's not a good person#i'm reaching my limit for darkling apologist posts on my dash#gnawing at the bars of my enclosure#shaking the bars of my enclosure#please listen to me he did so much fucked up shit#please listen to me i also understand that alina has her problems#but alina's problems don't magically make the darkling a better person#olease i'm begging#please#shadow and bone#grishaverse#alina starkov#the darkling
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local silly is learning so much guys...<3
#arknights#arknights kal'tsit#arknights doctor#arknights amiya#arknights spoilers#in the tags i mean. you get it. anyway.#ahem*#BRO YO KALSIT...SHE HATES US HATES US I THOUHGT EVERYONIE WAS MEMEING YA'LL AR DOWNPLAYING????#ALSO NOOOOOOOO TALULAH!!!! WHY DID THY TAKE ALINA ROM HE R ITS SO UCKED YALLL#what...what am i...WHAT is happening....#i dont wanna se her down fall....also!!#when i saw those chacter show cases with talulah the fighter i thought we got her on our side for a limited time or something#not us playin in the past. was fun! i also liked reading the small stage blurbs before you head in#it fucked me up.#also L on my part but i found out...how to access the old side stories...#just yesterday...in the special operations/public records archive....#im so smart guys i have more reading to do!#anyway have fun with the rerun everyone! its mt personal fav summer event (gameplay wise)
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Scorched sea verse for the title game!
This is a doc where I’ve jotted down several supplementary ideas for the Darklina Roleswap AU where Nikolai is just hanging out as their third lol
There was a lot of backstory lore that didn’t make it into the fic proper that seemed fun to explore. The entire segment where the Apparat builds her up as a saint before Grisha are at all accepted in Ravka and the higher stakes of that. Then things going south, Mal dying and her turning to Ilya Morozova for help. And the vague Baghralina that happens then falls to pieces after the falling out with her father lol.
I also had ideas for two future separate scenes, that would probably be one shots in a collection. Alina being driven to tell Nikolai that she’s not actually going to human sacrifice herself in the next couple of years, can he please stop being so damn melodramatic about it???
The main fic wrapped up before the actual collaring so I also had some loose ideas for that. Here’s a snippet of it!
#my TGT manifesto is that the Darkling would fold like a napkin if anyone used his own tactics on him#and also that he says that particular soulmate tinged stuff to Alina because that’s what he wants to hear lmao#there’s also a scene vaguely down the line where she’s just tested out doing merzost through him#and it’s kind of fucked him up! she claims she only ever did it because she must!! it’s just something they should be ready to use!!#he isn’t quite convinced but he has his head in her lap and she’s stroking his hair so he’s like… actually this is fine#(worst mommy issues known to man!!!!!)#grishaverse#shadow and bone#grisha trilogy#darklina#alarkling#wip title game#ask game#a string of words#step into my office
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anyways the show removed one of the best parts of the books, which was that alina was fucking haunted by the darkling. there is nothing more interesting about their relationship than his existence as a ghost inside the halls of her mind
#shadow and bone#grishaverse#alina starkov#sab#aleksander morozova#the darkling#darklina#kinda#myramblings#the darkling is a ghost the darkling is already dead the darkling exists always as the specter of the man she is going to kill herself#his death is inevitable and it is inevitable because of the things he's faced the things he's done because of what was done to him#he is an example of everything wrong with the world that made him that way#and he is a tragedy#the show hardly did this correctly because it was all dream visits and no REAL haunting#that scene where alina is in his rooms is SO visceral#and they didn't include it#and of course that removed the fact that she struggles to reveal to her friends that he's haunting her#because what does that say about her?#and what will they think of her? for having this darkness inside of her. will they think she's like him?#but again it's just another complex facet of her character that's erased 🙄#whatever#all of these characters deserved better but especially alina and genya
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i am going to shake all the darklina shippers so hard until their brains fall out. Stop It
#grishaverse#shadow and bone#alina starkov#the darkling#anti darklina#i hate the darklina shipping so much. did you read the book. do you have any thoughts in your head ever. he was a terrible person#darklina shippers DNI GO AWAY I WILL BITE YOU#they are not an “aesthetic couple 🥺🌘☀️” their relationship is 100% fully and unequivocally toxic and bad#and not something you should be romanticizing#he Was Using Her what’s not clicking#it is an intentionally unhealthy relationship and leigh did not write it as such for y’all to turn around and go “awww so cute”#also stop hating on mal you Losers he is Better Than You
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Also what are your overall opinions on the Darkling?
honestly I'm suchhhhh a darkling anti sorry bestie 😭😭
if you've looked through my tag I'm sure you've seen some of these thoughts before, but imo he's not only a terrible person but also a failed revolutionary
like you say his methods worked a lot of times, but in canon he basically achieves NONE of his aims - by the time of the books, he's had over 300 years of power, and grisha are still being persecuted etc. obviously this isn't entirely his fault, but it does prove that whatever he's been doing isn't particularly effective
politics is one of my fav topics tbh and one that I've talked a LOT about especially with regard to the darkling, and my general point is that there are so many other ways he could have achieved his goals more effectively, and that his actions in canon actually damaged ravka considerably more than they aided it
#not 'i could fix him' or 'i could make him worse'‚ but a secret third thing (i could be a better politician than him)#see i dislike him on a personal level (what he did to genya‚ how he treats alina etc) but ALSO#any time we see him make any kind of political decision i lose my will to live bc he just makes Really Bad Decisions#sorry if this is too harsh btw 😭😭😭#grishaverse#mayhem.txt#answered#anti darkling
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The Darkling trying to weaponise the Fold was an understandable course of action for him to try and take but I don't think some of you guys are ready for that conversation
#“but it's evil :(( alina and the grisha triumvirate will fix the prejudice against grisha without doing something like that :((”#*the darkling laughs in the distance*#DON'T YOU GET IT??#THAT'S WHAT HE DID#HE CREATED THE LITTLE PALACE TO GET RID OF THE PREJUDICE. TO NORMALISE GRISHA. TO HUMANISE THEM#he tried to be diplomatic. he tried to be polite. he tried to be nice#but that DID NOT WORK#he is THOUSANDS of years old#he's tried it all#weaponising the fold was literally a LAST RESORT#in demon of the woods it's clear he set out with good intentions#but they were corrupted along the way#because GOODNESS. NEVER. SUCCEEDS.#“pls stop killing me and my people :((”#THAT WON'T WORK.#and somewhere along the line he understood that#it doesn't excuse what he did to genya. it doesn't excuse what he did to the grisha. it doesn't excuse what he did to alina#but he was absolutely 100% understandable in this and i stand by that#if that's controversial idc#the darkling#pro darkling#or more. pro his actions#like i said i don't excuse what he did to alina and genya etc.#grishaverse#shadow and bone
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Could I have an incorrect quote with Alina and Carter? XD
Alina Foley, I assume
And yes I did just realize I chose a name for a side character thats also the name of a highly popular book character
Anyway-
Alina: Why can't you and Joel just get along?
Carter: it's not my fault your husband is the worst person i know
#carter doesnt actually mean that#hes just upset about what joel did#tales of arcadia#wizards tales of arcadia#hisirdoux casperan#toa wizards#carter howard#tales of arcadia oc#carterdoux#toa oc#toa ocs#half bloods and hunters#alina foley (hbah)#toa incorrect quotes#tales of arcadia incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes
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darkling scene smash cutting to kaz saying "when the chips fall....it'll give me some comfort to know that you're with me............In The Shadows" to inej
inej replying with "wouldn't miss it sexy also i'll destroy the man who wronged you bad one (1) time"
abby im banging pots and pans im gnawing the walls. kanej is their own thing but they're darklina if leigh or the show would just LET ALINA GET NASTY
there's a lot of overlapping imagery with the four of them that i find compelling even though the show doesn't have a handle on either of those pairings or what it wants them to be at this point much less how it intends them to thematically overlap or diverge but. one of the things that's very baked into the grishaverse is worship as love, devotion as friendship, the everpresent specters of saints and gods in the lives of people who live amongst filth and violence.... naturally kaz and inej and alina and the darkling all have their own versions of being Devoted and Being Violent they're working through as well as like. light/dark/fate/eternity.... and yknow. knives and blades (the cut is a blade). in a more coherent story there would be a lot to dig into but even now like. it's yummy! there's a lot to excavate from this if you care enough!
#bc again like it's not shipping#the darkling and alina are not a pair the way kaz and inej are#but they're grappling with a lot of the same things and they bleed into each other with alina and inej and the darkling#kaz thinks he is to inej what the darkling is to alina#which is what makes him very much Not lmao#shadow and bone#they have a TON of things going on separately like leigh cares more about inej and kaz than she ever did alina so they've got plenty unique#but i LOVE the overlap in images#this is JUST the show im not making real kanej posts until i read the duology
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Was Aleksander power-hungry or wanted power to use it for the protection of his people?
This question is one of the most hotly debatable in this fandom and I decided to clear this out not by analyzing his words through the POV of other characters (who don't believe him and therefore the reader finds him a liar) but through his own perspective in "Rule of Wolves".
So let's take an objective look inside his own thoughts and find out.
His very first thoughts were how could he reclaim his powers, describing the whole experience as somewhat painful and confusing to him. His second were about Alina.
And these are his third ones. He explains how utterly worthless Nikolai and Zoya are to save Ravka. How immature and weak. Aleksander finds himself to be the only one able for this task. His powers, experience and general abilities are testament to that.
But note how he calls Ravka "his country". From the carved woods decorating his bedroom to his knowledge of "every pebble and branch" of it, this country is special to him. He loves it, feels a connection to it and wants to protect it.
(You just can't call the Darkling "unpatriotic")
He displays bitterness for his loss and Ravka's new state just verifies to him that his plans would only prevent this decaying fate.
Yuri: "Sankta Alina who gave her life for Ravka"
Aleksander: "Am I a joke to you?"
And indeed is he?
Aleksander displays a very strong resentment for the lack of recognition he has gained. His statement: "I gave my life for Ravka" probably doesn't only allude to his death from Alina's hands but also his total commitment in the protection of the Grisha and Ravka that lasted for centuries. He gave his life away by pushing his personal happiness and well-being aside and wholly dedicating his life and skills to a selfless goal. He wasted years, allies, soldiers, endured otkazat'sya Kings that rule him, a bitter mother and his own immortality only for others to hurriedly erase any memory of him once he's gone.
So it seems that his desire to be seen only stems from his long-awaited and secret wish for his actions to be recognized.
Based on the last screenshot, he views his actions as justified not because of a "power-hungry nature" but out of his efforts to help others. Whether these actions are justified or not depends on the reader.
I believe this is one of the most concrete evidence that Aleksander truly cared about the Grisha.
He felt intense anger for those who were ignorant and apathetic towards the Grisha's fate and he himself cared about who was gonna sit the Ravkan throne.
No matter how much humanity he shed as the years passed, it seems that he didn't shed all of it by the time of these books.
Apparently Aleksander had two main goals in this book:
- To protect his people and country as he always strived to do.
- For others to finally give him some credit and have their acknowledgment that yes, he has done something for this country all these years.
In order to help the Grisha and change their fates he needed to be in a position of strength, hence his desire to take the throne. He views himself as a fatherly figure towards his people. A protector and guardian.
But he also wants to become a Saint and king. For people to look up to him. So many Saints had done less than half in comparison to Aleksander and they still won people's love. Now it's his turn and he thinks he deserves it.
I'm adding a short parenthesis here.
His concern didn't only extent to the Grisha but to his blind, otkazat'sya followers as well.
He cared about what would happen in the battlefield and seemed ready to create nichevo'ya to protect them. Merzost is extremely painful but this "selfish" villain is ready to use it to protect his naive but innocent army.
A hundred of years ago Aleksander refused the King's gold as payment for his services. Instead he opted to plead for the construction of a palace. A home and haven for all the Grisha that were hiding out of fear from the persecution against them.
He saw his chance and took it to make the lives of his people a little better.
So this whole "the Darkling created the Fold out of his desire for power" was bullshit after all.
He wanted power but only to use it to end the wars. Ironically, the result of it (aka. the Fold) only aggravated the problem.
And the Darkling's dream never came entirely true. He gave them a home but never a safe life. Ravka was almost always at war, Grisha were never accepted, the Ravkan kings never paid much attention to the Grisha's problems regarding their role in society which placed them almost at the bottom of the food chain.
All these things worried Aleksander and pushed him to action both when he created the Fold and when he started the Civil War.
The Darkling has a very different mentality than those who don't have the burden of immortality on their shoulders.
Aleksander uses time as an advantage and has a remarkable patience. He bides his time and strikes when he sees the opportunity, leaving other people to die since they're only just a part of a whole. He probably thinks: "Well, I'll meet plenty more new otkazat'sya in the future so why should I be concerned for this bunch here?"
But the bleak future of the Grisha make him stop and think. They're the only reason why he stays and fight and why he proclaimed Zoya a Saint.
So it's obvious that Aleksander only used power for the benefit of his people and country.
- When king Yevgeni offered him a handsome reward, Aleksander turned it down and chose to appeal for a better future for the rest of the Grisha.
- When the wars didn't stop coming and Grisha were again getting killed, he tried to use merzost to augment his powers and put a stop to it.
- When he tried to use the Fold as a weapon with Alina at his side, he did it to place Ravka in a stronger position in comparison to his enemies.
- He viewed Nikolai and Zoya dangerous to the rest of the country.
- He was concerned of what would happen to the Grisha if Demidov became king.
- He was determined to save Ravka and lead it as their king and protector.
- Even though he thought of leaving, he stayed out of concern for the Grisha (again).
Contrary to the people who say that the Darkling began selfless but by the time of these books became selfish, it seems that he never lost his selflessness. He still kept thinking about others and his last moments he was unrepentant for his crimes since he did them for others not for himself. It's true that he had pride and an ego but rightfully so. No one else was as powerful or as capable as him to make a change and, honestly, no one else made a decent effort but him.
He also displayed a strong bitterness for the fact that others were so quick to forget him and his actions. He felt wronged that after all he had done, none wanted to acknowledge his own part in the protection of Ravka. He wanted to be seen and appreciated. His anger and indignation came from a place of injustice as he saw it. Whatever he did was labeled as wrong and people only feared him, never feeling gratefulness or love towards him. The Darkling wanted others to give him his due for what he went through, did and tried to do. Recognition after so many years of feeling invisible and hated.
It was something that even his enemies admitted about him:
The strongest evidence of his yearning to shield his country is how he willingly gave his life for it at the end. He would be tortured forever but at least his people wouldn't forget him and he would have fulfilled his desired role as a protector of his country.
#the darkling#pro darkling#aleksander morozova#shadow and bone#it's like you work your ass off for years on a project and somebody else gets all the credit and love#Alina did nothing (+ is still alive) and people worship her#all the other Saints never troubled themselves about the Grisha but they were still revered#but what about him? why can't they see that he sacrificed much as well? much more than all the other Saints combined#his exasperation is completely understandable#people wrote him off so quickly without admitting that he too played his part in the protection of the Grisha#but the rest of them couldn't see it because they weren't alive back when Grisha lived in caves. were burned in the stake#and killed each other to survive#classic ungratefulness#on another note I got out of my hibernation mode! see ya again in another six months 🫡😭#pro aleksander morozova#grishaverse#rule of wolves#ruin and rising#alina starkov#anti zoya nazyalensky#nikolai lantsov#the darkling meta#meta#grishaverse meta
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Listen. I like toxic fictional relationships. I don’t like toxic toxic fictional relationships.
Hope that clarifies it.
#LIKE.#I don’t like malina. but I like darklina.#I don’t like relationships where one partner sucks the life outta the other one while pretending to ‘care’ about them#this applies to Ollie/Amelia as well#the entire five minutes they were interesting was when they were at each other’s throats to murder each other. in episode 4.#then they go back to being mellow. and it gets AWFUL again.#my bullshit#also their mellow is not the javi/Amelia type of mellow. it’s the ‘he’s secretly strangling the life out of her’ type of mellow.#I like it when the darkling and Alina are at each other’s throats.#I like a ship when hating each other instils such INTENSE emotions into someone#not a ‘oh I love em’ but they’re slowly draining you because they want you to fit you in what THEY want you to be like#mal wanted Alina to be like him#so did Ollie#and I think THAT. is the biggest drawbacks.#both of these girls can’t fulfil their entire potential with THAT GUY. but when they hate a person they can be driven to achieve#GREAT HEIGHTS.#Amelia becomes Red. Alina controls her Stag smplifier and so much more hakdjdksj#It’s not the love. it’s the hate.#and then we have Javi. and also Aleksander!SIMP VERSION#now THESE BOIS.#:3#I wuv these boys#they deserve the girls they bring out the best in them.#thank you glad you enjoyed my brain dump :D
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I could probably actually get behind mals ending hm.
#sab spoilers#shadow and bone season 2 spoilers#shadow and bone spoilers#I've been sitting with it instead of doing hw like i planned and the more i think about it#the more im like Actually#im a book alina ending stan so while im chill with the direction the show is going to keep her in it if there is a season 3#I'm still not about it (also like...it is zoyas sl)#and the ending made sense for mal in the books too but i care a lot about. mal needing to find his purpose now#and who is he now without this thing that defined him his entire life#who made him indispensable and excellent at what he did#and finding freedom in something that was also so attached to this Thing he had#idk i could be about it i just gotta sit with it more#meta: mal oretsev#muse: mal oretsev#this also might be a mal x inej agenda
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