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siriuslysatorusimping · 2 months ago

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Shichigosan (a Physical Paradox extra)

I wanted to write something for shichigosan (aka seven-five-three, celebrated on or around November 15) since Eiji would be 5 this year and the twins would be 3!! I hope you guys like it and would love to know what you think!!

Just something a lil short and sweet for our Physical Paradox Goinko and fam!!

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2024

Rinko’s heart melted at the sight of Eiji when he stepped into the room, fully dressed and ready for the festival.

“Don’t you look handsome?” she cooed, unable to keep the grin from her face when he puffed his chest out proudly.

As if she needed more reasons to adore her son. The hakama paired with the patterned haori fit him perfectly. It made him look like a little man instead of her little boy. She couldn’t believe they were already celebrating his shichigosan. Her sweet boy was growing up way too fast.

All of their kids were.

She half-expected Maki or Mai to inform her that they were engaged any day now. She just hoped that they didn’t tell her at the same time.

“You look really pretty, momma,” Eiji stated matter-of-factly, stepping closer and tugging on her kimono. “So do you, Yumi.”

Yumika giggled, reaching for him once Rinko had secured the hifu around her.

“Nii-chan look hantom,” she replied, her hands clutching his haori.

“He does,” Rinko agreed, chuckling as she straightened, adjusting her obi as she did so. “Where’re your daddy and Shirou?”

“Shirou didn’t like his hakama,” Eiji muttered, fiddling with the green cords fastening his haori. “He said it felt funny, so Daddy’s talking to him about it.”

It didn’t surprise her. Shirou didn’t like being uncomfortable, and traditional clothes were practically the definition of uncomfortable.

Nodding, she released a quiet sigh before motioning for them to move.

“Go downstairs with Yumi, then,” she said, smoothing her kimono. “I’ll go check on the others.”

Eiji nodded dutifully, grasping Yumika’s hand tightly and guiding her out of the room.

“Can we watch cartoons while we wait?” he asked, and Rinko smiled.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She heard him asking Yumika what she wanted to watch as they descended the stairs, and she pursed her lips as she approached the twins’ room, hearing Satoru’s quiet voice, the frustration just beginning to bleed into his tone.

“–don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to–”

“I wanna match!”

“Then you gotta put ��em on, buddy,” Satoru replied, sighing. “I know they’re uncomfortable, but–”

“Itchy!” Shirou exclaimed, and Satoru released a heavier sigh than before. “Don’ wanna!”

“Then how about you and I match, yeah?” Satoru reasoned. “What if you and me wear–”

“Wanna match Nii-chan!”

Satoru stayed silent, and Rinko furrowed her brow as she assumed he tried not to let the exclamation hurt his feelings. But it probably did, anyway.

“Darling,” she called gently, stepping inside and trying to suppress her chuckles at the sight she was met with.

The situation felt so much sillier when she saw Shirou sitting half-naked on the floor, his arms crossed and features scrunched on his little face. Satoru, still clad in his sweats and t-shirt, knelt in front of him, pinching the bridge of his nose. Seeing his frustration sobered her instantly, and she moved to his side.

“Wanna match Nii-chan,” Shirou pouted, jutting his bottom lip out. “But don’t wan’ tose.” He pointed a tiny finger to the hakama neatly folded on his bed, a scowl causing his brow to furrow. “Itchy!”

A dilemma, to say the least.

They’d let Eiji choose his own attire, and he’d picked the traditional clothes without hesitation when he realized that he’d get to wear the same haori that Satoru had worn to his shichigosan. But Shirou’s clothes were new, so he had little motivation to wear them beyond wanting to be like Eiji. Which was clearly the issue at hand since he didn’t want to wear them while wanting to wear them.

Satoru ran his hand through his hair, his brow twitching as he clearly tried to remain calm.

“He’s been saying this since Eiji finished getting dressed,” he explained, his jaw ticking slightly. “We’d decided he wouldn’t wear the hakama and haori because they weren’t comfortable until he saw Eiji, so now we’ve been going back and forth because he wants to match.”

His eyes stared straight forward, jaw clenching and unclenching. Shirou remained thankfully oblivious to how upset his father really was, too busy glaring daggers at the itchy clothing on his bed.

“Darling,” Rinko began quietly, placing a hand on Satoru’s bicep to get his attention. He turned his head to stare at her, the hard lines of his face relaxing slightly when she just smiled. “Why don’t you go get dressed while I help Shirou? And then you can go see how pretty your baby girl looks in her very first kimono.”

Relief flooded his face as she spoke, and she lifted her hand to run it through his hair, watching his eyes slide closed when her nails scraped his scalp.

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding reluctantly before pushing himself to his feet. His gaze shifted quickly, taking in her appearance and pausing when he saw her obi. “New sash?”

She’d seen it when she took Yumika shopping for her kimono and couldn’t resist when she realized it would match her own, and Satoru’s, perfectly.

“Maybe,” she replied slyly, smirking at his narrowed eyes. “Thought it’d be a nice touch. You like it?”

He stared for a moment longer before releasing a heavy sigh and leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

“‘ll give you a nice touch,” he muttered, his tone drawing a smug grin to her face. “You look beautiful. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Rinko watched him ruffle Shirou’s hair quickly before retreating from the room, his footsteps echoing quietly as he trudged back to their bedroom to get dressed.

“Sweet boy,” she murmured, pulling Shirou into her arms and snuggling him close. “I’m sorry your hakama is itchy. If you don’t want to–”

“Wan’ match–”

“I know you do,” she soothed, carefully repositioning so her kimono didn’t crease while she rocked them back and forth. “But I want you to have fun today, and you can’t do that if you’re all itchy.”

“But– but Nii-chan,” he whined, clenching his little fists and pounding his lap. “And Yumi.”

Humming quietly, she rested her chin on the top of his head as she debated their options. She knew he wanted to match the others, and it wasn’t exactly ideal for him to be the only one not dressed like the rest of them, but there had to be a compromise of some kind. Eiji and Yumika were already dressed. Not to mention that they’d both chosen their clothes. Technically, this shichigosan was for Eiji and Yumika, so she wouldn’t ask them to change now, anyway.

“What if you only wore them for the pictures, then?” she offered. “You can match for the pictures, and then–”

“No!” he cried, tears forming in his eyes now. “Wan’ match–” he cut off as he hiccupped, and Rinko rubbed his back slowly.

“I know, sweetheart,” she murmured.

That complicated things further, but she wasn’t surprised. He didn’t care about pictures. He cared about being like Eiji and Yumika for the festival. It didn’t help that he clearly wanted to wear the hakama, and he just seemed upset that it was itchy.

She scratched his back, humming absently as her eyes drifted to the hakama. He didn’t want to be itchy–

“What if you could wear something comfy and match Eiji and Yumi?” she asked, picking the hakama up and then looking down to see Shirou wiping his eyes. “What if we make it so the itchy can’t get you?”

“No itchy?”

They’d gotten his clothes just a bit too big just in case he hit a last-minute growth spurt before the festival, but he hadn’t. So maybe he could wear something underneath them.

“Mhmm,” she agreed. “Do you wanna wear your favorite pants under them?”

His favorite joggers were starting to thin, anyway, and he was also beginning to outgrow them, but getting him to quit wearing them was a meltdown to deal with another day. He still loved them and didn’t want to quit wearing them, but that also meant he might be more willing to deal with the extra fabric. Plus, it was supposed to be a bit windy, so this could also be a way to ensure he stayed warm.

“Pans?”

She hummed in agreement again, grinning as he blinked rapidly, his excitement growing at the thought of wearing his favorite joggers.

“It’ll be like a little secret,” she whispered, leaning closer. “You can wear them under the hakama so you still match Eiji and Yumi, but the itchy can’t get to you. How’s that sound?”

He scrambled out of her lap, digging through his laundry hamper until he found his prize. There was a small stain on them, but the hakama would cover it anyway.

Chuckling, Rinko caught him when he tripped as he tried to yank them on as fast as possible. Tugging the hakama up over the joggers, she pressed her lips together to keep from giggling when the stiff fabric bunched up in some places. It didn’t matter to her if he looked a bit silly as long as he didn’t mind.

“Better?” she asked, grinning along with him when he just offered her a toothy grin. She held the haori up next, helping him slip his arms through and then fastening the green haori himo. “You look so handsome, too.”

“Like Nii-chan?” he asked, his brows pulled together. “Hanshom like Nii-chan?”

“Just like Eiji,” she agreed, kissing both of his cheeks and then lifting him into her arms as she stood. “Let’s go show the others, hm?”

“Leave it to you,” Satoru whispered in Rinko’s ear as they watched Eiji grasp each of the twins’ hands while they stood in line to get their chitose ame, “to think of something like that for Shirou.”

“It works, doesn’t it?” she replied defensively, quickly snapping a picture of their kids holding hands. “He’s comfortable, and he matches. I know you’ve been dying to say something about the little bulge from his joggers.”

They’d done their best to make sure it was hidden in the family picture, but she’d noticed Satoru barely containing himself every time he caught sight of it again. At least she knew that side of him hadn’t changed a bit.

His grin now said everything she needed to know. But she would take it over the dejected look he’d tried so hard to hide when Shirou had aggressively rejected the idea of only matching him.

“I wasn’t gonna point it out, but he is my son, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s–”

She cut him off with an elbow to his gut, rolling her eyes as he snickered wildly. A few other parents shot them disapproving looks, which prompted Satoru to smother his laughter with his hand.

“You’re the worst,” she deadpanned, fighting the smile as he pulled her closer to his side so he could wrap his arm around her waist. “Just awful–”

“You love me,” Satoru replied simply, pushing his shades up his nose. “But what I was saying a minute ago was that you’re so good with him. I dunno what I’d have done if you hadn’t come in when you did.” He paused to grimace. “Probably would’ve ended up just forcing him to wear the clothes because I didn’t know what else to do. I was just getting so frustrated–”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she countered quietly, nudging his shoulder with her own. “You were doing fine.”

“No,” Satoru grumbled, “I wasn’t. And I should’ve made sure the hakama would work before I bought it, anyway–”

“He picked it out because it matched Eiji’s,” she reminded. “You couldn’t have known it’d be uncomfortable.”

“I just didn’t know what to do–”

“It worked out,” she cut him off. “You were stressed because you wanted to have him dressed before you got ready, and he hurt your feelings, too.”

“He didn’t–”

“Darling,” Rinko chided, nudging him again. “It’s okay to admit it.”

“I know he didn’t mean he didn’t wanna match with me,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “S’not a big deal.”

She just hummed, leaning up to peck his cheek.

“I’ll let you tell yourself that for now,” she relented. “I know we’ve joked about Eiji being like you, but I think Shirou might just be your exact copy.” Pausing, her lips pulled up into a smirk. “S’what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, yeah?”

Her chest fluttered when he snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Which am I?”

“Neither,” she replied instantly, giggling when his grasp on her waist tightened so he could dig his fingers into her sides. Gasping quietly, she tried to stifle her snickers when she noticed other parents once again sending them nasty looks. “We’re in public, darling–”

“Then quit bein’ a brat in public,” he growled under his breath in reply, loosening his grasp. “You’re still such a tease. And your new sash is beautiful.”

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see what else is new later,” she murmured, grinning when he stiffened and sucked in a quick breath through his nose. “Come on. Looks like the kids got their candy.”

AN: Thanks for reading!!

I was researching Japanese holidays a while ago and came across shichigosan, or seven-five-three, (November 15), and thought it would be perfect to write something for Physical Paradox since Eiji and the twins are 5 and 3 this year. I know I’m a tiny bit late, but it sorta works because the festivals are usually held on weekends, anyway!

Fun notes that I didn’t make explicitly clear:

The kids’ haori himo (braided cords) matched their eye color. So Eiji and Shirou’s were green, and Yumika’s were blue.

I’ve been asked before about their kids being neurodivergent, and I just felt it made so much sense to have a lil piece of how they’d deal with something related to that. Shirou’s preference was inspired by a problem I had when I was little with how clothes fit and felt. If they felt itchy or scratchy or made me feel out of place, I would lose my mind, and it would be worse if I was still forced to wear them. So, Shirou’s thing with not wanting to wear the itchy clothes but not wanting to be left out or the only one not wearing the matching clothes not only felt realistic to me but fit something a toddler might struggle with even if they weren’t neurodivergent. Rinko’s solution is likely very unrealistic given Japanese culture, but I feel it fits her as a character because she is aware of these little brain nuances on top of the fact that sometimes, as a parent, you just have to roll with the punches as best you can even if it’s not what you wanted.

Also, I tried to keep the way Yumika and Shirou speak as accurate as possible without going too far down a rabbit hole researching toddler speech patterns otherwise, I would never have finished this.

I’m probably forgetting something, but I wanted to get this done before the weekend is over.

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siriuslysatorusimping · 3 months ago

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*Preview* Bittersweet Memories

Hi there. I said I might post a preview or blurb of this, so I decided to go ahead and do that. IDK if or when I'll finish this. It was more of a spur of the moment thing I started that's spiraled in my drafts. It's heavily inspired by The Vow, except Satoru is the one who loses his memory. I don't have timeline or anything else really mapped out, so this preview is a bit choppy. But essentially, they were married, and there was an accident(haven't determined what) that caused him to forget her and getting married, so they got divorced. Again, all the details haven't been figured out yet, but she's in charge of a Tokyo branch of her mother's bakery now. I haven't decided if it'll be something she always did or if she quit her job to do it after the divorce.

It's pretty damn angsty, tbh. But I'd love to know what you guys think!

Kiko's Masterlist | Buy me a coffee ☕️

*Preview* Bittersweet Memories

The bell above the door jingled, and Rinko called, “Welcome!” over her shoulder, “I’ll be right with you.”

Finishing her task, she turned quickly, her heart immediately thundering in her chest at the sight of Gojo Satoru staring at her in surprise.

Had he remembered? Was he here because he wanted to talk to her?

“Satoru–”

“This place is so cute!” a woman exclaimed, wrapping her arms through his and leaning into him. “Thank you for treating me, Satoru.”

The sharp pain in her chest stole her breath, and she swallowed thickly as she blinked the tears away. His memories hadn’t returned, or maybe they had. It didn’t matter now. What did matter was that he clearly didn’t want her anymore. He’d already moved on.

Smiling as brightly as she could, she forced enough air into her lungs to speak.

“Welcome,” she repeated, avoiding Satoru’s eyes by staring at the wall behind him. She could do this. She could keep going. She needed to keep going and accept that their marriage was over. That he wasn’t hers anymore. “What can I get for you?”

“A dozen of those.” Satoru pointed at the caramel miso butter cookies, his brow furrowed in thought. “And whatever she wants.”

Rinko ignored the ache in her chest, keeping the smile in place as she packaged the cookies.

He remembered that he liked the cookies, but he didn’t remember loving her. She guessed it made sense. He’d always had a sweet tooth.

She had to accept that he wasn’t hers anymore and that he never would be. He didn’t want her. He would never want her again.

“What do you recommend?” the woman asked, staring at Rinko curiously. “Everything looks so delicious. I heard that you’re based out of Kyoto?”

“My mother opened the main location in Kyoto,” Rinko confirmed, swallowing around the giant lump that appeared in her throat. “She decided to expand to Tokyo this year.”

“That’s precious,” the woman gushed. “This must be your dream, then. Following in your mother’s footsteps?”

The only difference was that she didn’t have a child like her mother did. Tears stung her eyes but she blinked to dispel them again.

“Something like that,” she finally replied. “We have some seasonal chestnut filled manju right now. I’d recommend those.”

At the woman’s excited nod, she placed a few inside a box and closed it carefully.

Stacking the containers, she accepted the cash Satoru held out, her skin burning when his fingers brushed against hers. Her chest felt hollow at the blank look he gave her as she handed his change back.

“Have a great rest of your day. I hope you enjoy the sweets!”

According to Shoko, it wasn’t anything serious. He was just dating again. Getting back out there. The knowledge didn’t comfort her. Though she didn’t know why she thought it might.

“Rinko-san,” Megumi called, sticking his head out from the back. “I finished sorting the inventory, so I’m gonna take a break.”

“Thanks, kid,” she replied absently as she rested her chin on her palm. “You can make yourself a drink, if you want.”

“Aunt Yuzu is gonna get onto you if you keep letting me have things for free.”

“Your Aunt Yuzu would be giving you even more things for free, and you know it.”

He grinned, disappearing into the back again and she heard the coffee machine just a moment later.

The bell on the door jingled, and she turned her head to welcome them. Her voice stuck in her throat at the sight of Satoru shifting his weight as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Um, hi,” he greeted awkwardly. “I’m– those cookies were really good, so…”

Of course he was back for the cookies. He’d almost given himself diabetes because of those damn things.

“They used to be your favorite,” she informed him as he trailed off, “so that doesn’t surprise me.”

“About the other day, if I’d known that this was your place, I wouldn’t have come in here.”

The air left her lungs as if he’d punched her, and she struggled to keep the hurt from showing on her face at his words. It stung. He really wanted nothing to do with her now.

Move. Get him his fucking cookies so he doesn’t have to look at you anymore.

Blinking, she felt her body moving, going through the motions of retrieving a box and placing cookies inside it.

“I meant– I meant if I’d known this was your place, I wouldn’t have– I wouldn’t have brought a date in here.”

She nodded mechanically, finishing her task and sliding the container across the counter toward him.

“I don’t see why you– if you want to buy your date dessert, there’s nothing stopping you,” she stated, wondering if that hollow ache she felt at the sight of him would ever fade. “It’s not like we have rules against couples here.”

His hand brushed against hers as he leaned closer across the counter. She tried not to flinch away.

“Listen,” he began, his voice quiet as his cologne filled her nose. The same cologne that still clung to some of her favorite shirts. “I’m sorry that I don’t– I’m sorry I’ve hurt you.”

“I’m sorry I don’t love you,” was what she was sure he stopped himself from saying. “I’m sorry that losing my memory also meant forgetting whatever made you lovable in my eyes.”

She always knew something like this was a possibility. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t remember whatever it was that made him think she was worth marrying when he’d never wanted to get married before. Losing his memory just solidified that whatever loose screw made him think she was the one for him had finally been righted.

Just like she’d always known would happen.

Finally mustering the courage to meet his eyes, she felt her chest split open at the sight of the azure depths staring back devoid of the love she’d grown so used to. She gave him the most genuine smile she could manage.

“I’m just glad you’re well enough to have your sweet tooth,” she replied lightly. “All that matters is that you’re happy.” even if that means you don’t want me anymore. “Have a great rest of your day.”

The door opened before he could grasp the handle, and Satoru’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the woman in front of him as hers widened in clear panic.

Why was she at his parents’ house?

“What are you–?”

“Rinko, you forgot the– Satoru,” His mother came into view behind her. “I didn’t realize you were coming over today.”

“Decided to drop by,” he replied, his eyes still on Rinko’s face. Why was she there? “Didn’t realize you still–”

“She’s my daughter, whether you accept that or not,” his mother stated firmly. “Rinko, dear, you almost forgot your food.”

“Right,” Rinko squeaked, turning briefly to accept the bag full of bento boxes. “Thank you again for lunch. You didn’t have to–”

“We wanted to,” his mother soothed, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Thank you for bringing the cake. Happy birthday, dear. Have a lovely weekend with your mother. Please tell her we said hi.”

“Of course,” Rinko agreed, extracting herself quickly and rushing past him.

“Be safe going home!”

Once she was gone, his mother turned to him, and he rolled his eyes slightly at the look in hers.

“Don’t start,” he sighed, running his hand through his hair. He really didn’t want to deal with one of her lectures. “I get it, you’re pissed that you lost the perfect daughter-in-law–”

“I’m not angry with you at all,” she denied, stepping aside so he could enter. “I’m just sad.”

“I know you wanted me to stay married–”

“It had nothing to do with you being married,” she cut him off. “I wanted you to give yourself some time, to give her a chance, before you decided to divorce her just because you didn’t remember her. It’s not your fault that you don’t remember marrying her. But Satoru, you loved her more than anything else in the world. If you gave yourself some time to know her again, I have very little doubt you’d love her just like before.”

“You’re forgetting that I never wanted to get married,” he stated, following her into the kitchen. He spotted part of a strawberry cake sitting on the counter, immediately locating a fork and taking a bite. “Why was she here, anyway?”

“Did you not listen earlier?” His mother sighed, exasperated. “She’s still our daughter, whether you’re married or not. And it was her birthday, Satoru. We invited her over to have lunch for her birthday.”

He swallowed thickly, glancing down at the cake.

“She brought this, then?”

“Yes, she did.” She let out another sigh, quieter this time. “You know, the very first time you introduced Rinko to us, you pulled me aside and said that you were going to marry her if it was the last thing you did. You stood right there with hearts in your eyes and a giant grin on your face as you told me you never wanted to be without her.”

At this point, she should just accept that she was self-destructive. Nothing about what she was doing was healthy. It did absolutely nothing to help her move on with her life. But maybe she didn’t want to move on with her life. Not when her heart still fluttered every time she saw him, even if it left her feeling hollow and empty afterward.

Her heart had certainly already shattered beyond repair by now. So really, what did a bit more damage matter?

The bell above the door jingled with his entry, and she greeted him as she always did, the crack in her chest chipping open a bit further.

“One or two dozen?” she asked, used to the routine by now.

His weekly visits were something to both dread and look forward to. It stung that he still loved the cookies so much but felt nothing for her. But what wasn’t to love about her mother’s cookies?

His gaze still held no sign of warmth or affection for her when he met her eyes, something she’d finally grown used to after his first few visits.

The obvious suspicion when he’d seen her at his parents’ house had shaken her more than she expected. Going there had been a mistake, regardless of whether his mother had invited her. They weren’t married anymore. There was no reason for her to spend time with his parents. She still loved them, and she knew they still loved her, but it didn’t mean she could just cross boundaries he’d clearly set.

She didn’t want to put a strain on their relationship, or be in the way when he found someone else and wanted to introduce them.

After all, he was getting back into the swing of life. Back to work, enjoying it like he always had, hanging out with friends and helping some of his students on the weekends. He would be happier now without her in the way.

“Just one dozen this time,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

Nodding, she grabbed a box.

“Any plans for the weekend?” she asked instinctively.

What was she doing? He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t want anything to do with her beyond getting his cookies.

“I have a date,” he replied absently, his eyes going wide when she froze. “I’m– I mean– no big plans. Just–”

“That’s–” Her throat went dry as she tried to keep her chest from ripping open any further. She couldn’t risk whatever was left of her heart spilling out in front of him. Not when he was moving on. He deserved to move on and be happy without her holding him back. “That’s good– great, I mean. I’m glad you have plans. You– you seem happy. I’m really glad you’re happy.” without me.

She needed to stop talking. Forget being self-destructive, she was probably making him wildly uncomfortable.

Placing the container with his cookies on the counter, she tried to pretend he was just any other customer as she smiled.

“Have a great rest of your day.”

“All that matters is that you’re happy.”

“I’m really glad you’re happy.”

Her words echoed in his head as he approached the bakery, guilt beginning to creep up like it had every time since he’d stupidly blurted out that he had a fucking date when she asked him if he had plans for the weekend.

Fucking idiot.

He’d replied without even thinking about who he was talking to, but he’d regretted it as soon as he saw the look in her eyes.

He might not have wanted to be married, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He didn’t want to make her suffer.

At least, that’s what he told himself despite the fact that he knew he’d broken her heart and looked the other way when she cried because he didn’t want to believe it was true. He hadn’t wanted to believe he’d completely forgotten years of his life. Years that apparently involved him getting married. The documents and pictures really didn’t lie, though. He knew his family wouldn’t lie about something like that, either.

Everyone said it wasn’t his fault. They said that it wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember her.

What he did remember was the look in her eyes when he’d asked her who she was when he woke up. Asked her why she was in his hospital room and why she was so close to him. The look in her eyes when he’d said he wanted a divorce because he’d never wanted to get married in the first place, and he couldn’t believe that he’d ever changed his mind on that. The sobs she’d tried to conceal as she packed her bags and left without a single protest.

She erased herself from his life so quickly that he’d wondered if she’d always planned on doing so. If she’d been waiting for a way out.

And then she’d appeared again in an instant, standing in front of him in a bakery his date had wanted to try.

Her face had filled with so much hope when she saw him, only to crumple in the next moment when she saw who he was with.

But yet, even after everything he’d done, she still greeted him with a smile and told him she just wanted him to be happy. That she was glad he was happy.

Who wants you to be happy? Who asks if you are okay?

The questions always died in his throat before he could voice them. It felt wrong to ask. Like it was a line he shouldn’t cross because it would be insensitive. Who asked their ex-wife, that they didn’t even remember getting married to, if she was okay after they’d broken her heart without even a second thought?

She clearly wasn’t okay, but she pretended to be. At least, she tried to pretend. But how the hell did he even know that? What part of his psyche just happened to remember what she looked like when she lied?

What he was doing wasn’t just mean. It was cruel.

“Welcome!” she called cheerfully when the bell jingled above his head.

Her voice made his heart speed up, and he blinked at the feeling.

She did have a very pretty voice. He’d noticed the first time he’d heard her speak when he woke up in the hospital. The relief that bled through her words when she saw him open his eyes had confused him at the time. The hurt that colored her tone when he’d asked her to leave still haunted him.

He was suddenly struck by the desire to remember how they’d met. What had he said to her? How had they ended up together in the first place? He’d never really been the relationship type. What had convinced him?

“One or two dozen?” she asked, her question pulling him back to the present. Her smile seemed forced, not reaching her eyes.

How did he know that? Why did he suddenly remember that her real smile made her eyes shine and crinkle at the corners? How was it that he knew her eyes looked like polished jade stone in the moonlight when she was excited?

“Wait,” she said, frowning. “I– sorry, I forgot I don’t even have a full dozen right now. But if you don’t mind waiting just a bit, I can get you a fresh batch?”

Why would she go out of her way to do that?

“Don’t you only have a half-hour till close?” he asked, checking the time. Wouldn’t that waste cookies? “I’ll just take whatever you have left–”

“It’s– I bake them by the dozen anyway, so I’d throw in the couple I have left and call it a day.” She pursed her lips to the side. “But if you don’t want to wait, I understand. Sorry, it was rude of me to ask. I can just–”

“I don’t mind waiting,” he rushed out, taking a seat at one of the small tables. “It’s not a big deal to me.”

She nodded, ducking into the back for a few minutes before reappearing.

“Coffee or tea while you wait? Do you still like–” She cut off, her voice cracking before she cleared her throat. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’m okay,” he stated, that familiar guilt threatening to boil over again.

Should he start a conversation? Or would that give the wrong impression? He didn’t want her to think he was… trying to get too familiar. But he felt bad. He felt like he should say something when she was going out of her way for him. Why did she do that? Why did she seem to care so much about his convenience at the cost of her own?

Before he could say anything, she disappeared into the back, leaving him alone in the small cafe area as the guilt ate away at him.

Was he crazy, or had she lost weight since she’d moved out? Her clothes seemed to fit her differently than they had months ago. Was that why his mother had given her extra leftovers?

Why did the idea of her not eating enough bother him so much?

He jumped when she placed the box on the table in front of him. His chest ached as he watched her step away quickly, retreating back behind the counter before he could even stand. Why did that bother him? Why was he suddenly wondering if she had moved on yet? Why did the idea of seeing her with someone else make him inexplicably angry when he was dating other people?

“On the house,” she informed him, waving him off when he pulled his wallet out anyway. “Since you had to wait.”

He’d barely noticed the time passing because he’d been so stuck in his own head. The warmth that seeped from the box into his hands felt nice. An oddly familiar sense of comfort filled him knowing he’d get to eat fresh cookies even though he couldn’t remember having done so before.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he argued, peeking into the box to see two dozen cookies neatly stacked. “Let me pay–”

“You know, they say time is money,” she joked, her smile faltering when he just frowned. “Really, Sa– Gojo-san, don’t worry. Thank you for being patient.”

The way her voice quivered as she corrected herself made his heart drop to his gut, and he sighed reluctantly.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But I’m paying for them next time.”

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

She repeated that to herself over and over as she forced herself to take deep breaths.

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

Because she loved him, she just wanted him to be happy. Even if that meant he didn’t want her anymore. Even if it meant he didn’t love her.

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

That was all that mattered. His happiness and well-being were the most important.

Life never worked out exactly as planned. So what if her entire future was completely different now? At least she’d gotten a few years to be the happiest she’d ever been.

He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

She would be content knowing he was living his life the way he wanted.

“Just one date with me, Kurisaki-chan,” Satoru implored, leaning towards her as they stood at the bar. “Just one date, and if you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you again.”

Her skeptical look drew a chuckle from him. He liked when she looked at him like that. Something about it made him want to tease her more. He gave her a small pout.

“I’d be so good to you,” he implored, debating getting on his knees and begging. Everything about her made him want to know her more, made him want her to know him more.

“Your history doesn’t say that,” Rinko replied, tilting her head and pursing her lips to the side. He was dying to kiss her. “We both know I’m not your type, Gojo.”

“What’s my type?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “What do you think my type is?”

“One-night stands,” she stated bluntly. “No strings attached, no feelings, no relationships.”

Ouch.

“I have feelings for you,” he informed her, his heart racing when she snorted. “Gimme a chance, Kurisaki-chan. I promise I won’t break your heart. I’ll take such good care of you. You just gotta promise not to break my heart, yeah?”

“Promise not to break my heart, yeah?”

The words repeated in his mind over and over and over again as he emptied his stomach into the toilet.

What kind of moron had he been?

Of all the things for him to promise. Of all the promises for him to break.

How could she even stand the sight of him after what he’d done to her?

“I promise I won’t break your heart.”

The look in her eyes when he’d told her he didn’t know why he would get married when he’d never wanted to before flashed through his mind. The hurt she made no effort to hide when he asked her to leave the house they’d apparently shared for years. He hadn’t just broken her heart, he’d shattered it and then walked right over the pieces so he could get cookies.

Avoiding her eyes, he shifted his feet uncomfortably while he waited his turn.

“How many today?” she asked lightly, her voice sending a fresh wave of guilt through him. “One or two dozen?”

“Whichever,” he replied, still unable to meet her eyes. How could she talk to him so casually? How could she just pretend he hadn’t hurt her so deeply? “Doesn’t matter.”

Her quick intake of breath had his gaze snapping to her face. The practiced smile paired with the sadness in her eyes made him feel sick again. He might vomit right in the middle of the bakery.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he blurted out, his gut dropping when she jumped. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a shaky laugh.

“For not knowing how many cookies you want?”

“I promised I wouldn’t break your heart,” he croaked, his throat closing as his shame threatened to choke him. “I–”

“It was a silly promise,” she cut him off, her brow furrowing as she pursed her lips to the side. “You couldn’t have possibly known what would happen.”

He’d never fucking deserved her love before and he sure as hell never would now.

“I knew you weren’t being serious when you said that,” she stated, shrugging. “I– I already told you I don’t regret marrying you. I don't regret giving you a chance. I don’t regret loving you, either. I just– I just hope you don’t–”

“I don’t,” he rushed, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’m– I don’t regret it even though I don’t… remember. But I wish I– I wish I could take back how much I've hurt you.”

AN: I included more in this preview than I originally intended but I got carried away and here we are. What'd you guys think? It's a lil angsty, huh?

#gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #goinko au #goinko angst #goinko preview #bittersweet memories #goinko bittersweet memories #gojo and rinko #rinko and gojo #gojo x rinko #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo and rinko au #gojo and rinko angst #goinko drafts #goinko au drafts

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siriuslysatorusimping · 1 month ago

Text

Locked Out (Gojo Satoru)

This is pretty much just idiotic fluff. University AU. I made a post like over a year ago about this idea and now here we are. I just wanted to post this first bit as a lil taste of what’s to come!

The First Key

Flipping through her notebook, Rinko hummed along with the quiet music filtering from the computer speakers as she added the occasional extra note.

Night shifts were one of her favorite things about working for the dorms. Most of the time, they were uneventful except for a midnight package pickup from a nocturnal student or someone forgetting their keys.

“Yo!” a deep voice greeted cheerfully, “Could I get a lockout key?”

Nodding, she didn’t bother looking up before swiveling her chair around to open the filing cabinet with the lockout forms.

“Name and student ID number?”

“Gojo,” he replied, rattling off his ID as well.

“Dorm number?” Rinko asked as she located his sheet and turned back to the desk. “D’you know the drill for–?”

She trailed off when she finally looked up from the paper in her hands.

People forgot to take their keys with them all the time when they bathed. The majority of lockout keys she’d seen were unfortunate students who finished their bath or shower only to find that they couldn’t get back into their room. He wasn’t even the first person she’d seen wearing nothing but a towel while they asked for a key that week.

But he was, by far, the most attractive she’d encountered yet.

Pale skin, perfect complexion—not a single blemish in sight. Skin like that shouldn’t even be possible for someone living in the dorms. Messy, white hair dripped occasionally as it clung to his forehead. Eyelashes that matched his hair framed eyes so blue they threatened to drown her.

Tall—so tall. Even if she weren’t sitting, he clearly towered over her. Very built. So many muscles. Did he have an eight-pack? The dark blue towel hung low on his hips left very little to the imagination. Dimples sat at the edges of a shameless grin adorning his face, perfect teeth on display.

A pretty boy who knew he was pretty. Just perfect.

“Two twenty-four,” he stated, and she blinked, trying to remember why he would tell her such a random number. “They gave the regular spiel about these keys at the start of last semester, but I honestly didn’t pay attention. Mind giving me a refresher?”

Dorm number. She’d asked for his dorm number. Lockout key—right.

His eyes seemed to sparkle at her while she gave a brief explanation, trying to ignore the heat that crept up her neck when his gaze wandered as she spoke. She had no doubt that his once-over mirrored the one she’d given him, except she did doubt her outfit was as flattering as his towel.

“Fill this out,” she stated evenly, placing the sheet on the desk in front of him. She turned away to open the key cabinet, locating the spare for his dorm. “Just the first row.”

He hummed his affirmative, and she held the key out when he slid the form back toward her.

“Thanks, Miss Desk Girl.” His fingers brushed against hers as he accepted the key. “Be back before you know it.”

Sending her a wink, he tapped the desk with two fingers before turning to walk to the stairwell, leaving her staring at his towel-covered ass until it disappeared from sight.

“You didn’t think to get dressed?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

The towel was even lower on his hips than before as he handed the key back to her.

“Only had fifteen minutes,” he replied, tilting his head to the side innocently. “Took me a while to find my keys once I got back inside, and I didn’t wanna get in trouble for taking too long just because I threw on some shorts, ya know?” His lips pulled into a small smirk. “Plus, I figured you might not mind getting another look since you were kinda drooling earlier–”

“You won’t get in trouble for putting clothes on,” she cut him off, her face burning at being called out for staring. She scribbled her name in the box to confirm he’d returned the key. “The fifteen-minute rule is just to make sure you actually bring the key back. Most of us don’t mind as long as you don’t take forever or you get it back before our shift is over.”

“Yeah?” He reached to take the key back. “What time does your shift end? I’ll have this back before–”

“Doesn’t matter since you’re already here. But for future reference, please put clothes on before you come back.”

“It’s okay to admit you like the view,” he teased, bracing his elbow on the desk. “I definitely like my view. Though, it feels kinda unfair since I’m the only one in a towel. I could bring you one to even things out–”

“I’m good, thanks.”

AN: what do you guys think?? I know it’s short, but I did say it’d be a mini series :)

#gojo x rinko #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x oc #goinko au #locked out #goinko locked out #gojo satoru x original female character #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic #college goinko #jjk college au #college au

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