#and also a planter with constellations on it ^_^ its very nice

[milkyway-galaxary]

I have, so many bird things. Kiwis included :0 like hit mutual Kiwi.

[rorja]

Unseen - shoko x reader

° summary: shoko meets reader on a random afternoon in a cafè managed by her parents. She's immediately attracted by reader's strangeness, especially because she claims that she's able to see ghosts but doesn't know about the existence of cursed spirits.

• cafe!au, reader can see ghosts, use of she/her pronouns, airhead-like reader. [spoilers about the hidden inventory arc]. Shoko centric. 10k word count.

▪︎a/n: this is our first os on tumblr, english is not our first language so please be kind <3 - 🔖divider credits to: saradika

Shoko Ieiri never acted on her impulses. That’s why when she spoke that afternoon, suggesting to catch the metro and drop at a casual station instead of staying amidst the busy streets of Tokyo, name-dropping places they were familiar with nonetheless, Gojo and Geto promptly stopped their banter and began to walk towards the nearest station. It would’ve been fun, was the silent agreement between the three of them, to explore places they haven’t had the chance to explore because of missions and such. It was also a nice way to fully take advantage of the rare free time they had in their hands. No missions. No curses that required their intervention. No corpses waiting motionlessly on a metal table that reeked of sterile alcohol. Merely three students that got out of school grounds to enjoy their afternoon.

That was how they ended up at your parents’ café. A little rustic heaven that carried the fragrances of fresh coffe beans together with baked goods, both salty and sweets, handmade and carefully placed in front of the wooden shop window. Peeking amongst the veneer ivy plant, ever so green and bathing contentedly under the golden sunlight, the warmth coming from the yet too hot bread. The smell of it reaching the trio and hugging them ever so gently, inviting them inside even.

One of the first things that caught her attention just as easily were the many plants around, from the smaller ones under the counter sitting nicely on unevenly cut bricks, to the ones hanging from the ceiling. Some others sparse elegantly here and there in different pots of different sizes, but each and one of them —along their sometimes funny pots— helped in creating a very cozy atmosphere. A pleasing one that mixed well with the white and woody brown on the ceiling, the walls, the tables, even the rugs probably handpicked with love… everything in there was just carefully placed in a way to put everyone at ease. To make you feel relaxed. Which was already something acquired in the color choice and the usage of that uncountable number of plants, Shoko thought vaguely. It definitely was not her cup of tea, neither the usual kind of cafés she would be seen at, opting for something more modern and known as a subtle reassurance of sorts. But there was something in this well-hidden gem that was so enticing. Like a spell that gently encouraged her to come closer, to take a peek at those baked goods as small children used to.

And Shoko thought for once, that she really didn’t want to fight it; gladly waving her white flag and surrender to the appeal of the café. She had nothing to lose. Maybe, she briefly wondered, those sandwiches were as good as they appeared to be too.

Her coffee was on the way. The table Gojo pushed them to offered a nice view on the white counter and its coffee machine, where the woman that got their orders was working dutifully. An herbal tea for Geto. Hot chocolate with a lot of cream and some kind of colorful sprinkles on top (only green and pink, in a n exact order) for Gojo. A simple black coffe for Shoko. It was funny to depict their differences even in something as simple as their go-to drinks in a café, it further proved once again what a messy match they were nevertheless. Messy but never mismatched.

Shoko looked around, her eyes scanning lazily the interior dotted by different slivers of terracotta and painted plastic planters everywhere her eyes landed. From the small constellations of plants near their feet to the bigger, main ones gently swaying over each person’s head. Like dandelions dancing in their air, tenderly moving by the gusts of wind coming from the door every time a new customer entered. No one seemed to pay attention to those subtle but graceful dance steps, preferring to lower their heads over their computers or chatting with their friends just to erupt in loudly chuckles and whispers that hardly were respectful for the ones working. Her friends too, unfortunately, falling in that category with their nonchalant conversations —even though Geto tried to scold Gojo, his words seemed to have no effect at all, the latter still going on with his yap on the latest game he played recently.

“’M going to smoke” she was quick on her feet, her eyes previously catching a glimpse of a door that surely lead outside given the structure of the café. The boys only nodded distractedly at her.

A cork board stood near the door, slightly scraped at its edges as probably placed there from a long time, but the many sheets placed there only acted as an indicator that it was still used to this very day. One being pinned in there from just four or five days at best as the paper was in seemingly better conditions, a photo of a cat in the center of it. Bright red, bold letters stating that the cat went missing last Thursday in that neighborhood.

She didn’t put a lot of thoughts on it, discarding the missing notice to push the door open. It was a small garden with few discarded chairs to sit on here and there, well-maintained just the same as the other plants in that café. Surely the people who worked there seemed to have a big appreciation for plants, going as far to take care of them lovingly. A bush near her feet only confirming her thoughts, tiny drops of water still sitting on the foliage.

Her hand dipped in the pocket of her skirt to retrieve the lighter, cigarette sitting idly on her lips now. Relief growing instantly from the first drag, back relaxing against the wall near the door as her eyes wandered around. Only in that moment she realized that she wasn’t exactly alone in that garden. Indeed there you were, hunched over a bush. Maybe one of the customers, Shoko thought absentmindedly in between a drag and another. Ashes falling on the ground silently, as if not willing to interrupt whatever you were busy into.

It happened when the cigarette was still burning, tip glowing red weakly while reaching steadily its end, that Shoko noticed something weird about you. Her brows furrowing as she stared into your back, always facing the wall but now pushing a white plastic plate filled with… milk? More inwards toward the bush. Your hand moving in repetitive gestures, almost as if emptily caressing nothing. There was nothing in there, neither traces of a cursed spirit or a cursed spirit itself. A blank spot filled with nothing if not air. There was not a trace of cursed energy flowing in your body.

So, what were you doing then?

“Uhm…” Shoko’s voice ringed in the air. Another light touch at the base of the cigarette, another amount of ashes falling. “Are you okay?”

You turned around, back straightening upon hearing an unfamiliar voice. That garden was your precious and very needed breath of air, often coming there to seek a break from the usual smell of coffee beans and still warm bread, fresh off the oven. It was unusual for the clients to come out here, your mother the only one crossing that door to call you back if in need of more hands.

“Yes?” You answered carefully, not exactly understanding what the girl might refer to. It must have been visible on your face, your brows furrowing in genuine confusion, at the unusual question as if it’s not like you were doing something weird.

It was only when the brunette eyed your hand wearily that you connected the dots. Oh, the cat! The realization only making you want to burst into a laugh.

“Oh, you mean him?” You smiled fondly at the black and white cat that was now sniffing the milk, before tentatively licking it. He was so cute, warming enough to you and accepting your caresses with soft, appreciative purrs as he kept drinking the milk. “Sadly, Tanaka-san will never see his adorable cat anymore”.

●

Shoko kept that bizarre meeting for herself, not finding it worthy to tell Geto or Gojo. Kept the same way a child would keep its secrets, a personal memory to explore once alone in the dim lights of her room before falling asleep. For some reasons she found herself unable to stop thinking about it, her now teased curiosity always appearing in her mind under the disguised image of the café, only to come back to you.

She discovered that the café was run by your parents, occasionally seeing you taking the orders of some salary man with his head down on his computer or at the cashier, exchanging money and receipts while your father was busy with the coffee machine. Some other time she’d trace your figure in one of the far-away tables, school uniform yet to be discarded for the white apron she was growing accustomed to. And Shoko’s visits grew. By a lot, now becoming a number that hardly could be counted within ten fingers. It would go the same way each time, always the same dance where she would choose the table near that new coppery pot on the side, then order the usual black coffee (and a sandwich too on rare days). Afterwards she would walk to the door on the back leading to the garden, a cigarette sitting idly on her lips, sure to find you there busy in some weird antics again. Just like the first time she’d met you.

As a matter of fact, you were always up to something she couldn’t comprehend. Like that one afternoon she had found you hanging numerous wind chimes in a corner, too busy humming something to notice her leaning on the wall and staring. Acting unbothered once again, as if she was the weird one for asking to have a sort of explanation and questioning your doing. As if hanging that many wind chimes wasn’t weird at all and Shoko’s perplexed stare was pointless to begin with.

“My neighbor hated these,” you had said that afternoon before Shoko could even open her mouth to make the same question “now that I’ve hung them up, I’m sure he’ll never come to ask me for favors!”

Shoko had simply nodded, breathing the smoke out from her mouth. Not asking further than that as it proved to be useless. “Is he a wild animal?”

That seemed to catch your attention, turning to face her with a confused glance. “What?”

“Seems like you want to keep away an animal” Shoko had explained, under the soft dingles coming from the wind chimes. The wind stirring away the smoke coming from the cigarette when too near to you.

“No? He’s just dead” And oh, you had answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that Shoko ended up widening her eyes for a very fraction of second. There was a first time for everything, even a first time of hearing something as strange as that.

Shoko Ieiri was rarely one to chose silence, especially when faced with such odd words. That afternoon had been the very first time she voluntarily chose to stay silent.

●

It had happened again. Every time she’d meet you, you were always up to something that went beyond her logical understanding. This one time you were just a few steps away from the entrance of the café, in one of the many narrow streets of the neighborhood, kneeled and busy recollecting the books fallen from your school bag whilst mumbling something that was hard to make out with the distance. You didn’t even realize that Shoko was walking towards your direction, attention still focused on the ground where your books were lying.

“…-’ve changed address. Lives on the third floor, or at least that’s what he told me the last time he ordered his coffee” silence, then a resigned sigh. “I don’t know what to say, he never talked about it in front of me”

One, two, three… five.

There books were now back inside the bag safely closed. It was in that moment, while you were standing up on your feet again and fixing the bag on you shoulders that you noticed Shoko staring back at you. Floreal scent with rich and deep notes reaching your nose first and betraying her silent presence, most probably busy wondering what must’ve happened for you to kneel down in the first place.

“Oh, it’s you!”

The silence between you two pregnant with confusion, as it always has been since the first moment you had met her. A dynamic you two seemed to have accepted and easily fell into, prompting you to clear your throat and say something. Shoko standing there, arms crossed on her chest. Waiting for you to explain yourself, no matter how much it would take. You were somehow relaxed to know that she would’ve listen to you.

“Miyazaki-san. She asked me if I knew where her husband was” Shoko blinked once. No one was in that alley with you at that moment, and she was quite sure of it. Sure of her eyesight at least, but indeed after meeting you she was slowly starting to questioning it too. Both her eyesight and her own abilities as a Jujutsu sorceress.

“Ugh! She seems to not understand that the bond with her husband is starting to wear off. A lot of time has passed and of course, the pain is not as strong as before. That’s why she isn’t able to find him, or she lose sight of him!” You explained to her, annoyed with the situation that Shoko failed to grasp. Who was the lady again? Did she disappear before she was in the alley? But then again, she had heard your voice alone. As if you were busy speaking alone within the walls of the alley and nothing more.

Yet, once again, Shoko found herself falling in step with you towards the café.

“I was ignoring her at first because it’s starting to get on my nerves how se fails to understand this simple thing, but she’s really stubborn. And insufferable too. So she ripped my bag” another exhausted exhale coming from your mouth. Shoko listened in silence, trying to follow your side of the story. “Can you believe it? She asked me if he has a lover!”

And of course it happened again. And again, again. Whenever Shoko would walk up to the café, you would always be either there or in one of the alleys near. You, who would always be too busy in another one of your strange shenanigans.

Shoko, after a long and hard day stuck inside that room that reeked of sterile alcohol and decaying bodies inside of Jujutsu High, came back to the café. Dutifully following the routine she had unconsciously established in her head, walking to the ever-closed door in the back after drinking her coffee. For once, it was you having followed Shoko outside —having been placed on cashier duty per your father’s request while he finished getting the bread out of the oven.

She’d always lean with her back on the wall, glowing cigarette between two fingers while she breathed the smoke out, careful to tip her head up for it to disappear as quick instead of latching on her clothes.

(Or worse, your clothes. That being the main reason behind her actions, not wanting you to smell of nicotine and cheap packs bought a bit away from Yaga’s eyesight. It wouldn’t be fair to serve the customers while smelling of cigarettes now, wouldn’t it?)

And you would lean a bit close to her. Each meeting mending a distance that seemed too big, too intimidating at first. Now it was only a matter of mere steps against a colder wall.

“Is there a cat or an angry wife following me?”

You are staring, the hidden message behind her words. Enough to make you snap out from your thoughts but not enough to make you look elsewhere out of embarrassment.

“No… you have a weird aura today” you said, tilting your head to try and figure out what was wrong in that girl you had found yourself spending more time with. Something familiar, that you had met already many times before.

“Hah? Let’s hear it”

Shoko’s amusement glowed in her eyes like the burnt tip of the cigarette, solely to fall like ash on the ground once you finally answered her.

“Did you touch a dead body?”

Shoko widened her eyes. The now burnt cigarette dropped near her shoes with a muted thud, but in that moment it was louder than any thought in her mind.

●

Ieiri Shoko lived, studied and (already worked) in the world of Jujutsu. Seeing creatures that didn’t fit the commonly known criteria of reality, that redefined the laws of the reality they all lived in and fiercely fought the laws of what supposedly was their nature, was something she had to grow up with. That was normal for her.

However, listening a common girl talking about her ability to see and talk with dead people but unable to see curses on the other side of the street (your confusion every time Shoko would try to explain their existence to you was genuine; you were a non-sorceress, there were no doubts about it), was completely astonishing. Absurd, even. Shoko shrugged it off by calling you “weirdo” (or so Gojo would’ve done) but never once she stopped thinking about it. From the day she figured out the last piece of the puzzle, directly coming from your mouth on top of it, Shoko felt her brain totally fried.

There has always been something about you that pulled her forward. Teasing her curiosity further, prompting her to close that distance that kept you two slightly apart when leaning against that wall, inching her to solve that anomaly that was your reality. A reality that you had accepted and found a balance with.

And so it hasn’t been that long before Shoko figured out that every person you mentioned had really existed at some point in that very same city. Shoko thought that it wasn’t unorthodox for someone in their society to fully commit to a specific side of the gruesome art that was jujutsu nonetheless, but not being able to see cursed spirits was something she had never heard of. It was impossible.

That was the reason behind her current predicament.

“Sensei, do you think is possible?”

Yaga didn’t answer immediately, dark sunglasses covering his shock about the unusual question. Taken aback firstly by the many ‘in a hypothetical scenario’ that Shoko had used as an introduction of sorts for what she has asked. Secondly, it was Ieiri Shoko. It was rare for that student of his to blatantly show her genuine interest like this.

He pushed the sunglasses up his nose. “Ieiri, our world is so complex that the birth of a singularity as the one you’ve told me about, wouldn’t surprise me. Either way I wouldn't deny its possibility”

“Therefore you aren’t absolutely sure of it” Shoko answered, eyes narrowed at her professor’s words. Yaga simply nodded.

“With absolute certainty I can tell you who’s about to die” and before she could say anything else, ask anything else regarding the whole situation that was slowly eating her brain away, Yaga walked to Gojo, scolding the guy for his unfair trick pulled in the middle of the training session he was having with Geto.

“Therefore you aren’t absolutely sure of it” Shoko answered, eyes narrowed at her professor’s words. Yaga simply nodded.

“With absolute certainty I can tell you who’s about to die” and before she could say anything else, ask anything else regarding the whole situation that was slowly eating her brain away, Yaga walked to Gojo, scolding the guy for his unfair trick pulled in the middle of the training session he was having with Geto.

●

“Which school you go to?”

You were sitting at her usual table, right in front of her with that white apron on. That day the café was slow, few clients sitting here and there typing on the keyboards or enjoying their drinks with hushed words. Far away from the usual bustling that would greet Shoko each afternoon, that would keep you busy serving dishes and drinks with that green tray you knew how to balance in one hand. There was no such thing today, which has lead you to sit at that table near that coppery plant pot, watered a bunch of minutes before by your mother.

Shoko blinked, the gentle but sour steam coming from the mug a pleasing distraction that she welcomed half heartedly. Without asking a permission you had plopped in the vacant chair and started a conversation out of nowhere, taking her by surprise. You seemed to do that a lot, a characteristic trait of yours that up until that day has never failed.

“I’ve never seen that uniform around” you watched as Shoko placed the mug on the table, the tips of her hands twitching slightly at the loss of that burning feeling.

“Jujutsu High School, we study how to exorcist cursed spirits” her answer came in a mild sarcastic tone, as if saying something that was evidently false and waiting carefully for your reaction. For Shoko it was a challenge of sorts, an absurd one which only purpose was to expose who was the one lying.

But you nodded, like you fully understood the meaning of those words and thus not prying. Accepting them as an absolute truth.

“Cool. Is it in the city centre? Is it private?”

Shoko pondered her words. You really didn’t falter at all, huh? “Yes and yes"

“Ah, I’m jealous! I go to an all-girls school”

“Are there some ghosts in yours?”

“Nah, just the one in the third bathroom on the second floor that bothers you to play…” your hand slammed on the table and in a heartbeat your laughter filled the café. Something in her’s expression making you weak and expose your own joke. “I was kidding. That is the legend about Hanako, didn’t you know it?”

Shoko chuckled, a forced one just to go hand in hand with you. A smile tugging the corners of your lips at that, chin now resting on your palm as you hitched closer to her. “Anyway, no ghosts. Just the old headmaster who shot himself in his office after admitting bankrupt”

A polite chuckle leaving her lips once again at your… joke? She wasn’t really sure, but at the same time she didn’t want to damped your mood. Neither she didn’t want to say something that could threat the smile you were now wearing.

“Oh yes!” She sipped her mug of coffe as you clapped your hands together. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Shoko shook her head, lips still sitting on the border of the mug as her eyes glinted with confusion. Did she give you such an impression?

“Ah! I thought that one of those guys— one of the two you came the first day with…”

So she wasn’t the only one silently observing, huh?

●

“Look at that girl and tell me what you see”

Gojo let out another exasperated sigh, dramatic enough for the odd request just received in that weird day. Feeling somewhat baffled by the ongoing ordeal. Number one, Shoko asking him to go drink something together? Weird. Number two, Shoko insisting on her choice for the café instead of leaving the decision in the hands of the winner of a bloody fight between him and Geto? Something was absolutely not right here. Number three on that list, not only did he followed her like the good friend he was, she had him waiting outside for the arrival of a certain girl!

Gojo Satoru had his own fair share of weird things happened since he got enrolled at Jujutsu High, but this? This could easily make it to the top five, to be completely honest.

“Mhhh” he brought his hand to his chin. Head tipped slightly for his glasses to slip further on his nose, allowing him to see the picture in those bright colors that would often hurt his eyes. A dramatic mannerism sprinkled with some hints truth, just like the hot chocolate in front of his eyes. After some moments he pushed his glasses up, effectively hiding his eyes and turning to Shoko with an idiotic smile.

“She isn’t my type!”

“I didn’t mean that, idiot. Use your six eyes on her” Gojo shrugged but eventually did as told. He silently prayed for it to end fast so he would be able to dig in his hot chocolate.

Gojo shook his head vehemently. “Uh no… nothing”

He stopped once he saw Shoko’s furrowed brown, contemplating something in that head of hers. Arms crossed on her chest and coffee going completely forgotten on their table, which was really unusual for her. Whatever situation she found herself in with that girl, clearly was something that big. In the two years they had known each other, nothing has ever gotten Shoko so invested. Neither Yaga’s difficult tasks (or final tests, as the old man enjoyed calling them) at the end of every year.

Gojo took the spoon, ever so carefully scooping up the cream with the colored sprinkles before swallowing it. An appreciative noise erupting from his chest just like a happy kid. “Are you trying to give me some lectures about the inner beauty of people? I mean, it’s not like she’s bad-looking but…”

“You see her like a normal human being, so? Not a trace of cursed energy flowing? Nothing else?”

Shoko quickly put an end to whatever his mind has come up with, returning to the main reason she’d brought him here in the first place.

“I told you already, didn’t I? Stop asking, I want to eat now”

Shoko couldn’t say anything to that. If it was true that there was not an hint of cursed energy in y/n then that only meant that she was a sort of singularity herself. Just like Yaga had told her days prior. All the theories she’d made, all of her analysis, lack of records in each archive… everything threw in the trash with only a glance.

There was no ethical explanation about your ability. That was the absurd thing for her.

Her shoulders fell. “Order whatever you want, I’ll pay for your effort as promised”

Not like he needed it, Gojo was just very fond of being a nuisance for her. So he didn’t let her repeat twice, pinpointing the next few sweet treats written on the menu for the next time the old lady would walk to them.

“There’s something though,” Gojo added while observing you and Shoko exchange a greeting gesture with an amused expression, “her heartbeat incresead!”

●

Shoko run from the station to the address you had sent to her earlier through an unusual sms. You told it was important, an urgent matter that woke her brain up with possible and different scenarios as to why you were on the streets at one in the morning. So she got up, dressed quickly in her uniform and tried to reach the location as fast as possible. Didn’t matter if she was signing away her school records by breaking the curfew, sneaking out at ungodly hours of the morning.

And you were there. Easily spotted, sitting motionlessly on the dark and wet sidewalk with a wretched expression on your face that was painful for her to watch. Big grins like the ones you often had on your lips when in the garden suited you most. Yet, you were there. Incredulous widened gaze fixed on the asphalt in front of you.

“y/n, what happened? Are you hurt?” You had your head lying between your hands and when Shoko finally reached you, you did nothing. Acknowledging her presence by sitting straight on that dirty sidewalk only, your pout more evident as you tried to keep your tears in, fighting your breakdown at the best of your capabilities. Still like the waters of a river, gloomy like the rain that fell that same evening.

Shoko’s hands twitched slightly. You didn’t even look at her, that simple missing gesture making her heart fight violently her ribcage in a tumultuous uprising. You, who didn’t even greet her with your sweet words or a gentle wave of your hand. Something was very wrong, and the thought only made her growing nervous in her stead.

When you spoke, the corners of your mouth trembling visibly, her shoulders fell. “Today I helped a girl filling her fridge”

Shoko blinked once, twice. Trying her hardest to put together the information you willingly let out, trying to understand the meaning behind your words. What was so tragic about filling a fridge? Surely there must’ve been something else… right? “What?”

“She asked me to fill her fridge because she knew her mother would’ve gone to check if she was taking care of herself properly when she was alive and—” a long sniffle, “of course I had to do it and I waited here. I saw her mother going in and then leaving the house completely heartbroken and—” you kept telling her, hiding your face from Shoko and hitting the ground repeatedly with your foot “the girl thanked me but I can’t stop feeling… like this. Because her last wish was to not make her mother worry”.

Your rant eventually came to an end. Another sniffle, head hidden away between your arms and pressed against your knees, then a heart breaking scream. One that Shoko thought you needed. In this moment, faced with your raw pain, she couldn’t keep questioning wether what you saying was true or not. Wether what you were telling was real or a mere fruit of your imagination, if she was indulging and giving all of he attention to a bunch of lies. She didn’t really care right now about the truth, about all what she has done since meeting you, silencing her own thoughts and her personal doubts for one night only.

You were clearly suffering, and if she could’ve helped you in any way feeling you better, then she was more than glad to do so.

Without a second thought, she sat close to you. Closer than any other time in the garden of the café, your shoulders bumping together as you kept your face hidden.

“So…” she started tentatively, “when you see them, you help them too?”

Her curiosity got the best of her, not really sure how to steer the conversation from here on. It was something she was unfamiliar with, but she didn’t want to undermine your point, your feelings. So she did what she best at: stalling, trying to get a reaction out of you in order to grasp a sliver of your truth. It’s what she did on the rare occasions Satoru would get mad, and it always worked. Here she was, doing the same thing with you, fidgeting with her fingers as you answered with a whined ‘yes’. Another first time, this time one where Shoko had to use all of the empathy stored deep down in her body and soothe your heart. It seemed like you never stopped surprising her— never stopped coaxing her out of the cozy, mundane shell she’d found and claimed safe.

She tried again. “I know how you might feel. In what I do, helping not always make us feel that sense of satisfaction we seek”

A beat.

Then a gentle hum. “…it’s the first time it happens to me”

Shoko wanted to laugh. She could still remember the traces of sadness lingering around her body, having been at your place so, so many times before, not really knowing what to do or how to get rid of that pain, clueless on who to ask for advices too. But if her life was one that had succumbed to the helplessness of this selfish society way before, you, on the other hand, could at least count on her. Or at the very least that was what she willingly promised to you with her silence. No sugarcoated words or faux promises that everything would be fine in the end, just a solid shoulder to cry all your tears on.

“It will alway get worse”

Shoko tried again, a tiny chuckle escaping past her lips. Her hand coming to rest on your shoulder in a clumsy act of reassurance.

“Come on, let—”

You didn’t let her finish the sentence. Throwing yourself in her arms, hugging her tightly against your chest hoping that she would understand what you didn’t trust your voice to mutter out. Shoko stilled for the second time that night, but her hands found your back instinctively. Almost automatically. Her body taking over her roaring mind for once, beating it in a matter of a bunch of seconds, patting your back awkwardly in a gesture of comfort.

For the first time that night, you finally looked at her. A sudden relief shooting through her veins when she noticed that your tears had dried up and a small tentative of a smile curled your lips. “Shoko?”

“Yes?”

“I need a cigarette” Shoko didn’t try to push it. Her hand dipped in the pocket of her wrinkled uniform’s skirt, glad that she didn’t forget the pack with the lighter at the dorm as she would sometimes do while in hurry. She hand it one to you, silently watching you lighting up one from the pack and leaving it on the sidewalk as it slowly consumed itself.

An homage, as you had breathed out later, because the soul you helped out was a smoker just like her.

The cigarette consumed itself steadily, ashes scattering around swayed by the nightly wind. Shoko stayed there close to you, closer that she’s ever been to, staring as the glow slowly died out for as long as you needed to. Only when the cigarette burnt completely she dared to look for your eyes, just to find you already with your puffy eyes on her.

“Thank you”

Shoko gulped down her bubbling nervousness, hoping you didn’t catch neither a glimpse of it. “You shuldn—”

“You’re a good friend”

●

Time became a blur. Going by far too quickly for Shoko to keep up with her mixed thoughts. Her growing doubts only adding fuel to an already burning flame, sustaining it, making it bigger than before. A blurry picture that smelt like the smoke she would often times let out from her cigarette. If her only certainty after school was to indulge the guys in whatever arcade they had set their eyes on, mostly on the free rare afternoons where missions wouldn’t require their intervention, now even that one single thing begun to shake. The solid and steady base of a boring life slowly crumbling —after meeting you.

Now she would hop on the first train heading towards the district of your parents’s café, waiting for you with a coffe mug at the table she kind of reclaimed as hers if you still weren’t home from school, leisurely spending the whole time talking about trivial matters. From your day at school to a tiny rabbit ghost that chased you to the garden. From the persisting chase of the angry wife again to you asking about her day, her school, the friends you have seen her coming to the café the very first time. Then, she would come back to campus with the last train available on the departure timeline.

Some other nights Shoko would meet familiar faces, sorcerers coming back from missions that involved moving on other cities, full of scars and fresh scratches that would need a basic medical treatment. Nothing much physically, but they would drag their steps a bit, tiredness growing heavy on their limbs and exhausted eyes that would fall shut once sat down. Shoko supposed that she would mingle well amongst them, same beaten expression but instead of fighting curses, her opponent was none other than her own doubts regarding you. You with your grin while talking about some stories of your about the ghost of the day or some stories about everyday clients. You with your curiosity about her own school life, nodding and listening attentively, not doubting a word falling from her mouth. Not prying for more, accepting eagerly what she’d say with crinkled eyes and gentle smiles. You, you, you…

Long conversations with the sole shared purpose to grow closer, to get to know each other better. To close a distance that rapidly shrunk as the ticks of the clock went by, hidden by the many hanging leaves of the café.

Talking through sms became a routine by now, your friendship gradually growing to the extent that matching charms dangled from your phones, that Shoko held the title of ‘best friend’ (you decided it on a random Tuesday afternoon, after another sip of the drink you made yourself at the empty counter). Indeed, every day was a continuously doubting of your honesty, your mental health too, while you deemed her worthy of your blind trust.

The more you’d grow closer, the more Shoko’s head screamed louder.

●

Until the thread snapped.

The pleasant and bumbling routine coming to an halt unexpectedly on a humid, sunny day of August. The day both Geto and Gojo came back from a deemed easy mission forever changed.

It’ll always get worse — those the words Shoko had told you months ago, on that night she found you sitting on a lonely grey sidewalk. Those the words coming back in her mind like a tidal wave washing on the rocky shore, as she stared at her two friends.

One kept climbing high, higher in his career and the ability he quickly developed, outgrowing his old skin and adapting to the changes of his newly-found powers. His change more pronounced by his cold behavior to the current events. Geto, on the other hand, sank lower into the ground: he begun skipping Yaga’s lessons, accepting the fewer missions he was assigned to without a word, treating them like not much than a daily commission of sorts. Crumbling in the naked four walls of his room.

Shoko stayed on the middle, empty.

Devoid of any will to shatter the new state. Or so she believed staring at the turned grey corpse of Amanai Riko, other sorcerers staining the morgue with their loud chatting about the unexpected turn, deciding the next steps for a standard treatment of a corpse. The same used to dispose of a sorcerer’s body.

Shoko and the boys had a favorite spot on campus, one that they childishly claimed as theirs only, right behind the school’s gymnasium. A perfect place for their smoking sessions far away from Yaga. Shoko and Suguru were the ones often finding their way to that place, exchanging few words about the lesson of that day, commenting the antics of some weird man he had to help in his missions or joking about that patient that proudly wore a tattooed the face of his beloved actor on his bottom. Gojo liked to stay with them in those moments. Not smoking, not always at least, affirming every time how much he detested the sensation but it didn’t escaped the way lately a cigarette could be seen idly sitting between his fingers more often than not.

That day Gojo wasn’t there, another mission entrusted by the higher-ups themselves. So Shoko sat in that corner of the campus, fully convinced she would stay there alone until her cigarette burnt out. She was proved wrong as Geto appeared from the side, his hair tousled and not in the usual styled bun she had seen him with from the start of their second years. Purple-ish bags now more prominent under his eyes too, giving away the many nights of disturbed sleep he carried on his back, that along the growing weight of the missions he was required to attend; jacket and pants of the usual jujutsu uniform discarded for a more comfortable and baggy attire, leaning to the wall carelessly and fumbling with his lighter.

Only when the cigarette started to turn grey at the tip, he waved his arm in a gesture of greeting. Crinkled eyes and corners that failed to reach them. “Yo”

Shoko nodded in his direction. This new sight of his friend becoming a familiar one as of late, one that she had to made peace with. Itching awareness sticking to their skin like humid winds of summer, but never spoken about, never confronted by one of them and so falling around them as a taboo. It has always been like this, after all. Sadness, grief, sorrow… different names enclosed in a bubble that was way too embarrassing to bring up in their conversations, acknowledging its presence but never strong enough to pop it, knowing that they could only watch as one had to fight alone in this personal war. That’s what the three of them always did.

“Satoru isn’t at school today?” He said, breaking the numbing silence around them.

“No. Mission”

“Mh”

Some minutes of silence passed.

“You are leaving school more often. Are they giving you missions too?”

Shoko didn’t know what caused a small chuckle to fall from her lips (maybe a specific word? Or maybe being put face to face with her growing frequent escapades? Not that she was hiding them anyway), but that made Suguru’s face contort in a silent hunch of confusion, tiredness making its presence known in each wrinkle of his frown. God, how tired he looked. Since when he didn’t sleep?

“No, uh… I go to kill some time” was her answer, paced by a drag of her cigarette.

Another striking difference between Suguru and Satoru was that the latter would’ve easily accepted her answer, not pressing further for other informations or, better yet, changing the topic altogether simply because he didn't care at all. Suguru, instead offered a silence that seemed to talk, gently coaxing the words out of your mouth with a comforting ‘tell me when you feel like it, I’ll listen’.

So Shoko didn’t have other choices, her gaze diverting from him and turning to the orange tinted sky.

“I met a girl” there was no need to look back at him, Shoko could’ve feel his eyes stuck on her just as fine, boring holes on her back. “You remember that café we’ve been months ago, right? I went back, we became close”

She watched as the cigarette fell on the ground, dull and turned off now. “She’s weird”

Geto didn’t answer, biting his bottom lip in a thoughtful expression at the new information she trusted him with. However, she too didn’t let him answer, taking the chance and firing off a question.

“Geto, do you believe in ghosts?”

The query found its answer in a small chuckle, which Shoko was glad to be the cause of even if it had a sour undertone.

“I mean, do you believe people are able to see them?”

“Are you changing the topic or are we still talking about the girl?”

“Both, actually”

Suguru let his cigarette fall too, crushing it beneath his shoes. His now free hand messing out the already knotted strands. “But she’s not a sorceress”

Shoko threw him a glance that seemed to say ‘that’s the dilemma’.

After a beat, she simply started telling the boy about your meetings and the many afternoons spent together. Stories about the ‘ghosts’ that you helped ‘cross over’ slipping from her lips at once, with nothing than pure and genuine fondness with hints of amusement in it when each time she reminded something funny that you did.

Geto opened his mouth to answer, but no words ringed in the air. Shoko noticed the way his body stiffened, as if after pondering his words he decided to hold them back from her, but she feigned ignorance at that gesture, watching with the corner of her eyes his posture straightening back on his feet.

“Do you like her?”

For once Shoko felt taken aback, eve if totally aware his friend would’ve come up to that conclusion in a matter of time. It was one of the reasons she appreciated talking to him in first place, without retorting to long and useless explanations or specified details, for all of that didn’t align with her persona. Suguru was the mirror to her inner self, needed when her mind became too clustered and messy with many thought swirling around.

“It’s nice, being with her” she shrugged. But Geto’s assertive expression transpired, as Shoko would’ve come to learn after, the many doubts that were already haunting him.

“Just don’t trust her easily” and with that last sentence, he left.

●

Four weeks passed since that day. Four weeks filled with the same doubts that never seemed to cease, increasing and becoming louder even in your absence. Shoko’s phone signaling another incoming message from its place on the desk —your messages, shifting from confused tones coming from her own disappearance to something more worrying. Funny was how Shoko could hear your voice through the massages, very much fretting the more the clock ticked by.

Four weeks like this.

Until Shoko gained some strength to take the phone and reassure you with a short text that yes, she was fine, just a little tired from the unexpected hard time at school that required her whole attention. An half lie that she was sure it would work.

One afternoon, Shoko acted on her impulses again. She couldn’t even explain how she came to this conclusion, her mind bringing up the idea to take a moment for the three of them, a moment as the trio they were not long ago, thinking that it could’ve brought some comfort, a sense of familiarity after what had happened.

This is how they ended up at the café run by your parents, sitting at the table she used to think was hers alone, waiting for their orders to arrive. Gojo and Geto sitting close to her, but feeling more distant.

You noticed them walking in, but did not approach. Limiting yourself to a cheery nod in her direction while staying at the counter, helping your father with the many orders placed. Nevertheless, Shoko noticed how your eyes seemed to linger to the table next to the garden’s door, linger to the three of them with shades of blue, your expression now more sad than anxious. As if you could really see through them.

Shoko was smoking her cigarette, as the routine between your meetings imposed, waiting for your arrival and stories with the ghost you ha helped that day. She didn’t even have to wait long, the door opening with a soft creak that gave away your presence, stopping in front of her with your arms crossed on the chest and eyes on the ground. Not the usual grin adorning your face, not your eyes crinkle and glimmering under the warm sun rays, even your body movements were nothing than a crafted imitation of a shell.

“What happened when you disappeared?” You asked, eyes glued to the tiny leaves on the ground.

Shoko tried her best to sound normal, to keep together the fake ease she carefully crafted on the train ride, pushing a strand of her hair behind the ear. “Well, same old things” she answered you, “all the homework I procrastinated came to chase me down”. But you didn’t laugh, didn’t shrug off the half assed attempt to cover up what really happened, your expression still firm and discouraged from where you stayed.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t ignoring you” she tried again after several seconds of silence. You never were silent with her.

And that worked. You finally diverted the gaze from the ground, setting your eyes on her, but this time Shoko couldn’t see nothing than your firmness. “You’ve changed”

“Positively, I hope?” The brunette tried again with a small chuckle but your gaze did not quaver.

“No, because you’re lying”

Shoko felt stunned. Among all the absurd, bizzarre things you two had told each other, never once you doubted her words and now you were contesting the most innocent of sentences?

“There’s a girl… with black hair and a braid that looks at your friends. Who is she?”

Shoko should’ve been stunned, her heartbeat probably increasing and eyes widening. The confirmation that all of your stories had always been true, that the ghosts you helped were always there unable for her to see. You could see Amanai standing there. Instead, in the same way as you, Shoko stopped being surprised.

“A girl we failed to help”

●

The established routine between the two of you recomposed itself easily.

Shoko’s visits became more frequent, lately meeting often outside the four walls of the café, sometimes meeting up for some shopping together or some quiet visits in a natural landscape. Ordinary, peaceful activities that Shoko could only ever dreamt of with Gojo and Geto. Her favorite moments, though, were the afternoons spent in your house (which was located on the upper floor of the building) when you didn’t know what to do or were left with no ideas. Many moments of that kind were spent rotting on bed lazily with magazines you used as proofs, to keep her updated about te ongoing gossip between an idol or reading out necrologies on the newspaper, preparing yourself in case some ghosts would chase you down on the street. A constant moving from one aspect of your personality to the other.

In one of those moments, you rested on your side facing Shoko whilst talking her ear off about a classmate followed by tiny, cute ghosts of at least seven hamsters. It seemed like she didn’t understand that her parents replaced them once dead, all of them identical since the girl kept talking about the same one, describing a healthy and long life worth a record. Shoko only followed half the story, noticing later that her mind was busy with other things. Her eyes fixed on your lips, not really understanding a word you were saying but following closely the movements with enthrallment.

You noticed her sudden silence, just as you approached the end of that silly story, and in a bout of self-conciousness you sucked your lips in. That broke the spell effectively, Shoko’s eyes rising up to meet yours just to laugh it off.

It was not a single episode.

Moments like this one quickly growing in number easily as the dynamic of your relationship began shifting to something else. From an initial challenge to discover who was the liar between you two (or so Shoko fiercely believed at that time) to a more teasing one, waiting for the day one of you would address and break that barrier. Often acknowledged but left hanging in the air, neither of you ready to face it.

●

Shoko disappeared again, like those four weeks in August but yet differently from that time. She didn’t answer your texts and neither the long, ripetitive rings that you busied yourself with more times in a single day. Anxiety became worry, then angry and at the very end, sadness.

Weeks became a blur in your eyes, not keeping the count of how many days passed anymore, stuck in a vortex of different emotions playing in your chest. You started projecting your frustrations on your parents, after a while, refusing them the help they needed down in the café.

You also started to deliberately ignore the spirits chasing you on the streets, begging to be listened, making them mix in a parade of pleas growing louder each day behind your back whilst you kept your pout and head lowered on your way to your home.

Until you stopped trying to contact Shoko. It was useless.

You saw her again on a random day, while busy moving some boxes around of a big order placed by your father some days ago. She was there, silently watching as you placed another box on the shelf, and you didn’t know what to feel first. Anger? The desperate need to scream all of your frustration on her? The sleepless nights wondering what had happened for her to disappear on you again? Or maybe grabbing her and checking out yourself if she was alright, if everything was alright.

The initial surprise swelling inside your chest flickering like the flame of a candle under the pressure of all those bottled, mixed sensations you were feeling. The weight becoming overwhelming as your eyes noticed an important detail.

“Sorry, study chased me down again”

“Liar” was your quick answer. You didn’t mean it, the word falling from your lips as a reflex. But at this point you could sourly see how you almost got used to Shoko sudden disappearances.

Shoko smiled. Your eyes dimming as you traced the heavy bags under her eyes, a blue and purple undertone to them, the exhausted demeanor and her silence that louder than any words she could speak of. Her body slimmer in a way that made you feel dizzy, sick to your stomach at the repercussions she sported on her body.

“Can you see him?”

And you could only nod at that feeble question. Staring into the figure of a young boy with cheerful brown eyes, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes while you felt yours swelling with tears. Death touching Shoko for the second time in less than a month. You nodded again.

“He says he’s happy that you’re not alone”

Shoko didn’t say anything else, processing your words slower than any other time as you offered a comfortable silence. You didn’t move from your place as you watched her careful hide her face, eyes glued on the ground to not face you. Your ears perking at her mutters, not asking for any explanation of sort, not prying or eavesdropping.

But there was one thing you understood, one coherent mumble that had your heart crumbling in different pieces. One word only: “Haibara”

●

Geto Suguru left the school not much than a few weeks following Haibara’s death.

Shoko closed with a loud thump her phone, lids falling heavy and promptly, gently cradled by your perfume imprinted on the sheets of your bed, the soft humming of your voice under the spray of the shower reaching her ears nonetheless —even with the door of the bathroom separating you two.

Gojo answered with the same, monotonous ‘yes’, ‘ok’ and ‘I’ll come back shortly’ every time she tried to contact him by texts, asking how his mission was going or a simple ‘how are you holding up?’ following Suguru’s defection. He had made of his dorm room a refuge of sorts, drowning more and more in the new missions assigned to him, hiding behind the excuse that he had to study, to train, to define better his still new ability of reverse cursed technique. Shoko avoided the campus as much as she could, stepping under the traditional gates just to follow Yaga’s lessons and her duties rooted inside the morgue she was growing indifferent to. Her favorite place to relax and shut off her mind moving from that corner behind the gymnasium to the four walls of your room, where she felt free to breath properly.

With you it was different.

There was no such thing as an ‘embarrassing bubble’ that shouldn’t be acknowledged, on the contrary, you persisted for her to talk about her feeling or you began to recognize its presence from nothing. It was the conclusion she came to after an afternoon similar to this one, where you were busy studying at your desk and her sprawled on the bed absentmindedly staring at the ceiling.

The lack of attention coming from her must have been more prominent that she’d imagine because that day you had thrown yourself in a tight hug, on hand resting at the base of her neck to push Shoko resting her chin on your shoulder.

Holding her against your body as some sighs escaped your lips, an attempt to make her aware that all of those tragic events were catching up on you. But while Shoko understood that, a side of her couldn’t help but notice the notes of your perfume or how you felt good between her arms. Pieces of a puzzle that matched perfectly.

You knew of Geto, or at the very least you knew that a dear friend of her left the school in bad terms. Your attention and gentleness reserved for a situation so ‘simple’ having left her even more stunned (and whipped).

On her hand, Shoko knew that she felt angry, confused and sad on the surface. But deep down she was also aware of how this insane situation would end up changing her relentlessly. Nevertheless, there wouldn’t be any Suguru helping her figuring out the many emotions swirling in a tumultuous current inside her brain.

She had lost another friend.

The unexpected spring in your steps coming from the bathroom made her thoughts scatter around and fade in thin air, the wetness lingering on your skin meeting the wood of the floor in a excited rhythm that it proved to be effective for her. And then, with a boisterous gesture, you opened the door of the bathroom, damp hair sticking to the soft texture of your shirt but you seemed clueless to the wet patch growing on your back.

“Look! I did it!”

Shoko furrowed her brows, now sitting on the bed confused by the big grin lighting your face. “What?"

“Look at my hip!” And only after your finger pointed the skin she noticed it. A temporary tattoo, one that would fade away after some washes and fierce rubs of soap, glittering under the light probably coming from one of the many magazines you read. It was the drawing of a butterfly, pink lines dotted with sparkles and shimmer. It was cute.

Shoko stared at it in a sort of trance, partially thinking back to the unanswered texts she had sent to Gojo since that morning. On the other side her eyes seemed glued to that bare bit of skin you were proudly showing, a new one she haven’t had the occasion to see up until that very moment, tracing it and caressing it avidly with her her eyes.

The charm breaking as you huffed and pouted for the lack of answer. Shoko turned to you, following with her gaze as you sat closely on the bed. Right next to her.

“Won’t your school punish you for that?"

You huffed again, this time rolling your eyes. “I’ll cover it with the skirt, of course! You’re talking as if you’re not the one smoking between lessons anyway”

Shoko could only chuckle at your remark, having being caught red-handed by your words. You didn’t bother, lying on the bed carelessly and staring at the tattoo adorning your hip.

“It’s cute… it suits you” she let out with a smile, lowering her head to take a better look at the glittered lines. The butterfly sitting nicely against the hipbone, a nice shimmer to it that made your skin color stand out gracefully. Those words seemed to fuel your grin, and for that Shoko was glad.

“If they would expel me for this little thing, I would be happy actually. I’m tired of that boring school”

“You wouldn’t want that to happen” the corners of her lips soured a bit at the timing of your joke. Lowering herself just to be at your level and being able to look you in the eyes.

A beat.

Then a playful “would you still be my friend even if I was a girl without education?”

“I can accept the ghosts, but not this”

Shoko kept going back to the still exposed hip, the butterfly catching her eyes more than she’d like to admit it.

“I can accept the ghosts, but not this”

Shoko kept going back to the still exposed hip, the butterfly catching her eyes more than she’d like to admit it.

“Hello, hello?” You tried to call her back, noticing her unusual lack of concentration. One of your finger circling in the air in front of her eyes, as if poking an invisible barrier, “can I burst the bubble of your thoughts?”

It was a random choice of words, one that you evidently didn’t put a lot of effort into. Yet, Shoko felt a chill running down her back at the odd choice, too close to hers, a metaphor that she didn’t let it out from her lips in front of you, rather keeping it seal in her mind each time she had to describe her clumsy way to handle her emotions.

And once again, she found herself acting on her impulses. Forgetting about how nice the painted lines seemed to kiss your skin, her eyes meeting yours as if stuck in a haze that numbed her senses. Her hands growing closer to your cheeks and cupping ever so tenderly to lead you close, closer to her. The first brush of lips sending a shiver down the curve of your back, clumsy, not entirely touching at first. Still dancing around a line she was set to cross in one way.

Then, you felt her lips on yours. The kiss itself slow, a tentatively one to test your reaction, to see if you were fine with it. It lasted a few seconds, but you didn’t give her a chance to grow the distance between your lips, immediately chasing after them and sealing them in another one. And another one, another one just as Shoko hoped.

Was there something that couldn’t be left unseen by you, at this point?