#ct author

[genieinanovel]

Review: On Air With Zoe Washington

Two years ago, Zoe Washington helped clear Marcus’ name for a crime he didn’t commit. Now her birth father has finally been released from prison and to an outpouring of community support, so everything should be perfect.When Marcus reveals his dream of opening his own restaurant, Zoe becomes determined to help him achieve it–with her as his pastry chef of course. However, starting a new place is…

[amandamadeathing]

Do you ever have a stupid idea that you just have to get out?

[sentfromwolves]

✧—CARVE THE STARS ⌈ a wip re-intro & march challenge intro ⌋

✧ GENRE: sci-fi fantasy ◈ STATUS: redrafting from scratch ♫ PLAYLIST: here!

Two hundred years ago, humanity expanded to the stars only to find a cosmos filled with graves. But then their children began displaying the strange ability to commune with the alien ruins scattered across the planets, waking ancient, extrasolar mecha from their sleep, and turned the struggling colonies of first generation space explorers into the fledgling galactic nation of Sol Galatea. 

Now, anyone with Resonance—the ability to interface with the alien mecha known as Relics—is conscripted by the government to pilot the near-impervious alien tech, and if the psionic overload doesn’t kill them first, the burgeoning rebellions at the edge of Sol Galatea’s controlled space will. Wren Akane knows this well—he’s been on the run from conscription ever since he was old enough to walk. 

His luck runs out when he accidentally awakens an ancient Relic in the desert of his planet, only to be embedded with the memories of its last pilot and the revelation that the war that littered the cosmos with graves is far from over. But no one believes Wren when he tells them that continuing to wake the Relics will bring the hostile alien empire that destroyed them back to Sol Galatea’s doorstep. Not his estranged father, who forces him into conscription to avoid the government executing him instead, nor Wren’s ex-childhood friends, who both have Relics of their own.

Only Wren’s rival pilot, Marek Khalid, seems to listen to a word Wren has to say. But Marek isn’t interested in saving Sol Galatea. He has big plans for what to do when the aliens arrive, a rebellion to lead, and if Wren isn’t on his side, he’s in his way. With time running out, Wren must soon decide how far he’s willing to go to save the people that never tried to save him—or if Marek is right, and he should let the stars burn instead.

🌃 SETTING ―

Two hundred years ago, the star system now known as Sol Galatea was a graveyard filled with alien ruins, ancient, crumbling structures, and millenia-old secrets abandoned to the dust.

Now, Sol Galatea thrives. Humanity has moved in, and after the first generation of children born to the star system began showing signs of Resonance—the mysterious ability to commune with and control the ancient alien relics littered across the star system—technological advancement surged, turning the scattered colonies of first generation space explorers into a powerful, isolated nation among the stars.

A number of planets, thriving stellar stations, and moon colonies compose Sol Galatea's controlled space. Territories are composed of rings that spread outward from the heart and capital of Sol Galatea, Tower Meridian. The Hecate Fracture, which encompasses the fringe planets of the system and the furthest reaching colonies, are desolate and often neglected by the interior, despite being mined aggressively for resources, as well as Relic-tech. Tensions have been rising recently between the Tower and the Fracture, and rumors of rebellion are stirring.

But with the Relic pilots on the side of the Tower, the only chance of success for a rebellion would have to come with help from within the capital. Or beyond the stars that humanity now calls home.

💥 THE CAST ―

⌈ WREN AKANE ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & desert cryptid . trans he/they . twenty-two

Brazen, hungry for adventure, and allergic to commitment, Wren Akane is the son of explorers and a child of the desert. Born and raised in the Hecate Fringe on the backwater planet of Terra-9, Wren's Resonance scores are off the charts—and if they had ever been discovered by the Tower, Wren would have been under their control since the day he learned how to walk. After waking an ancient Relic in the desert with intimate links to Sol Galatea's forgotten past, Wren must contend with whether or not he's willing to save a galaxy that never tried to save him, or let the stars burn.

⌈ MAREK KHALID ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & rebellion leader . cis he/him . twenty-four

Charismatic, power-hungry, and disgusted by the system that brutalized him from childhood, Marek Khalid wants nothing more than to set Sol Galatea on fire and watch the whole galaxy burn. His Relic is ancient and powerful, and while it has granted him secrets of the past, Marek has kept them close to his chest. The arrival of a wildcard Relic pilot threatens to throw his plans into disarray, particularly when Marek discovers that their Relic might have deeper connections to his than anyone had thought possible. But Wren is devilish, addictive, and a bad fucking idea...unless Marek can convince him that burning Sol Galatea back to ash is better than letting it continue to crush them both beneath the heel of its boot.

⌈ YEONGBI SEO ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & botanist . cis he/him . twenty-five

Originally an aspiring botanist from the dusty planet of Terra-9, Yeongbi Seo was taken into custody by the Tower shortly after his sixteenth birthday when his Resonance abilities began manifesting after an accident out in the desert. Though he still works in the hydroponics labs on-base at Heartforge as a botanist, more often he is relegated to work as a Relic pilot after unearthing a behemoth mecha from the jungles of Ceridian-12. His on-again-off-again relationship with the infamous pilot, Marek Khalid, is thrown catastrophically into mayhem when his childhood ex-friend arrives at the base in chains with a Relic in tow. After all, Yeongbi might care for Marek, but he has always loved Wren more deeply than anything or anyone else in all the universe, and despite all the bad blood between them, that has not, and will never change.

⌈ KB KAVINSKY ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & engineer . trans she/her . twenty-two

An explosive, fiery Relic pilot that hits like a battering ram and pulls no punches, KB Kavinsky is one of the most well-liked Relic pilots in active rotation. Infamously known as one of the only people able to take Marek on in close combat and have a chance at winning, KB is loyal to a fault and when she's not training on the mats, she's working in the mech shops with other engineers. After an accident on Terra-9 led to both her and her childhood friend, Yeongbi Seo, being conscripted by the Tower, KB never expects to see the one person that got away that night walk back into her life. But Wren is just as addictive and dangerous as KB remembers. And despite all the anger she still has toward him, she'd still set the world on fire just to protect him from harm.

⌈ MARSDEN NAVARRO-ORTEGA ⌋ ◈ — relic pilot & hacker . cis she/her . nineteen

One of the two Navarro-Ortega siblings, and often the bigger menace between the two, Marsden is one of the youngest Relic pilots in active rotation, and not because she wants to be. Angry at the system and angrier that she's trapped at the Heartforge while her brother is missing somewhere beyond the fringe spaces of the Hecate Fracture, Marsden wants out, and will crush anyone in her way to get it. Too bad she hates Marek Khalid, one of the only other pilots that seems to want to break the system as badly as she does. But the two despise each other after a fraught childhood spent together, and while Marsden is all for dismantling the system, she's not a homicidal maniac like her brother's ex-boyfriend. Wren Akane might just be the help she's been looking for all along to put her plans into action...but a wildcard is never trustworthy, even if Marsden needs Wren's help to finish the job.

☄️AUTHOR'S NOTE / WORDS INTO POTIONS PROMO —

Hey all! Some of you might recognize CARVE THE STARS from a long time ago. It's finally getting a rebrand from how I'd initially envisioned it when I'd first started working on the draft back in 2017. Though the core cast is the same, much of the world is shifting to hold the vision I have for this heart project, and I'm excited to work on a revitalized first draft for this remake. I have no set deadline right now for D1, but I'm aiming for summer 2024! For the month of March, I'll be participating in @moon-and-seraph's Words Into Potions event! Thanks so much for creating such a fun writing event to help motivate everyone set goals and work together to complete them this March, friend! My march goal will be 25K on D1 for CTS, while also revising HIS BODY A BROKEN LAW for first round beta ideally in the April-May time frame. If you're interested in beta reading HBABL, feel free to DM me here or on discord. I'll also be making a beta call post for it soon! I'm remaking CTS's taglist from scratch, so if you're interested in being on it, let me know. Excited to fill this writeblr with the WIP that really started it all and got me into this cool community. And if you're also participating in the march challenge, or just wanna yell, feel free to come talk to me about your wips! >:33 let's GOOO!

[snaggie-t00th]

SURPRISE SHAWTYYY

secondest one shot ever. echo's been growing on me recently icl y'all.

Brake Check

gif credit :)

rating/cw: teen, irl swears/star wars swearing, vague mentions of drugs, canon violence

3.6k words, gender neutral pronouns, zero use of y/n

i might keep this one going if i think up anything else. may or may not be based on my experiences at my own gig.

reblogs are always appreciated :)

The sun shone fiercely over the city, baking the industrial landscape in amber and gold. It was the closest that the durasteel and brick would ever get to being a part of nature, and in a way, the old buildings seemed thankful. Thankful to be unmoving against the planet’s own turmoil. To stand straight, stiff, and unforgiving against the gales that whipped through the streets like wind tunnels.

You very much wish you could be a building right now.

Contrasting to your surroundings, you were very much bothered by the sun in your eyes and wind in your hair. You squinted and kept a hand over your eyes as you puttered through the streets, gauging movement and distance by the tiled stonework on the ground. Your hair whipped at the corners of your face, always just out of reach when you went to swipe them away, giving way to a mood that the sun beating down on your neck was not helping.

Just a few more paces, a lock, and an alarm. You thought to yourself, mentally calibrating for the tasks following.

You were opening your store. At least, that’s what you’d tell anyone if they bothered asking. In reality, you were opening a store you were hired to manage. You were hired as a friendly, trustworthy face that was more or less just responsible for making sure nothing got stolen. The real owner, on the other hand, rarely could bother to make an appearance. So, by all customer accounts, it’s your store. The thought of this brought warmth to your chest.

Pride, albeit in fake ownership, but pride in your work nonetheless.

You found yourself at the front of the store. Large, ornate marble slabs stacked up to the door. Marble steps that were once a hallmark of the city, that dotted every home, now lay cracked, chipped, and closer to oyster gray than marble white.

You trudged to the front glass door. Opening it with a whine, the door found purchase on your hip as you flipped the plastic door sign to “Open”. You glance over at the keypad, and punch in your door code - 0501.

Immediately upon stepping into the small, darkened room, you’re greeted with shrill chirps. The piercing tones shot through the still air and bounced off the walls.

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’m coming.” You gripe, talking to the ancient security system that by no means would actually respond. You walk towards the corner of the small shop, eyeing a white panel with a dimly lit green screen. You grimace as you punch in your security code, trying not to become overstimulated by the alarm.

“Disarmed. Ready to arm.” A feminine robotic voice declares, and you hum in content as you turn around and begin to open up your store.

Flip those lights, plug that in, unlock the window guard, count the cash.

The mental list flashed through your mind, though it was almost immediately pushed out by a myriad of other thoughts. Your mind was abuzz, just like any other day. You glanced around at the small, cramped storefront. Your eyes raked the shelves, not looking for anything in particular, simply cataloging with your eyes. Your store sold mainly spaceship parts, among other things; though judging by the dust collecting on the deflector shield projectors, you’d almost be led to believe that no one on the planet had even scraped the sky.

You rounded a counter to make way to the register. The counter was an upside down L-shape, clear glass panes encasing a durasteel frame with sliding doors on the seller side. A smaller, similar-yet-straight case sat parallel on the right, making a perfect little square entrance for you to swing around. Such large display pieces seemed comically out of place in the small store front, as they essentially divided the room in half. Inside, the three rows that spanned the length of each side of the L were cluttered. Cluttered with trinkets that toppled over one another, as well as a handful of dubiously legal recreational products and their respective accessories. Those, along with the cigarettes in cartons behind you, were probably the only reason the lights above you were even on, albeit flickering occasionally and making a rather unfortunate buzz. You shook your head, and unlocked the small, dingy cash register in front of you.

Methodically counting cash, your eyes wandered to the bay window at the front of the store. Outside of it laid sun-bleached stone streets, with few inhabitants venturing out this early in the morning. Those that did, moved sluggishly from the heat or in a feeble attempt to resist it. Most of them looked familiar, usually having come in and bought something in the past. Or the odd few who follow a stricter morning routine than you do, seeing them stroll by every morning since you’d arrived however many cycles ago.

Same old, same old, huh? You thought to yourself. Monotony creeps up on the best of us, I suppose. You silently laugh to yourself, a quick huff of air leaving your nose.

As if the universe was listening in on your internal monologue, a speeder comes careening down the block, the engine body screaming as the bike chewed through the brake disks like meringue. Atop this banshee was a young girl, cream blonde hair whipping behind her as she screamed with delight. You had hoped it was delight at least, though you’d never heard someone giggling with fear. Immediately following her was another speeder, albeit in much less disarray and in much more control. The pilot was a tall, slender, pale man with some form of plating on his head, covering his ears.

“Omega, you HAVE to brake before you turn, you can’t just hit every corner like Tech does!” The man called out, though it was muffled from the glass.

You placed the cash back in the register and paced towards the door. Curiosity was your main driving factor, although if something happened to a child and you didn’t do anything… Well, you were sure your brain wouldn’t let you live it down.

You cracked the large door and peered out through the smaller glass door in front of it. You breathed out in relief, not realizing you were holding it in, as you saw the girl almost entirely unharmed.

“Echo, I’m fine! Plus, you said it yourself before we grabbed them that they looked like ‘hunks of junk’.” The girl made air quotes at her companion to emphasize her point. He, presumably named Echo, sighs in response, barely audible through the door but recognizable by the way his shoulders slumped. You couldn’t see it, as his back was to you, but the clone took his one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Wait, one hand?

You had seen your fair share of clones, both on your home planet and where you now found yourself. However, with his back to you, and with your eyes zeroing in on his scomp, you were none the wiser of the man outside your shop’s origins, other than his name probably being Echo.

The girl, which you assumed was named Omega, noticed you standing in your doorway.

“Maybe we can ask them for help” She spoke aloud, looking past her companion to look directly at you. You respond in part by opening the door and poking your head out.

“So, you crash in front of stores often?” You call out to the girl, smiling softly. Her companion turns around at the sound of your voice.

Hello there.

The man, now recognizable to you as a clone, was much more muscular than you had anticipated. With broad shoulders causing his pauldrons to peek out just a hair more. His hair was a buzz cut, the deep blue-black hue of his just-barely-there hair contrasting against his pale skin.

He waved his hand at you.

“I’m trying to not let her make it a habit but someone was recently taught what drifting was. Do you happen to sell speeder parts?” He punctuated his statement with a playful jab to the girl’s ribs, which elicited a giggle.

“As long as you don’t mind wiping dust off of them, I’m sure I can find something for y’all.” You replied, and you stepped out on the porch to open the door and let the two in. They quickly followed suit and headed towards you.

“I’m Omega by the way, and this is my big brother Echo.” The girl chirped as she walked by.

You smiled and gave your name in response. “Pleasure, it’s been a while since I’ve had real customers”.

“What’s a real customer?” She said, spinning around to look back at you once she filed into the small room.

“Someone actually buying parts, instead of what’s in the case.” You reply, as you turn your back and begin parsing the shelves for speeder brake parts. Immediately you regret this decision.

“What’s in the case?” Omega piped, and before you can turn around her face is pressed to the glass, memorizing its contents.

“Oh!—Uh, adult stuff, Omega. You really shouldn’t worry about it.” You said sheepishly, and you began to walk over to try and find something else for her to look at, but before you could Echo interjects.

“They’re right Omega, you have no business with this kind of stuff. Let’s just focus on the parts we need so we can get back to the ship before too long” He says, before clasping her on the back. She huffs, but obliges and stands up.

“So I have the parts you’re looking for, however the brakes come as a complete set. So you may end up with extras if you didn’t break the entire thing.” You explain, and waggle a box in the air.

“Judging by the sound when we came in, I’d imagine we’ll probably use the whole kit. I hope we don’t scare off too much foot traffic with the repairs.” Echo quipped, accompanied by a soft smile. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought the man was flirting with you.

“Foot traffic?” You fake gawk. “Ain’t from ‘round here huh?”

Echo chuckles, and his eyes shone a little bit lighter. The bright honey-brown was rather stark against his skin, making it even more difficult not to get lost in them. The normally-dull blue hue of the overhead plasma lights made them pop out a bit more now that you were inside.

“Well, in any case, we’ll be out front for a bit. Appreciate the help.” Echo nodded and began to take his leave with Omega in tow.

“Last I checked the sign out front didn’t say charity.” You spoke, holding back a laugh with your teeth on your bottom lip.

Echo stopped dead in his tracks, and paused for a moment to reflect on what you meant. He sighed when it finally dawned on him.

“My apologies. Omega, take this out front and start taking the speeder apart while I pay for this.” He handed the box to the girl, and she skipped out the door.

Echo walked up to the counter, albeit awkwardly. Like his hips were too heavy. That’s when you noticed his legs. Or rather lack thereof.

“The heat and humidity makes my joints lock up sometimes.” He stated, noting your staring. Your eyes went wide.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I had only noticed your scomp earlier when we were outside.” You said quickly, trying to alleviate any awkwardness. You had just met the man, you weren’t trying to immediately make a handsome stranger hate you.

“It’s nothing new for me, though I did appreciate the lack of disgust in your face” He joked, self-deprecatingly.

Your eyebrows shot up, a mixture of quizzical and confused. “Everyone in the galaxy has or knows someone with augmentation at this point. What makes yours so gross?” You replied, emphasizing ‘gross’ with a sarcastic voice.

The man shrugged. “Most clones don’t look like me.”

You nodded. “Not exactly a GAR approved clone preset, I gather?”

“Sort of, I guess? I got placed with an experimental clone unit during the war, seeing as how I didn't fit in with the regs anymore.” He responded, now talking with his hands and relaxing his posture. You typed in the total for the engine kit into the register.

“Regs?” You ask, not looking up, but still very much invested in the conversation.

“Regular clones. The ‘approved presets’ as you called them. My unit is nothing of the sort, so I saddled up with them.” He replied with ease, while fishing into one of his waist bags for his credit pouch.

“I see. Well, your total’s gonna be 635 credits.” You chirp, looking up at Echo’s face, only to watch it drop.

“Six thirty five?” He half whispered, somehow going a shade paler. He had about 350 credits left in his pouch after the sorely needed supply run. However, if he couldn't fix the speeder, it wouldn’t matter.

Sensing his trepidation, and also using the moment to steal a few glances at how his biceps push against his armor with his arms crossed, you got an idea.

“Tell you what. Give me what you got, and I’ll smooth over the rest if you take me to dinner” You said in a joking tone, testing the waters.

Echo’s ears tinged pink and his cheeks warmed up at the thought. He pretended not to notice the way you sized him up when you met a few moments ago, but something about your attention on him at that moment made his stomach trip over itself. That feeling piqued his curiosity, but his response was laced with trepidation.

“I honestly don’t even know where we’d go. I’ve never been planetside here, and I’m sure you don’t want to eat the ration bars let alone smell what’s on the ship”

You shrugged. “Beats the stale air here. Plus for as many parts as I carry, I’ve never actually been on a ship.” You felt rather sheepish at your white lie, your eyes scanning the floor.

“The Marauder it is. What time were you thinking?” Echo asked. You couldn’t see it, but his fingers were twitching against his thigh, and the back of his neck was bright red. He hadn’t been on a date since he was still with the 501st, and even then it was usually a random one-off with someone he met at 79’s. By then the alcohol would be long gone and he would realize he’d spent the previous night with someone with bantha-shit for brains.

“Honestly? I could help you with repairs and we could head out. Not like I’d be missing out on any money.” You reply coolly, trying your best to have a ‘we can do whatever’ attitude as you leaned your weight onto one hip and cocked your head.

Inside, you were having ironically the same conundrum as Echo. You hadn’t been on a date in Force knows how long, your work clothes weren’t exactly date material, and holy kriff how did that actually work? You said it on a whim, ready to laugh it off to him and sob into your pillow about it later. Your brain had finally caught up to what you were up to, who you were now going on a date with, what you were doing, how you got there, and how his kid little sister wrecking outside your store was the best thing that could’ve happened.

“Are you gonna help me put this bike back together or are you two gonna flirt all day?!” A shrill voice called from outside.

Right, Omega, kriff.

Both you and Echo flinch and sigh at the sound of her voice. The temperature in the room also seemed to rise a few degrees, even if only for the two of you. You sigh, grabbing the credits Echo left on the counter and lock up the register. You make your way around the counter, and join him as he makes his way towards the door.

Once again faced with his back, your eyes wander down to where his hips meet his metal lower half. Somehow, his blacks tuck neatly into them, or maybe they’re clipped somewhere, you don’t know. You stifle a small laugh at the thought.

As you make your way outside, the thought crosses your mind of Echo’s legs having built in shirt fasteners. Then, before you can stop yourself, you let out a giggle at the thought of Echo having garters for his blacks underneath the armor and over his robotic legs.

Echo turns around at the sound. His eyebrow is raised quizzically, but his eyes betray him. He looks a little sad, worried that you’re laughing at him or Omega or their situation.

Noticing his composure change, you are now forced to have your queries answered.

“How do your blacks stay on if you don’t have them on your lower half? I thought it was like a jumpsuit?”

Echo was bewildered at the question. He cocked his head, and then settled on a response.

“They just .. fit? Like the shirt sits where it’s, supposed to? And it doesn’t move.” He shrugged, never having put much thought into it. “What about that made you laugh?”

“I imagined you having little garters or fasteners on the legs underneath.” You quietly replied, looking at the ground, mildly embarrassed.

Now it was Echo’s turn to laugh. His nose crinkled and he squeezed his eyes shut, and you made a mental note of the sound that came out of the sweet man’s mouth.

“Very funny. Echo can you please put this brake back on?” Omega piped up, exasperated. She loved her brother dearly and was very amused to see him interacting with you in such a manner, however she didn’t anticipate this would require her soloing her speeder rebuild.

“Sorry kiddo, I got you.” Echo crouched down and rested his hands on his knees, surveying what work Omega had done in his leave. She had actually finished about ¾ of the work, and Echo made a mental note to thank Tech profusely for his tutelage when they got back to the ship.

While he made quick work of what was left of the speeder, Omega busied herself with getting to know you. She plopped herself on your front stoop, and materialized some Mantell Mix from inside her jacket pocket. She threw a handful in her mouth, but before proceeding to chew she primed you with one of soon to be dozens of questions.

“Why’d you set up shop here?”

You frowned slightly, as there was no fun answer to this question. The Siege drove everyone off of Mandalore, if they survived. This planet just happened to be in the same section of The Rim and was taking refugees. Setting up a shop was never in the cards on your home world, but despite your utter lack of knowledge of retail, you relished the opportunity to do something different. Start completely anew. Though a part of you balked at sharing your past, this young girl seemed wiser than she let on and you enjoyed actually talking to someone outside of the usual “How are you” “Good, thanks” “Your total’s 45 credits” “Have a good day”. So, against your better judgment, you indulged her.

“Well, Mandalore doesn’t really exist, at least in its full capacity,” You sucked in your teeth. “And I didn’t trust that old Coruscanti freighter to leave the star system. Plus, the owner of the place doesn't like people too much and would rather just collect a paycheck.” You shrugged.

Upon mention of Mandalore, a thunk came from the speeder. Not loud enough to draw your attention over, thank Force, but enough to be heard. It was Echo dropping a tool. While Kamino wasn’t as much of a home to him as he imagined you would regard Mandalore, it was a similar weighty feeling. If all else failed, there was nowhere for either of you to go. There was no home. Sure, The Marauder and your little studio apartment were where the two of you resided, but that’s not where you’re from. Plus, it’s kind of difficult to compare a ship and a box room barely bigger than the storefront to an entire planet.

“This isn’t your store?” Omega replied, sensing it easier to focus on the latter half of your statement. You shook your head.

“For all intents and purposes, it’s mine. I run the day to day, order the products, harass people to actually get it delivered, everyone knows it’s me who runs it. But I don’t own it, no.”

Omega nodded in understanding, and was immediately buried in thought. Her dark brows knitted together as her brain formulated questions faster than she could ask. She nodded once more, seeming to have landed on a fitting one. But before she could ask, Echo piped up.

“The brakes are fixed up. We should be able to head back to the ship” Echo began to get up, but before he turned around he shot a question that you were dreading. Well, more of a statement.

“I thought you said you’ve never been on a ship?”

You gawked at him and then trained your eyes to the ground, suddenly very interested in the species of weeds that had taken hold in the cracks of the ground. You didn’t have any good excuses, and you’d already been caught in one lie.

“Got you to say ‘yes’ to the date, didn’t it?” You muttered weakly, knowing that this could very well end in him cursing you out and leaving you to your lonely little shop.

Echo sighed. He didn’t like lying, but the reason for it warmed his cheeks. He realized you just wanted an ‘in’. To hang out with him, of all people. He wasn’t used to someone, anyone, making that kind of effort to spend time with him.

“It did, though I’d have probably said yes otherwise.” It was his turn to reply coolly and pretend that his heart’s not in his throat for even uttering the words. He coughs in a feeble attempt to clear it. “Either way, are you two ready?”

You nodded and looked at Omega, who responded by excitedly getting up and hopping on her speeder. Echo walked a few feet, and grabbed his own by the handlebars. Before you could ask who you were riding with, he re-parked the bike in front of where you were standing so you could easily step off of the curb and onto the back.

“When’d you get smooth?” You chide, grabbing Echo’s shoulder for leverage as you kicked your leg over the side. Your feet found purchase above the altitude controls, gripping the cargo compartment with your legs to maintain balance. You brought your hands down and let them rest in your lap as Echo kicked over the ignition.

“Since I found a reason to be smooth.”

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! - 6th Part (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Hello, that was mean of me wasn't it, leaving you hanging off the cliff. Well here you go the next part. This story is so long, I am so sorry if you aren't a long story fan but I cannot stop myself. I love my OC she is me I am her, she is all of us. @brassknucklespeirs has been giving me some tasty little story lines so you know it's gonna be good. I'm so excited like the last chapter it's intense. I should make a playlist for Emily but I'm busy. I might do it later if people want it. As per usual this is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the real men in WW2.

Trigger warning: Talks of rape, violence, use of derogatory language.

I gasp for air, my eyes opening, I look up at the same scene I saw when Malarkey was carrying me through the forest, the green against the white.

“She’s breathing!” I look around worried faces come into my vision. “Em, Oh God!” someone says from behind me. Sighs of relief fill the air. 

“Emmy! Jesus, way to scare us all to death.” Lieb says to my left. I go to sit up. 

“Woah, steady there Darlin’.” Bull moves behind me resting my back on his front.

“Lieb?” I croak out, looking at the man confused at what everyone is so worried about. Gene sits on his haunches at my waist puffing. 

“Your heart stopped!” Gene pants. I take a deep breath finding that my chest aches, probably from the compressions he would’ve had to do. I look out of the foxhole to see Malarkey and Nixon both looking like they are about to pass out. Winters stands beside them watching me closely. 

“Sorry to scare you all.” I look at each of them. Lieb moves forward pulling me into his embrace, I hug him back. “Don’t do that again.” He says sternly in my ear. “Yes, Sir.” I whisper, earning a chuckle. 

“Let’s get you out of this hole.” Bull says, he easily pulls me to my feet. “How do you feel? Can you walk?” He asks. I nod moving slowly, it feels so good to move again. I am helped by the men to climb out of the foxhole. 

“Ok men back to the front, spread the good news.” The men grumble but head back to the front. Nixon stands close, putting his hand on the small of my back to ensure I am steady on my feet. 

“Let’s get you something to eat and drink. You’ll need a new top too. The buttons have been ripped off of the one you are wearing.” Winters says, I look down, finding my long sleeve shirt hanging open. I wrap the top around me. 

The next day we sit in the tent. I slowly sip tea that Winters made for me. A blanket hangs from my shoulders. Nixon sits across from me watching my every move like I will vanish if he takes his eye off me.

“Who did it Em?” Nixon questions leaning forward. I think back to the incident, the faces are blurred, the men themselves seem like they have been censored from my mind. I shake my head trying to get the picture to clear. 

“Nixon! Don’t ask her that! She will tell us when she’s ready.” Winters reprimands the intelligence officer. 

“I don’t remember. It’s all a blur. I remember finding something that scared me and then, I can’t, it’s blank.” I say disheartened. Nixon’s brows crease as he takes my hand resting on the table between us giving me a loving squeeze. 

“I’m sorry Em, I just. Ugh. I just want those men to be dealt with.” He’s angry, his jaw hard set as he looks behind me. Gunshots fire in the distance pulling my focus. 

“When can I go back?” I ask looking towards Winters. Both Winters and Nixon look at me like I have grown another head.

“Emily you just got better, you’re technically still recovering.” Winters makes his way over to me, laying his hand on my shoulder. 

“I can’t sit here and do nothing, I feel like I will go insane trying to replay whatever happened to me.” I plead my case to Winters. 

“But it was a big trauma Em.” His face softens, still trying to get me to rest. 

“I feel better, I swear I will take it easy. I will just help Gene.” I beg, giving my best puppy dog eyes to convince him. 

“Oh fine, fine!” He concedes throwing up his hands in surrender. 

“YES!” I stand shaking off the blanket, grabbing my gear. I scoot past Winters on my way past giving him a quick peek on the cheek. He chuckles and shakes his head as I make my way over to the front. 

I make my way to Gene, he looks weary and cold. “You good Gene?” I ask as I approach. 

“I should be asking you that aye Em?” He gives a small smile. “How well are you stocked?” He asks. 

“Not good, only a few bandages, no plasma and like one morphine. How about you?” I look through the stock in my bag. 

“About the same.” He says. “I was thinking we are going to have to scavenge a bit to get supplies, we are going to need it.” He is tired, he looks like he needs a good sleep.

“I will do whatever you need Gene, just tell me what you want me to do.” I say giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

I follow him as we try to find the other medic Doc Ryan so that we can trade items and stock take our supplies. 

“Spina.” Gene calls to the medic digging a hole in the frozen ground. 

“Doc.” Spina acknowledges the man. 

“What’s happening?” Gene asks. 

“We’re digging in, right along the line.” Spina says while shovelling. 

“So what did you get?” Spina asks Gene, throwing the shovel over his shoulder. 

“I got uh. I got this and I got myself a Kraut bandage.” Gene hands him things, as they both take a seat in the half dug foxhole. I make my way over sitting on the edge of the hole. 

“What? This is it?” Spina says when Gene doesn’t hand him anything else. 

“Yeah, that’s it.” Gene sounds defeated, god I didn’t know we were so low on everything. 

“What about you?” Spina turns his attention to me. 

“Same for me.” I say rummaging through my medic bag. I watch Gene pull his last Morphine syrette, I only have one on my person as well. 

“You know, First Battalion has pulled out of Foy. Heavy casualties.” Gene says to Spina. 

“They left?” I ask, having missed the update. 

“So, if they’re pulling back then what the hell are we doing sitting here?” Spina asks, Gene is focused on the morphine in his hand. 

“We need more morphine. This is all I got.” He put the morphine back into its box tucking it away in his bag.     

“You got extra scissors?” Gene asks the both of us. I shake my head. 

“Uh-uh just the one.” Spina says drinking from his canteen. 

“First Sergeant Lipton.” I hear being called out through the woods. A man appears at the foxhole. “What’s this? Three medics in one hole?” He asks, dramatically putting his hand on his hip, I choke back a laugh. Who is this guy?

“Yes Sir!” Spina replies. 

“And what’s going to happen to us if you take a hit? Huh?” The man stands with his hand tucked onto his hip trying to be assertive, but Spina seems to take the man for a joke.

Lip marches up behind the man, “Sir?” he asks. 

“First Sergeant, where is my foxhole?” The man demands. My mouth falls open at the rude way he speaks to Lip. 

Lip looks incredulously at the man, “this way Sir.” He motions his hand back in the direction the man appeared from. None of the other medics seem to be paying attention to this interaction, I watch intently. 

“Maybe you missed it, huh?” Lip says to the man. “I’ll walk you back Sir. You’re a bit close to the line here.” Lip seems to be annoyed at the man.     

“Goddammit.” The man mutters, marching away. 

“Who is that man?” I ask the boys sitting in front of me. 

“That’s First Lieutenant Dike, the men are calling him foxhole Norman though.” Spina says in a hushed voice. 

“Why?” I question. 

“He goes missing whenever there is action, says he is going for a walk but who knows where he goes.” Spina says. I let my mouth fall open. 

“And he’s the First Lieutenant?” I ask surprised, Spina nods. I raise my eyebrows making a judgemental face. 

“Alright here's the plan Em,” Gene says to me as we leave Spina, “you go down to Dog company, see what you can scrounge from the men and I will go to Fox.” Gene instructs pointing behind me. “Keep low Em, meet me back at Easy when you are done.” He turns and walks away from me. I follow his instructions, keeping back from the line as I make my way over to where Dog company is stationed, not far over from Easy. 

I make my way over to one of the foxholes back from the line, dropping inside next to another man.

“First Sergeant?” I ask the man huddling in the foxhole. 

“Yeah, who’s asking?” The Sergeant replied. 

“Lane, I’m one of the medics from Easy Sir.” I introduce myself to the man. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” He seemed surprised. 

“Excuse me?” I ask, shocked by his comment. 

“Ah, nothing. What do you want, Lane?” The man dismisses his previous question. 

“I came to see if you have any extra medical supplies?” I tell the man. 

“You might have to go ask the men for their own supplies, we are running low as well.” He sighs, focusing his eyes back onto the line. I go to climb out of the hole when his hand grabs my forearm. “We actually have a couple casualties, can you tend to them, I have no idea where our medic is.” His stare pins me to the ground, not giving any room to protest. I give a sharp nod. “That one over there has someone in it.” He points to a foxhole a couple of metres away. 

I leave the hole, keeping low, I drop into the foxhole that the Sergeant pointed out to me. A man lies in the bottom, I almost land on him as I enter. The other man keeps eyes on the line. I see blood soaking into the green of his jacket on his shoulder. 

“Hey!” I say tapping the man, he flinches at my touch. He turns over to look at me, “What happened?” I ask the man, who vacantly stares past me. I shake him again trying to get his attention but his stare remains distant. 

“Hey, what’s this guy's name? Do you know what happened?” I ask the other soldier crouched next to me. He slowly swivels to face me, as our eyes lock, terror washes over my features. I feel my heart stop as a cold sweat pricks at my skin. I go to stand trying to escape him but I don’t move fast enough. The man who pinned me down in the woods grabs my mouth preventing me from making any noise, slamming my head back into the side of the foxhole. My helmet only takes so much of the brunt, black spots dance over my vision.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” The man says in disbelief, coming into my face to whisper so that no one can hear what is going on. I struggle beneath his hold. “I should’ve killed you when I got the chance.” My body stills at the words, “but I don’t have a thing for fucking dead bodies.” A fire ignites in my chest, my blood coursing through my body filled with hate. I open my mouth biting down hard at the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, I bite hard enough to draw blood. The man yelps in pain, snatching his hand back but he moves quickly striking his palm to my cheek. I tuck my knees to my chest using the wall behind me to send him flying back crashing into the other wall. I clamber out of the foxhole, but still he is quick. Grabbing my ankles he yanks me back into the hole, not before a scream rips from my throat echoing through the trees. I am soon back on the floor of the foxhole and the man clamps a hand around my mouth and his other around my throat. 

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he hisses in my face repeatedly, thumping my body into the ground as his hand squeezes my neck, cutting off my blood and oxygen supply. My head spins from the loss of air. I claw at his face with my nails drawing blood from his cheeks. 

“What the fuck is going on?” I hear from above us, the man quickly releases me from his grasp. I crawl away from him sucking in gulps of air into my burning lungs. I haul myself out of the hole lying in the snow. Other men have gathered around to see what the commotion was. I hear the sound of feet crunching in the snow, the men from Easy arrive, I watch their eyes survey the scene, Lieb and Malarkey leading with Bull, Toye and Bill not far behind. Malarkey’s eyes find me first widening at the sight of me sprawled out on the snow.

“Should I repeat myself, Private?” The man who found us first speaks, I recognise him. Speirs, the man who everyone is afraid of due to the rumours; there is one about him giving out smokes to a bunch of POWs before shooting them all. 

The soldier has climbed out of the hole sitting on his knees in front of Speirs. I roll over, slowly getting to my feet, swaying, I shake my head steadying myself. 

“She attacked me first.” He accuses. I snort, spitting the blood from my mouth onto the snow. “She bit me!” he holds out his hand for Speirs to see.

“And tell me how, Private, that your hand got so close to her mouth that she bit it.” Speirs tilts his head as he stares down the man with his deadly glare. There is movement from behind Speirs. I flick my gaze over watching Bull hold back a raging Lieb, the other men watch with looks that could kill. 

“Yeah, tell them Private.” I taunt the man, “tell them how you couldn’t get it up.” I wipe the blood running down my cheek, giving the man a sadistic grin. 

“Tell them how you brought two other men to hold me down while you tried to rape me. What? Were you worried that you weren’t strong enough to do it by yourself?” My brows quirks as I ask the question, arms folded in front of me. I walk up to the man getting close to his face. “Should I tell everyone that you’re a coward with a tiny cock?” The man seethes, he growls in anger flinging himself forward taking me down to the ground. I laugh in his face. “God you’re so easy to wind up.” He is quickly dragged up from on top of me. I am helped to my feet by Malarkey, the rest of the men looking like they are chomping at the bit to fight. 

“Take that man to the Captain, tell them what he did. Find the other men who attacked Lane the other day and bring them in too.” Speirs commands two soldiers to drag the man away.

“Go back to your spots men, the show is over.” Speirs announces, as the men watching slowly dissipate back into the burrows. The Easy company men are by my side in seconds. Malarkey stands close, he cups my face, his eyes frantically scanning my head looking for any injuries. 

“I’m fine Malark.” I try to say but he has squished my face so it makes it harder to talk. 

“Fucking Dog company.” Lieb seethes next to me. Bull watches me concerned. Toye and Bill are on guard, glaring down any man that walks too close to the group.      

“Easy company come with me.” Commands Speirs. He marches back towards where we are camped. We follow him back, Malarkey and Lieb glued to me. Lieb looks ready for a fight. I watch his hands clench and unclench. His jaw tight, his eyes dart around. Malarkey is the same, I have never seen him angry before, I have always known him as kind and sweet but this man escorting me back to the camp is vengeful, his face is hard and stoic but his eyes are a blazing fire. 

“At least we found him.” I try to make light of the situation but the men don’t reply seemingly in their own world, I’m sure they are planning various ways to make the soldier pay for his crimes. The men in front of us are no different, their silence is deafening. We arrive, Winters and Nixon look pissed. They dismiss the other men only leaving me with the Captains and Speirs. 

We sit in the tent around the table, I look at the floor fiddling with the button on my jacket. I feel like I have been brought into the principal's office to be scolded.

“What happened?” Winters asks Speirs who sits next to me. 

“Well Sir I’m sure we all heard the scream that alerted us to the situation in the first place.” Starts Speirs leaning his arms on the table. 

“It took me a while to find where the noise actually came from, since she was, I am assuming, dragged back into the foxhole by the soldier.” He looks to me for confirmation, to which I nod. 

“When I finally found where the sound came from I looked into the hole to find the man strangling Lane here, he was also covering her mouth and whispering to her, but I didn’t hear what was said.” Speirs says. I feel their eyes land on me. 

“He was telling me to shut up.” I say looking up to meet Winters eyes, regretting my decision, the look on his face breaking my heart. I avert my gaze back to the ground. 

“Did he say anything else?” Nixon asks.  

“He said that he should’ve killed me when he had the chance, but that he…” I pause, clearing my throat. I take a breath, I don’t want to have to tell Nixon and Winters what the asshole said to me. It was bad enough to hear from him but I keep going. “He said that he didn’t have a thing for fucking dead bodies.” I bite my lip looking up at the men, disgust evident on their faces. 

“Thank you Lane, we will have this sorted.” Winters says dismissing me. He can’t even look at me, none of them can. I bite my inner lip. Standing I leave the tent letting them figure out what they want to do with the man. 

------------------------------

Chapter 7

[ambermarshallwrites]

I wenched it up at the CT Renaissance Faire this weekend. Still got it (?)

I made that choker years ago. Velvet ribbon as the base, stitched beads on, it's closed with hook and eye closures. The scale mail earrings were from the last Ren Faire in ME that I went to.

Still on the lookout for a really good witch hat (a tall, wide one, those smallish felt/knit ones are everywhere and my teen goth nonconformist refuses).

The fire at night is the best part of the fair, I think.

[zukkaoru]

i support women's wrongs but i have to say i'm also a rather big fan of consistent characterization,,

[arlo-venn]

GI says next plan re: my pain spreading across my abdomen and to the spleen area is to do chest and full abdominal x-rays 🩻 I hope I can schedule them for before the gallbladder surgery.

[cacaitos]

wait a second is D/Datenshou ever so slightly inspired after. count D. like im not looking that up but well could be a coincidence. maybe guys in chinese attire with D initials abound lol.

[redactedgender]

screaming. crying. throwing up. /neg

[genieinanovel]

Review: From the Desk of Zoe Washington

Zoe Washington isn’t sure what to write. What does a girl say to the father she’s never met, hadn’t heard from until his letter arrived on her twelfth birthday, and who’s been in prison for a terrible crime?A crime he says he never committed.Could Marcus really be innocent? Zoe is determined to uncover the truth. Even if it means hiding his letters and her investigation from the rest of her…

[lascapigliata]

christians learn to celebrate christmas in places i don’t personally need to get around challenge

[chateautangerine]

@godpyre asked (for cliff's birthday): a small pile of items is left on cliff's pillow. a birthday card (clearly for a 5 year old) with armands signature inside, a pile of thick, parchment for his typewriter wrapped in a blue bow and a fountain pen with a strange red liquid inside the stem (its armands blood). have fun cliff :^) happy birthday to the rootin tootinest cowboy

Cliff had stepped into his room with no preternatural sense that anything had been different, the phone on his nightstand glowing with new voicemails, strawberry red. He played them through.

There was one from his editor. Another from a wrong number. He may have waited an indefinite length of time afterwards for a woman’s voice, tinnier with age, to crackle through. 

‘You have no new messages.’ 

He unpeels his eyes from the aether. He drifts in a cloud of dark matter and baryons and atoms, turning to stick his finger over the delete button when he finds his pillow not as he left it. 

Strange, out of place, it wasn't always like this. Typewriter paper sits wrapped in a blue bow; next to it, a fountain pen, dark cherry wood and gold-tipped. There is a card. He picks it up. 

'High 5! Happy birthday!' it reads. Something meant for a child.

Inside and flourished in red ink: Armand.

Cliff lifts his head where the dust motes drift, and his eyes glaze milky at the ceiling fan. "How did you get here?"

-

In the night, safely tucked within the too-old walls of his brownstone and forgotten by the Tangerine, Cliff sits in the soapy waters of his sloshing bathtub, his hair stuck humid to his cheek, a song playing from a record player. "Clair de lune".

He has a cigarette and candles lit. He's cleaned a bottle of sauvignon. A tray sits over his tub, his head foaming sudsy flooded.

Memories of counting down the seconds in bed, finally turning ten. Memories of stealing Tastykakes from a convenience store; no one to sing him a song. Memories of inviting Armand inside. Armand, a constant, the North Star. There when no one isn't. 

He never did. 

"I would have opened the door if you knocked," Cliff whispers up to no one, his lungs full of smoke, pupils wider by the second.

He licks the tip of his pen, drawing blood, and puts it to paper.

-

also please rate cliff's bathroom setup bc it 1005% looks like this

also x2 i was thinking this was the birthday card 100% bc of the cars movie

[envy-of-the-apple]

this has to be the greatest gojo fic of all time theres no competitionnnnn!!! everyone go read!!! yall have THIS^^^ fic right here to thank for the inspiration of Infinite Rewind as well as Yan!bonten anon:)))

beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

notes: it's finally here. the long awaited halloween fic. yes, i know it's march, but i did start working on it in september. haha. there's so much i could say, but i will leave it at that this fic is, in every sense, a fic that i would not normally write. and yet here we are.

contains: f!reader (no physical description or gendered language is used), no explicit romantic pairing (though you don't have to look hard to find the reader x gojo implications), major character death (played with), semi-graphic depictions of death, blood and violence, minor suicide ideation, canon retelling (lines of dialogue are pulled from the jjk english dub because i'm a dirty dub watcher). opening poem is from higurashi no naku koro ni (minagoroshi-hen). fic title is from giga's beyond the way.

please note that this is a time loop fic and, by nature contains repeating scenes (particularly from canon). please do not read this fic if you do not like that sort of thing.

wc: 21,883 read on ao3 (account required) || playlist

Please tell me what happened in this night. It's like the cat inside the box.

Please tell me what happened in this night. You don't know if the cat in the box is dead or alive. Please tell me what happened in this night. The cat in the box was dead.

The first time, it is instant— you don’t even know what’s happening.

The second, it is by flame, but you barely realize it, barely feel it— a second of mind numbing heat before nothing.

The third time, it is something slicing across your throat; you see the blood spilling everywhere, then the pain follows— a moment of pure agony before nothing.

The fourth time you realize what’s going on; what’s really going on.

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because the subway platform is crowded, insanely so— there are hundreds of people shoved into this space alongside you, packed like sardines in a can. You’ve never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you live in Tokyo. For the most part, you’ve learned to accept it, but even this crowd is a little much and you wish you hadn’t listened to your friends when they said you should go party in Shibuya for Halloween; you don’t even like partying.

There’s a sharp pain in your temple followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone is screaming it at you through a megaphone positioned right next to your ear.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

For the eighth time.

Before you can even question the thought, images flash in your mind’s eye, blurry at first before they come into focus. The platform gates open. Chaos ensues. People dropping onto the subway tracks— spontaneously bursting into flame— their heads, necks sliced off, stomachs cut open—

Bile rapidly builds up in your throat, and you clamp your jaw shut, trying to force it down. Not here. Not now. You try to focus on something else, anything else happening outside of your brain. There’s a pair next to you musing about the people standing on the subway tracks, wondering what the two (the four?) of them are talking about. You blink back tears as you look. You can only see two: a freakishly tall man with white hair dressed in all black, and another man, dressed in strange, yet more traditional looking garb. Are those costumes too? You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as another image forces its way into your brain.

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

You can’t hold it in any more. Every fiber in your being screams at you to get away from the subway tracks, but instead you rush toward them, shoving people left and right as your hands desperately reach the stability of the gate. You grip it like a lifeline as you retch over the side of it, the contents of your stomach spilling all over the subway tracks.

There’s a quiet murmur of disgust behind you but you can’t be bothered to respond. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to do it before—

The gates open and the crowd starts to move like a tidal wave, pushing and shoving their way through the gate. You’re swept away, vomit long forgotten as you and a few dozen others tumble onto the railway.

Alarm bells go off in your brain, loud and deafening. A voice in the back of your head screams for you to get off the track! Get off the track now before—

The platform erupts into a cacophony of screams, drenched in horror, saturated in fear. You are surrounded by people, by corpses— beheaded, sliced open, bursting into flames.

Your terror roots you to the ground as the carnage ensues around you. It’s only when another person, another corpse, dressed in a magical girl costume collides with your body that you can finally move. But it’s too late, you realize, despaired and helpless, as your bodies fall to the ground.

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because it’s so hard to breathe, frustratingly so— there are hundreds of people squeezed into this space alongside you, packed like cattle for slaughter. You've never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you’re in Shibuya. For the most part, you’ve come to accept it, but this crowd is way too much and you wish you had just stayed home and ordered a pizza; though honestly, the thought of pizza kind of makes you sick.

There’s a dull throbbing in your forehead, followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone’s hollering at you from a loudspeaker that’s been installed in your brain.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You think it's the ninth time now.

Behind you, you hear a woman screaming, her voice crazed and terrified. You turn your head automatically to look at her and when you see her you realize you recognize her yellow and white magical girl costume. You can say with certainty that you’ve never seen her before and yet—

Before you can ruminate more on it, images— memories assault your mind’s eye with a clarity that is absolutely sickening. That woman colliding into you, your bodies slamming into the subway tracks before you both— Your stomach churns violently,

and you feel like you’re going to puke, but you force it down— can't afford to right now. Instead, you make your way over to the woman.

Her head is in her hands as she mutters over and over again about how everyone is going to die. People around her figure that being stuck in here with the crowd has probably gotten to her. You, however, know better.

“...hey,” you say softly.

Her muttering comes to an abrupt halt and slowly she raises her head to look at you. There’s a flash of recognition in her eyes and she grabs you violently by the shoulders. “You! You know, don’t you? That we’re going to die?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you have indeed experienced death here eight times already, then you would have thought she’s lost her mind. Slowly, you nod and she seems relieved by it, her grip on you loosening.

You can’t help but feel a little relieved too— glad to know that you’re not the only one experiencing this nightmare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s confused though. Why is she only remembering now? But then again, it took you a few times before you realized yourself.

Around you people start to gasp, and you glance back toward the railway to see an abnormally tall man with white hair and dressed in all black jump down from the atrium onto the railway. He lands rather gracefully for someone who jumped at least one floor and starts to converse with the other three people (you think they're people— two of them are in some pretty wild costumes) on the track.

Wait. Isn’t it supposed to be just two people: the tall man and the one in the traditional clothes? Where did the other two come from?

“We have to get out of here,” the woman says. “Before they kill us.”

Her grip shifts from your shoulders to your arms and she starts to shove at everyone around you, trying to force her way through. She seems to know, just as well as you do, that any second now the gates will open and the crowd will start spilling onto the railway, littering the tracks with bodies and ash. Neither of you can let yourselves get swept up with the rest. If you do and you end up on those tracks, you’re as good as dead.

People move aside at a snail's pace, many of them too focused on trying to see what is going on on the subway tracks. This isn't good. You need to move faster or else—

The collective sound of the gates opening echoes in your head, a metallic hiss that makes your stomach fold into itself. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you both whip your heads back to look, to confirm, but it’s a mistake.

The briefest lapse in attention is enough to pull you both into the current of people, and try as you might to fight against it, the crowd splits you and the woman apart as it swallows you both whole. You’re both spat onto the tracks at the edge of the platform and your head collides with the metal rails of the track. It feels like your skull is about to crack in two, and it takes every fiber in your being to scramble to your feet. You're close enough to the platform that if you can just climb up it, then you'll be—

“Help! Help!”

It’s the woman’s voice. You turn to see that she ended up a couple meters away from you. She’s staring at you, eyes brimming with fear filled tears as she extends her hand in your direction. You take a step toward her, reaching out.

And then, her entire body is engulfed in flames, the skirt of her magical girl costume a ring of fiery death around her.

Her blood curdling scream is the only thing you can hear, her burning flesh, the only thing you can see. You don’t know what to do.

You can’t save her.

There's something touching your back. You can barely feel the pressure, but it's hot, scorching hot, mind numbingly hot, painfully hothothot.

You know this sensation. You have felt it before. The scent of burning cloth, burning hair, burning flesh clogs your nostrils. It's too late, you realize, helpless, despaired as the flames eat at your body— your soon to be corpse.

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the tenth time.

Your head hurts, but you ignore it. There’s something more important that you need to attend to. You immediately make your way to the woman you met during your last round, the one you watched burn to death. Her costume is still pristine, unmarred by fire and death.

For now.

She’s not screaming this time and while there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that’s concerned by this, you try to ignore it.

“Um, excuse me?” you say when she doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach.

The woman turns to look at you. You’re taken aback by the distinct lack of recognition and it feels almost as if the woman you encountered previously and the one before you now are two separate people. In a way, they technically are.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asks when you don’t say anything.

Your mouth is dry. How do you even answer that? You don’t know her. You just watched her die twice. You know her. She begged you for help. You couldn’t save her.

If you explain all of this you know she’s just going to think you’ve lost your mind. Maybe you already have— you’ve died nine times after all.

You give her a weak smile. “I… just wanted to tell you that you think your costume looks great.”

She blinks, taken aback by your words. There’s no doubt that she wasn’t expecting you to say that. It’s the truth though, her costume is nice; she’s dressed up as a character from a magical girl anime that was popular a couple years ago.

“Thank you! I made it myself!” The woman breaks out into a genuine smile and your heart hurts. In a few moments she’ll die and the costume she worked so hard to make will be nothing but ash on the subway tracks.

“Sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“For?”

For watching her die. For not being able to save her.“...I just kind of came up to you all of a sudden…”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

You consider telling her that she should try to move. That if she stays here she will die. You don’t want her to die. Again. You can still hear her screaming in your ears as she burned to death. You want to tell her.

You don’t.

“Stay safe, okay?” you say. It almost sounds like you’re begging.

She gives you another smile, kind and gentle and you think you’re far too undeserving of it for not telling her what fate will soon befall her. “You too.”

“I’ll try,” you say and move away from the woman just as the gates open and the crowd surges toward the railway. You do not fight it as you are swept up into the crowd and despite what you said, you do not try, this time, to stay safe.

You die for the tenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the fourteenth time.

There’s a slight ache in your head, but it’s subtle enough that you can ignore it. The pain you feel lessens with each round and you think it’s a sign that your body no longer feels the need to remind you of the precarious situation that you’re in.

Or maybe you are just becoming numb to everything: your death, the death of the people around you, the death of the woman in the magical girl costume—

You try not to think about it too much as you reach into your bag to check the time on your phone: 8:37PM. There’s not a lot of time: you need to move.

At the very end of your last attempt to escape this nightmare you realized something. You need to know exactly what is going on around you so you can plan accordingly: where to not stand, where to not go. Up until now, you’ve relied almost solely on the knowledge gained from your previous failures to try and survive, but obviously it’s not enough to keep you alive. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize this earlier. The panic, maybe? The fear?

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

Unlike previous iterations, this time you elect to move closer to the gate, positioning yourself somewhere against it where you’re unlikely to be pushed off the platform in a couple minutes when they open. You take great care to place yourself where you can see the ones responsible for the slaughter very clearly. At the beginning, you could only see one, the one who looks the most human, but with each repetition, the other two have become more and more clear. You wonder why. You don’t have time to think about it.

Murmurs nearby alert you to the arrival of the fourth major player involved in the night’s events. You look up and see the white haired man dressed in all black descending upon the platform like an angel from the heavens. This is your first time really looking at him and you realize there’s something almost inhumanly attractive about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it occurs to you that you shouldn’t even try; you don’t have the time to be drooling over some handsome stranger.

You’ve naturally never taken the time to try and listen to whatever the conversation the man and his opponents have before all hell breaks loose on the platform, but you try and lean closer to listen. It’s hard to hear over the dozens of conversations going on behind you, but you try anyway. There might be a clue to what’s actually going on— or better yet, a clue on how to get out of it.

It’s obvious that you’re missing context from what bits of the conversation you do manage to hear, but honestly it all sounds like stuff out of a shounen battle manga. There is one part of the exchange that you manage to hear with a startling sort of clarity. It feels almost as if your heart stops beating as your blood turns ice cold in your veins.

“If I run away, you’re just gonna kill everyone here, right?” the man in black asks.

There’s a pause, and if your heart was still beating it’d be long enough for just four heartbeats.

“If you run away?” The monster with cane repeats, the sadistic grin spreading wide across its features, displaying its charcoal black teeth. The gravelly sound of its voice sets fire to the blood in your veins, your stilled heart thumping wildly, in fear, in anticipation. Soon. It’s happening soon. You brace yourself. “We’re going to do that even if you don’t!”

You die a fourteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the seventeenth time now.

Things are going surprisingly well, even as the people around you tumble onto the tracks. You manage to hold on, desperation keeping you from falling into the abyss. This is good, you tell yourself, despite the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve achieved this. Every little victory is worth celebrating, but you have to remain vigilant. This is yet another information gathering loop, and while you know that maybe this time you’ll be lucky and live, there’s still a chance, a big one, at that, that you will die again.

You have to make the most of each and every death.

It’s such a morbid thought, but the ends justify the means, or so you tell yourself. If you have to die a few times to make it out of this unending nightmare, then so be it.

The spot you’re in is a good vantage point; it’s easier to see everything happening below you. It’s so good that it’s actually sickening. You watch as the monster with the cane and one with what looks like branches for eyes slaughter the people on the track, mowing them down, setting them aflame. In another life, in another many lives, that was you down there, and for what feels like the first time in forever, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You feel like, at some point, you likened the scene before you to some kind of shounen battle manga, but you think that was wrong.

This is borderline horror.

Everything plays out before you like a scene out of an action horror flick. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just an extra on set, but you know the reality is that you’re just an extra to whatever phantasmal battle is taking place in front of you. The monsters and the strangely dressed man all try to attack the man in black, but he manages to block every hit effortlessly, as if he is protected by some sort of invisible barrier. When it seems the two monsters are about to hit him, he merely jumps out of the way and the two monsters seem to collide, the force of their combined strength sending a gust of air throughout the crowd. The man in black neatly lands on a nearby platform half wall and says something about curse users, whatever those are, to the monsters, before he starts to mock them, pulling down his strange blindfold in the process.

And this, you’ve found, is where you start to get in trouble.

You clearly remember thinking, at some point, previously, that there was something attractive about this man. You still don’t know what it is. You haven’t had the time to try and figure it out, but there is one thing that you do know: you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He drops back down onto the tracks, antagonizing his opponents in an arrogant tone as he approaches. When he comes to a stop between the two monsters, the second round of their fight begins. They try to hit him, but he dodges still, gracefully, fluidly, like the three of them are embroiled in some sort of passionate, yet violent dance.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he cruelly rips off one of the arms of the one-eyed monster.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he brutally kicks the branch-eyed monster in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the platform.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he effortlessly hurls the one-eyed, now one-armed monster in the same direction, sending them smashing into the wall.

Only when the man in black seems to fly to the other side is the spell over you seemingly broken. Still, your eyes give chase, and your body too, rushing from one side of the platform to the other. You can’t lose sight of this fight, you tell yourself, settling in a spot you recall being safe during your last round. Doing so could mean another death, another loop, another October 31.

You watch as the man in black acrobatically dodges what looks to be vines or roots that the monster with branches for eyes seems to have summoned from the depths of the Tokyo metro. He lands on the monster’s shoulders, balancing on them as he uses its branch-eyes for leverage. The look in the man’s eyes is so crazed that you can see it from where you’re standing. He says something to it and then—

With a feral and sadistic smile, he rips their eyes straight out of their skull.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest as you watch the fight unfold. It is horrifyingly, disgustingly violent, yet still you watch as people on the track are killed by the human-like person, blood raining down as their freshly beheaded skulls go flying into the air. He and the one-eyed monster launch their counter attacks against the man in black and the blowback is so intense the power goes out causing everyone to scream.

There’s a faint glow where the man in black is standing that starts to grow brighter and brighter. You can make out his form turning to face the wall, and it seems almost like he’s slammed the monster that had branches for eyes against it with some sort of telekinetic power. Despite the panic from the people around you, you manage to hear him, chuckling like a mad man as he draws closer and closer to the monster.

The one-eyed monster yells out a name, a name you think must belong to the man, but he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as he extends his hands out toward the eyeless monster, exerting some kind of force that you can’t really see. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as the eyeless monster’s entire body is vaporized in a flash of blue light. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster, as the lights flicker back on revealing a smoking crater stained with purple blood where the eyeless monster once stood.

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And this is the eighteenth time.

You watch as the man called Satoru Gojo stalks through the crowd of people on the subway tracks, chasing after the one-eyed fire monster. It throws people at him, in a clear attempt to slow him down.

It does not work.

Satoru Gojo climbs back onto the platform in a way that you can only describe as inhuman, and the people nearby shriek and move away from him, out of terror, out of fear. You, on the other hand, draw closer, refusing to lose sight of him.

He is relentless in his pursuit of the one-eyed monster. It continues to throw person after person at him, but he does not stop and the people float there, suspended in midair before they are gently lowered to the ground by some unseen force and scramble away.

No one dares get close to Satoru Gojo, everyone on the platform seems to know that doing so means certain death, yourself included. But you still feel the need to keep an eye on him. The monster and the strangely dressed man are focusing more on him than the crowd— anyone in between is just collateral damage.

But not you.

Especially since you’ve made it this far— you’ve never made it this far before.

A voice echoes throughout the platform; you realize it’s the automated announcement.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You can hear everyone’s relief coming from all sides. The train is coming! The train is coming! A ripple of hope makes its way throughout the crowd. With the train comes the chance to get off the platform and the senseless violence that’s been happening here. Some of the people around you are talking excitedly and others are running toward the gates, toeing the yellow line they’ve been instructed to wait behind. And you, you should be excited, you should be hopeful.

All you feel is dread.

It eats at your stomach, at your chest, at your mind. Clawing and gnawing at you in a way that leaves you paralyzed on the platform. There’s something wrong here. You can’t be sure because you’ve never made it this far, never survived long enough for the train to come, but something is just not right.

No.

You must be paranoid. The train coming is a good thing. It has to be a good thing. You are just paranoid. It’s normal. It’s natural. Dying seventeen times would do that to anyone— rob them of hope, condemn them to an existence full of fear.

It is not lost on you that the thought of dying more than once, much less, dying seventeen times is not normal or natural in the very slightest.

But you need hope, you crave it, wildly, desperately. The hope of freedom, of escape is the only thing getting you through this unending nightmare. Every time you die, every time you wake, it is with the hope that maybe, just maybe this iteration will be different, maybe this one will be the one where you make it out, make it back to your friends who must be waiting for you, make it back home where you can be safe and sound. You need the hope to keep going. Because without hope, what will you have left?

The train screeches as it pulls into the station and the people around you laugh in both disbelief and relief. They start to push and shove toward it, fighting to be able to board because there’s no way everyone here will be able to get on an eight car train and being left behind at this point is practically synonymous with death. Unable to decide if you believe in the train as a symbol of hope or a new layer of fear, you are pushed along with the crowd toward it.

The doors of the train cars slide open and the current passengers all rush off as they disembark. You as well as everyone else on the platform can see with a horrifying clarity that the train is filled to the brim with monsters. Monsters that reach out and grab anyone their hands can reach. The woman to your left. The person to your right.

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

If there is anything this entire ordeal has taught you, it is that you are resilient. Whether it is some innate trait that you never had any reason to uncover before or just a byproduct of being trapped in an unending cycle of being dead and not dead, you don't know. What you do know, though, is that even if you no longer have hope, you at least have your resilience.

Whether you want it or not.

You check the time. It’s 8:35PM. Something flickers in your chest, like a faint light in a sea of darkness, but you ignore it. You don’t have time right now.

With a nimbleness born from your previous failures, you weave your way through the crowd. You’ve done this enough times to know where the gaps are— who will yield and who won’t. Your destination is the escalator that leads off the platform and up to a higher part of the station. You’d noticed previously that the escalator along with every other entrance onto the platform will eventually be blocked by vines or roots of some sort (the work of the branch-eyed monster probably). It’s not a perfect plan because you don’t know what happens on the other side, but whatever it is has to be better than whatever is happening on the side that you’ve been on.

You’d tried to get to the stairs during your last two rounds, but you’d just missed it. You hadn’t been fast enough and had gotten caged and slaughtered along with the rest. But this time, this time you have more time. It’s just one minute, but it’s enough. You know it is.

The flickering in your heart grows stronger. Hope. You try not to pay attention to it— you don’t want to be disappointed yet again. But you want to so badly. A voice in the back of your mind tells you to focus on the good, tells you that if there was truly no way out of this endless nightmare, then why would you get more and more time with each round to escape your fate?

With that thought in mind, you break out into a run, recklessly rushing through the crowd, shoving anyone who will not yield to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the stark white of Satoru Gojo’s hair as he descends upon the platform.

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

If you remember correctly, the roots and vines don’t close off the area the moment he touches down, but a little after they start talking, so you think there is probably some time, but you can’t leave it to chance.

The stairs are packed, and for some reason no one is moving. The escalator right next to it is just as full and the power doesn’t seem to be working. You don’t have time for this. You clamber onto the escalator’s rubber handrail, ignoring the weird feeling that passes through your body as you do so. You don’t have the time to worry about whatever that is. The people around you start exclaiming around you, but you don’t care, you don’t listen. You wobble as you try to balance yourself and when you think you’re steady you try to run.

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This marks the thirtieth time.

And you have, finally, finally made it up the escalator, up the stairs with barely a second to spare. You pause, glancing back as the roots or vines or whatever the hell they are seal off the entrance to the platform. You notice that the area where the plants come down is actually fairly clear, despite the crowd. It seems weird, but you don’t dwell on it.

A strange feeling envelops your entire body and your legs turn into jelly. As you sink to the floor, you realize what you’re feeling is relief as all the tension, maybe thirty iterations of Halloween 2018 worth, seeps from your being. You don't remember the last time you felt anything other than fear and dread; it’s weird, but not unwelcome.

That voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't relax just yet: October 31st isn’t over. Even though you have repeated this night again and again, burning the events that play out on the platform into your memory, you do not know a single thing that happens over here. It would be smart to scope everything out.

Legs still shaky, you rise to your feet and start walking. You think it’s probably for the best to try and head up to the surface and you make your way up to the next floor.

It’s packed with people here too, but relatively peaceful, especially when you compare it to the pandemonium taking place beneath your feet. Still, you can make out the undeniable hum of displeasure resonating throughout the crowd. People complaining about how uncomfortable their costumes are, people complaining about how much they want to go home, people complaining about how much their nights have been ruined because they couldn’t meet up with their friends and—

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

That’s why you were on the platform in the first place— you were waiting for them to arrive, but then the trains stopped working, and people just started pouring into the station out of seemingly nowhere (you think you heard some people say they’d come from the crossing?). Soon after that is when everything went to shit.

You check your phone, though, for once it’s not to look at the time (8:56PM). Instead, you open LINE to check your friends’ group chat. There’s no signal here, for whatever reason, so if there are any new messages, you haven’t received them. The last one was from Kei, mentioning he was enroute, but as far as you know, you’re the only one who made it to Shibuya before the trains stopped.

Did one of them maybe make it here though? Surely, you would have run into them if—

The image of a woman in a magical girl costume fills your vision, burning to death before your very eyes as her screams echo in your ears. It is the first time in what feels like forever that you’ve thought about her and your stomach churns violently. You couldn’t help her, you can’t even help yourself, so how could you even expect to do the same for your friends if they were here? The mere thought of having to watch them die over and over is almost enough to send you over the edge. You don’t know if you could do it.

Would you even have a choice?

No. You can't think like that. You have choices. You've had choices. If you didn’t then, you would still be down below, among the fire and brimstone. Dying, if not dead already. However, instead, you are up here, where, for the moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

That thought, in of itself, is enough to give you a shred of solace, a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and fiddle with your phone a little more, changing your lock screen to a picture you and your friends took at a photo booth not too long ago. The four of you are huddled together, faces squished as if you're all struggling to fit in the frame, despite there being plenty of room. You're mid-laugh because it's the first time you've been in a photo booth in years, Mio and Shin are grinning mischievously and finally, Kei is smiling, but only just slightly, the embarrassment clear on his face. It's probably only been a few months since you all took this picture, but the fact that it feels like it's been years makes your heart ache.

You press your forehead to the screen, like a prayer, like a promise.

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

A shrill scream yanks you from your thoughts and you are instantly on your feet, alert as your eyes flit around frantically to identify the source. It doesn't take long for you to find it and when you do, you think you might have stumbled upon a new layer of horror to this nightmare.

It’s not the corpse, dangling by a noose, that terrifies you— by now you’ve seen dozens upon dozens of dead bodies that the sight of just one more doesn’t faze you in the slightest. The thing that’s the most mortifying, that’s the most disturbing is that right next to where the body is tied are two girls, two teenage girls still dressed in their school uniforms.

You can accept monsters and weirdly dressed men being responsible for the carnage tonight, but children too? Both girls look like they’re barely in high school and try as you might to rationalize things, to chalk it up to coincidence, you cannot ignore the ominous energy radiating from them.

The very notion that these two children could have killed someone here is a hard pill to swallow, but so is the fact that you’ve died.

And you’ve had to swallow that pill thirty times now, so what’s once more?

“Listen up!” one of the girls yells over the crowd, but she is mostly ignored; you don’t think everyone here has noticed her and the corpse dangling from the rafters. She scowls and turns to the other girl and says something quietly to her. The other girl nods and almost instantly she’s stringing up another person, another example. You want to look away so badly, and yet you cannot bring yourself to and you watch the poor soul choke to death.

“I said listen, you dumb monkeys!” the girl shouts, and this time she’s caught most of the crowd’s attention. “If you don’t want to end up like these two, you’ll listen to what we have to say!”

There is clear dissent among the crowd, people dismissive as they utter their disbelief. Some seem to think it’s a prank, but you know better. It takes two more examples before the crowd goes silent before the two high schoolers.

“About damn time!” The girl roars and then points toward the atrium, which is currently covered by roots and branches. “All of you move over there!”

You have a bad feeling about this.

Still, you comply; the girls have made it abundantly clear that failure to do so will result in death, though, at this point, you're almost certain this iteration is a bust and death is all but imminent. You try to keep positive— thinking you can at least gather information or, who knows, maybe there's a chance that this one is the one.

Yet when you step onto the mound of vines and branches that cover the atrium it feels as if you've crossed the threshold into hell. Your footing is stable… but for how long?

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

It's faint, but you can hear the announcement from below. The liquid in your stomach curdles at the sound as you recall the train and, in particular, what is on board. Soon enough, those monsters will be swarming the platform, massacring everyone in reach, guzzling down their blood, feasting on their flesh—

It dawns on you that the people on the platform are the monsters' first course.

And you, and those around you here in the shrubbery, are the second.

As you realize this, the branches and vines disintegrate beneath your very feet and suddenly you are mid air— falling, falling into the abyss below.

You die for the thirtieth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

After countless failures, you've decided that you're just not going to go upstairs any more. No matter where you try to go, you still end up herded onto the death trap above the platform where you ultimately fall to your death. You've tried positioning yourself in the same spot, tried bracing yourself for the drop— but nothing seems to work: upon landing, assuming you manage to land without hurting yourself or dying in midair (which has happened a couple times) you get grabbed and killed by one of the monsters from the train. It's probably not impossible, you just don't have the physical prowess or reflexes for it.

If anything, you can try again later, but you sincerely hope you don't have to.

It's 8:32PM, and you have plenty of time to get to your chosen spot for this loop— it's close to the stairs, in the very center of the platform. Here, there's little risk of getting pushed off onto the tracks when the gates open. You'll probably have to move when the train comes, or even before (assuming you survive) to avoid the monsters, but you'll get to that when it's time.

You can't really see the fight once it breaks out after Satoru Gojo arrives, but you still try to keep track of it as best as you can. You see when he hurls both monsters across the platform and you're not sure if it's muscle memory or what but you have to fight the urge to move to the side and watch. It's been a while, yes, but you've seen the fight countless times before— it doesn't change. Satoru Gojo will give chase. He will rip the branches from the branch eyed monster's skull. He will use some kind of power to eviscerate them.

You don't need to watch, but there's something in you that wants to.

It doesn't make sense, you've seen it all before; if you're unlucky you'll see it all again.

The lights go out and people start screaming; Satoru Gojo is ending the life of that one monster. Soon enough he'll be back on the platform, in pursuit of the other. You think at that point it would be good to move, reposition yourself as far from the incoming train as possible.

When he rises from the tracks like a demon straight from hell, you realize it's the first time this loop that you've actually gotten a good look at him. You remind yourself, again, that this isn't the first time you've seen this man, this scene. You can't help but watch, but stare at Satoru Gojo as he stalks through the crowd in pursuit of his prey. His expression is an eerie sort of calm that's at odds with the acts of violence you've seen him commit— his eyes an unnaturally bright blue.

He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

The sound of the announcement sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, snapping you out of your little trance. The train is coming and you need to get moving. As you dart to the edge of the platform, the thought occurs to you that even if you avoid the initial wave of monsters, it's likely you will inevitably be caught by them and killed. It wouldn't be impossible for Satoru Gojo to turn his attention to them instead of the two he's currently facing, but he's just one man— can he truly defeat all those monsters?

You can see the train pulling in and you brace yourself, praying that it'll work out somehow.

The doors hiss open and the screaming starts again as the monsters come bursting out of the train, biting and mauling anyone they can get their hands on. Those who were lucky enough to not be at the front start to scramble away and the monsters give chase. Your body is taut, ready to try and dodge any that come your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice something moving through the air. A person? With blue hair? You take the risk to look— they're attacking Satoru Gojo. He tries to punch them but they fly away from him to dodge— disappearing into the crowd.

You hear a loud cracking sound over the cacophony of the crowd and your stomach twists; you know what that sound is. The roots above the atrium disintegrate and bodies from above start to rain down onto the platform.

And then, you're not sure what happens— it's so quick that you only manage to see what looks like an explosion of blood surrounding Satoru Gojo. Corpses litter the ground around him and even from here you can tell he is shaken by the carnage.

The monsters have finally reached where you're standing, and you duck under one as it lunges at you. Although it's big and scary, you realize it's moving kind of slow. Right after it another one comes at you and you take a side step to avoid it; this monster is kind of slow too.

Maybe you can do this.

As soon as you think that a strange feeling courses through you. Every hair on your body feels like it's standing on edge and the voice in your head is telling you to look at Satoru Gojo. You don't understand why because you think he's the least of your worries right now, but you do it anyway.

He's in some sort of stance, one hand raised to his face, fingers bent in some kind of gesture. There's some sort of aura, oppressive and frightening emanating from his form.

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are utterly confused.

Barring your first few loops when you weren't fully aware of what was happening, you have very distinct memories of how each of your previous iterations of this night have gone— of each and every one of your deaths. But for your last round, the last thing you remember was feeling the immense power radiating from Satoru Gojo's body, but that's it.

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

And yet, here you are again, back at the start: it's 8:32PM and the monsters and strangely dressed man are standing on the subway tracks waiting for the arrival of Satoru Gojo.

You don't understand what's going on; you didn't die but you're still stuck in this damn loop. Up until now, your death has served as the trigger to restart the loop. It's not impossible that maybe you suffered a quick and painless death but you're almost certain that isn't the case.

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

You have to find out what. If you don't, you won't know how to avoid it, and if you can't do that, then you really might spend an eternity stuck in this nightmare. And so you take great care to repeat the steps of your last round. You need to make sure to survive to the same point you made it to last time.

Miraculously, you do.

The moment you feel that sensation again, a prickling sort of feeling that envelops your entire body, your eyes are on Satoru Gojo— trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. His eyes are crazed with a desperate kind of focus. You see his mouth move— he's saying something. A spell? A prayer? A curse?

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

Again.

You do not know how many times it's been the night of Halloween in Shibuya: you stopped counting around the hundredth loop. It feels like it's been a while since then. Or maybe it hasn't? You don't know any more.

What you do know is that this night ends up going one of two ways before you are forced to repeat it. Either you die, in some way, shape or form or something happens just after nine that forces you to reset. You still don't know what it is exactly; you only know that Satoru Gojo is responsible for it.

You do prefer it to dying— it's far less painful.

But if anything, you wish you could just die permanently and never have to repeat this night ever again.

Unfortunately, you know better.

The only good thing you’ve noticed about all of this is that you really do seem to keep waking up earlier and earlier. The last time you checked, it was at around 8:30. It might take hundreds of thousands of loops, but eventually you’ll certainly wake up early enough to avoid this damn entire mess.

But by the time that happens… will your sanity still be intact? Will you really be able to go back to a normal day to day life after living the equivalent of hundreds of years, repeating the same night over and over again? You don’t even know how you’ve managed to stay sane all this time and as much as you want to believe you could do it…

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

If you’re lucky, you’ll reach the latter first.

There’s a dull ache in your head that feels foreign yet familiar. Your mind is foggy, all your thoughts hazy as you try to recall what the word for this feeling is.

Groggy.

It feels as if you’ve woken up from a nap and you blink the sleepiness away from your eyes. When was the last time you took a nap? It’s been a while… You think you maybe tried once or twice, but you were too nervous, too on edge. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter because, either way, you were doomed to repeat this nightmare.

As you think this, you realize that something is different.

You’re used to how the start of each loop feels like waking up suddenly and abruptly and it becomes clear to you that you haven’t looped. This is completely uncharted territory.

You need to find out what’s going on.

The first thing you notice is that it’s quiet. Almost eerily so, especially when the last thing you remember was screaming and chaos. You glance around you and find that it looks like all the monsters from the train are dead, the ground littered in their bloodstains and corpses. There were so many of them, you don’t know how someone could have wiped them out so quickly… Could it possibly have been Satoru Gojo’s doing?

More concerning than the complete eradication of the monsters is the fact that nearly everyone else on the platform is standing stock still, their mouths ajar with blank expressions on their faces. It’s almost as if their souls have completely vacated their bodies…

Were you like that too before you woke up?

You hear voices, and your body immediately goes tense as you turn your head in their direction. A little ways ahead of you, you see a man dressed as a monk conversing with the blue haired person from earlier and before them is—

Your heart nearly stops: it’s Satoru Gojo, restrained and on his knees.

Honestly, you can’t make heads or tails of the conversation they’re having; it’s more shounen battle manga nonsense. Satoru Gojo doesn’t seem to be enjoying their conversation either, and he interrupts them, clearly annoyed.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks. “The view sucks and I’m just kinda bored.”

“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a little bit longer, but you are right,” the monk says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen— gate, close.”

When he says that, Satoru Gojo’s restraints move, the weirdly shaped cubes at the ends of them closing in around him, trapping him in a giant red cube. It starts to shrink until it’s small enough to fit in the monk’s hand.

You gulp and hope they don’t notice that you’re awake. The fact that they haven’t slaughtered the rest of the people standing around you is a good sign, but you don’t want to find out what happens if they know you’re cognizant.

It’s not hard to play the part of a living statue, especially when you compare it to everything else you’ve had to suffer through on this night. You watch as the monk’s allies, the ones who had attacked everyone on the platform, wake up, but before they can do or say anything, the box holding Satoru Gojo slips through the monk’s fingers and makes a dent in the concrete. The look on the monk’s face makes it clear that it’s a problem he wasn’t expecting.

You don’t know a damn thing about Satoru Gojo, but you feel like this kind of thing is the norm for him.

The blue haired person suddenly looks in your direction and you nearly stop breathing. Have they noticed you? It takes everything in you to keep perfectly still, in hopes that maybe they didn't, that maybe they’re looking at something else. They raise their arm and it extends, their hand acting like some kind of projectile. You almost shut your eyes and brace yourself for impact, but their hand flies upwards and hits something on the ceiling, destroying it.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief— you’re still safe.

For now.

You listen to their following conversation and while you still don’t fully understand everything, it’s clear they’re talking about what to do next since they’ve taken care of Satoru Gojo. Something having to do with someone named Yuji Itadori? The group seems split on what to do about him but it’s clear he’s their next target.

Eventually, everyone but the monk (you heard the blue haired person, who is apparently named Mahito, call him Geto?) runs off, probably to find this Yuji Itadori person. Once they’re gone, Geto speaks and, at first, you think he’s talking to you, but it becomes clear he’s addressing someone else. “Those cursed spirits are actually smarter than the two of you.”

“Give him back!” a voice hidden among the crowd hisses. Your blood runs cold at the sound. You recognize it; it’s one of the high school girls from the upper floor.

“We cooperated with you fully and kept dropping monkeys for you,” says another voice; it must be the other girl that was with her, the one who hung all those people.

“Now give us back Master Geto’s body like you promised!”

“Don’t toy with Master Geto any further than you have!”

You blink in confusion. Isn’t the monk named Geto? The way the girls are talking it sounds like they’re talking about someone else… Is it possible that the body is ‘Geto’ but the person they’re talking to is someone else possessing it? It sounds kind of crazy, but then again, so is every single thing you’ve experienced tonight.

Your suspicions concerning this ‘Geto’ are confirmed only seconds later as he says, “Now begone, or is it your desire to be killed by this body?”

One of the girls vows her revenge and you hear shuffling somewhere else in the crowd as they scurry away. Now you think it’s just you and whoever it is that’s puppeting Geto’s body. You see him plop down in front of the box (the prison realm, you think he’d called it) that’s holding Satoru Gojo.

“You can come out, you know,” he says after a while.

You freeze. The rest of the platform is completely silent. This time you think he might actually be talking to you.

“I know you’re there,” ‘Geto’ adds, his voice casual. “If you’re insistent on hiding, you should know that I’m not afraid of using whatever means necessary to smoke you out.”

Given everything his allies have done, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s serious. You were hoping to hide out among the crowd until he decided to leave, but it looks like you won’t be able to now.

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

Your heart starts to race as you weave your way through the crowd. In every single one of your loops, you were always treated like a bit character, never noticed or singled out by any of the major players of the night. Although this is your first time encountering this ‘Geto’ it’s clear to you that he’s involved with everything that’s happened here and honestly, you get the feeling he might actually be the mastermind behind the massacre.

That makes you even more nervous.

You come to a stop in the place where Satoru Gojo was once kneeling before he was put in that box. Now that you’re out in the open, ‘Geto’ looks you over with some sort of nonchalant curiosity.

“You’re…” he starts, sounding thoughtful, "not a sorcerer, are you?”

Sorcerer. You heard that term thrown around by him and his group a few times. It’s what they’ve been referring to their enemies as. It probably wouldn’t be smart to lie and say you are one; you get the feeling he’d see through your lie anyway. “I’m not.”

He hums. “How interesting.”

“...what do you mean?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“It’s just you have an abnormally large amount of cursed energy for a non-sorcerer,” he explains. “Though, I suppose that all just sounds like gibberish to you."

You nod and look down at the box lodged in the floor. It has eyes, big creepy looking eyes. "...are you going to do the same thing to me as you did to that man?"

He laughs, "...fortunately for you, the prison realm only holds one person at a time and I need him sealed away more than you."

"...does that mean you're going to leave him in there forever?"

"If I'm feeling nice, I might unseal him in a hundred years or so."

One hundred years? At this point, you've probably lived roughly that amount of time through your loops alone, but for Satoru Gojo… "Won't he die first?"

"Only if he decides to," 'Geto' says, looking completely and wholly unbothered. "Time doesn't doesn't flow in the box, so when I unseal him, he'll be the same as he was just now. Physically anyway. Who knows how deteriorated his mind will be after all that."

Time doesn't flow in the box.

The words echo in your mind over and over. Time doesn't flow in the box. In other words, that means time has stopped in the box, and if that's the case then—

"Anyway, rather than worry about him, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

You look at 'Geto' and he's smiling at you, it's friendly, but ominous. There's no doubt what is going to happen next, though you had already resigned yourself to this iteration being a bust; it was only a matter of time.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I was thinking I might keep you around, even if you aren’t a sorcerer, your wealth of cursed energy would serve my plans well," he muses. "But… it would be too much trouble trying to teach you how to use it in time."

As he talks, you realize this is probably the first time your death is intentional— every other death you've suffered has just been a byproduct of the ongoing slaughter. You were just another casualty, a victim, never a target.

You're scared.

Even though you know that once he kills you, once you die, you'll just loop back to around 8:30 again. You'll be on the platform again. And you'll play out some sequence of events before you eventually die again. And again and again.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I'll be nice, though," 'Geto' says, raising a hand and another monster appears out of nowhere. You don’t even bother trying to figure out from where. It doesn’t matter, especially since this monster will surely be the one to end your life. "I'll make it painless."

"...I appreciate it," you say and close your eyes hoping that he's not lying about it.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you're trapped.

You don't know how and you don't know why, but you are stuck in a time loop— forced to suffer through the horrific events of the night before you die and begin it all again. It's been a long time since you stopped counting how many loops you've gone through, but if you had to guess, it's probably somewhere in the hundreds now.

You are so very tired.

But it doesn't stop. It won't stop no matter what you seem to do. You are stuck. You are trapped. You are doomed.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

Ever since that first loop where you heard whoever is possessing Geto's body say that, the words have been stuck in your head, playing on loop.

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

It's 8:25PM when you wake up; that should be plenty of time.

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

After hundreds of loops you've come to a singular conclusion: you need to prevent him being sealed in the prison realm. You've witnessed it enough to know that you won't be able to do it alone; you'll need his cooperation.

You rush upstairs as fast as you can, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine as you step onto the stairwell. According to your previous loops, Satoru Gojo arrives on the subway tracks at 8:40PM. With how crowded the upper floor is, you don’t know if you’ll have the time to intercept him and talk to him, but if you can at least figure out where to find him, then you can try and talk to him during a subsequent loop.

When you reach the fourth basement floor, however, you don’t know where you should even start. He’s pretty tall so you think you could spot him in the crowd, but… there are still so many people. It occurs to you that maybe it would be better to try and look from a higher vantage point so you head to the stairs that lead up to the third basement floor. You check your phone again. It’s 8:35PM; you need to hurry.

Luckily for you, you find him very easily on the third basement floor.

The only problem is that he’s in a hard to reach spot— squatting above a sign hanging over the crowd.

You check your phone again. It’s 8:38PM and he’s starting to move, presumably to meet with those waiting for him on the subway tracks. It’s good that you found him, but there’s no doubt about it.

You’re going to need more time.

The moment you wake up, you immediately bolt toward the stairs. It's taken many, many more loops, but you've finally brought the time you wake down to around 8:15. You're still not sure if it's enough time, but there's only one way to find out.

You barrel your way up to the next floor and zig zag through the crowd to get to the next flight of stairs. By the time you get to your destination, you're completely out of breath, your chest heaving as your lungs clamor for air. You’ve done this so many times, yet your body acts like it’s always the first. It sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You slow to a brisk pace to catch your breath and check the time. It’s 8:27— a new record. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

The goal is to catch Satoru Gojo before he moves to his lookout point above the crowd. While not impossible, it would be difficult for you to follow him there. You eye the safety barricade that blocks off the area where he’ll be moving in just a few minutes warily.

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

You don’t want to think about it right now; you’ll deal with it when the time comes.

Especially since Satoru Gojo has now entered your field of vision.

Your heart starts to race at the sight of him and it feels like it’s beating a million times a second. There isn’t a lot of time. You need to talk to him, but your legs only wobble, your feet planted firmly to the ground. This is not good. You need to move. You need to move.

Finally, after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, your feet finally budge, propelling you in Satoru Gojo’s direction. The beating of your heart only grows louder as you make your way toward him, mingling with the single thought that’s echoing throughout your mind right now: will he even hear you out?

You need to make him.

“Excuse me!” The words nearly come out in a stutter as you realize that you are actually talking to Satoru Gojo. You have watched this man at a distance for so long that it almost felt like he wasn’t real, like he was just another fixture in this nightmare that you’ve been living for far too long. And yet, here he is, right in front of you, in the flesh.

And his attention is on you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is actually a little overwhelming. Your mouth is dry and suddenly you don’t know what to say, but you need to say something. You need to say something before he thinks maybe you bumped into him by accident and just walks away without a word.

“I need to talk to you!” The words just burst out from your mouth and something about it is just absolutely embarrassing. You’re not sure if it's desperation or the fact that you haven’t really talked to anyone other than the existence occupying Suguru Geto’s body in nearly forever.

Satoru Gojo’s lips slowly start to form a smile, “Oh, yeah?”

The sound of his voice makes your mind go blank. There’s something different about it right now; more playful, amused even. Maybe it’s because he’s talking to you, a harmless human being and not a monster trying to kill him. It’s almost kind of jarring, but you know, with certainty, what Satoru Gojo’s voice sounds like. And the fact that he’s actually talking to you right now has you kind of excited. You nod, doing your best to not show how thrilled you are that he’s not ignoring you.

He hums thoughtfully, “Sorry… but unfortunately I kind of have some business to attend to right now.”

“I—” You start to say that you know that he’s headed down to the platform below to fight with…Choso and Jogo, you think their names are— you don’t know the name of the monster with the branches for eyes. “It’s— it’s really important!”

Gojo tilts his head a little, clearly thinking. You should probably say something else, something to try and convince him to stay a little longer and hear you out, but your mind is both full and blank. Where do you start? From the beginning? Or do you start with what is most important? Maybe you should say what you think will get his attention. You’re not sure, and you realize you really should have thought about this earlier because you’re running out of time right now.

“...mind handing me your phone?”

You stare at Gojo, completely and wholly confused, but he just holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t move, he wiggles his fingers a little, a silent gesture telling you to hurry it up. Without thinking, you reach into your bag and unlock your phone before handing it to him.

“Kind of sucks that cell service isn’t working right now,” he remarks as he types something into your phone before handing it back. “But! Here's my number.”

You look down at your phone and, sure enough, Satoru Gojo has added himself as one of your contacts. He’s even added a little star to the end of his name. That’s… a little unexpected. Why his number though?

“Are you… hitting on me?” you mutter in your confusion.

He laughs, “Well, you said you had something really important to talk to me about, right? So just give me a call when you get home or some time tomorrow and we can talk then!”

You’re not going to make it home, or even to tomorrow, and neither will Satoru Gojo. As you start to tell him this, he steps past you. Desperate, you try to grab him, but somehow, for some reason, you can’t. You remember he did this with Jogo and the other monster, made himself untouchable.

This is not good.

He gives you a little wave, cheery as he says, “I’ll talk to you later!”

You watch, helpless as he hops over the barricade beyond your reach.

Gripping your phone tightly, you take a deep breath. It's fine, it's not like you didn’t expect things to go well anyway.

You'll just have to try again.

Every time you’ve tried to solicit help from Satoru Gojo, it has gone the same way. He just won’t give you the time of day, and in some ways you can’t blame him; he’s clearly here to deal with the monsters down on the platform. You’re fairly certain that he probably thinks that whatever is going on with you is a much lesser issue in comparison.

Plus, it probably doesn’t help that in the times that you’ve approached him, you haven’t been able to articulate yourself particularly well. Once you start talking to him, you just get hit with something akin to stage fright and the connection between your mind and your mouth just stops working. It’s gotten better with each attempt, but…

It’s just so frustrating.

It is interesting that Gojo has given you his number every time, star symbol and all. You’re not sure what kind of person you were expecting him to be, but after witnessing him literally and viciously rip monsters apart, you’d figured he’d be a little more somber. However, in the fragmented conversations you’ve had with him he’s come off as far more friendly and playful than you would have thought. Is he the type of person to get more serious when the situation calls for it? You can’t help but wonder, but ultimately, it doesn’t really matter.

What really matters is that you’re able to convince him to help you.

You have to convince him.

“Excuse me!” you say, stepping in Satoru Gojo’s path. You don’t stutter this time, and your voice is more sure. This is good.

“Yes?”

His head turns in your direction and you gulp. Gojo’s gaze, despite that blindfold of his, still feels just as overwhelming as it did the very first time you approached him. You have no doubt that he’s sizing you up, but there’s just something about it that makes you feel like you’re being picked apart.

You take a deep breath and step closer to him, hoping your voice sounds firm enough as you say, “I need your help. I’m trapped.”

He chuckles a little, “I know, but yours truly is on his way to go beat up the bad guys keeping you all trapped here, so soon enough you’ll be all free to go on your merry little way.”

Right. You were so caught up in your own plight that you nearly forgot that technically you’re not the only one ‘trapped.’ Satoru Gojo obviously knows that everyone else is confined to this station, but you doubt he knows that you’re confined to this night alone.

“That’s not what I mean!” you sputter.

“Then what do you mean?” Gojo asks. Should you tell him that you mean that you’re trapped in a time loop? You’re honestly not sure— in the movies and manga you’ve read about time travel, revealing that sort of thing risks creating a time paradox which seems to be a bad thing. If you have to tell him, you will, but— “Oh, I get it.”

You stare, bewildered. Did you maybe just spew all of that aloud?

Gojo gives you a mischievous smile. “You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” The word comes flying out of your mouth. You can’t deny he’s attractive— you’ve thought it all this time, but that is not what’s happening here.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he continues, ignoring you. “I totally get it, so if you want, I’d be happy to give you my number!”

Again? There’s really something odd about how he keeps giving you his number. Part of you wonders if he’s got some sort of ulterior motive, but you haven’t thought too deeply about it. There are way more important things going on.

“I don’t need your phone number,” you say. “I need to talk.”

Your response seems to give Gojo pause. Did you somehow manage to get through to him? No way. Your suspicions are all but confirmed when he gives you that familiar apologetic smile.

“Like, I said, I’m sort of in the middle of something, but…” Gojo reaches into his pockets and rummages around until one hand fishes out a folded up piece of paper. The other hand keeps digging around in his pocket and when Gojo seems to give up on whatever he’s looking for, he turns his attention back to you. “Got a pen?”

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

“I do, but…” You trail off, unsure why he’s asking.

He holds out his hand waiting for you to just hand him the pen. You still don’t get it, but you reach into your bag’s front pocket and pull out the pen and hand it to him. Gojo looks almost like an excited child when he takes it from you, quickly scribbling something onto his paper before shoving it and your pen back into your hand.

You look at the paper; it looks like a receipt. For a disturbing amount of mochi that Gojo bought earlier today. The amount of money he spent is almost sickening; way too much to be paying for mochi. More importantly, you notice something juxtaposed over the receipt’s print.

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

“If you change your mind later, just give me a call!” he tells you cheerily. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You gawk at him. He cannot be serious. You literally just told him that you didn’t need it and yet he still gave it to you. He must want you to contact him later, but you can’t even begin to understand why. It can’t have been something you said or did, right? Unless, he’s actually—

“Later!” Gojo’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you notice him walking off with a wave.

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

You crush the receipt in your hand and rush after him. Despite the crowd, Gojo seems to move through the people with ease and it almost seems like they are yielding to him naturally. It’s good for you. Makes him easier to chase.

“Wait!” you yell, but Gojo doesn’t even look back. Bastard. Your muscles strain as you try to run faster. You know you won’t be able to grab him if you get to him, but there has to still be something you can do to stop him. Circle around him? Cut him off before he—

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

“Wait!” you yell again. “Satoru Gojo, wait!”

He does not even acknowledge you.

You’re almost there though. Almost. If you reach out your hand, then maybe, maybe you can grab him. Something in your head tells you that it’s useless; you’ve never been able to touch him. But, you don’t care, you don’t care because you have to try. You stretch out your hand, desperate and hoping, but just as you do, Gojo effortlessly jumps over the barricade, moving to survey the crowd.

Due to your momentum, you almost collide into the barricade, but you manage to stop yourself. You stare at Satoru Gojo through the glass. He watches the crowd for at most three minutes. Is this just another bust? Is there really nothing you can do? There must be a way you can get his attention. Is it possible to climb over the barricade? No, it’s too high. There’s nothing you can grasp onto or use as footing either.

This fucking sucks.

Another minute or two and Gojo will be on the move again, and there will be no way you can follow, no way you can get his attention. You press your hands against the glass, pushing against it. Naturally, it doesn’t budge. Why would it? If only you could get it out of the way. If only you could break it. This stupid barricade is the only thing between you and Satoru Gojo and there’s no way you can climb it, but if only you could break it.

If only you could fucking break it.

Suddenly, the glass feels warm. Satoru Gojo’s image starts to look a little distorted as the warmth beneath your fingers grows. Something is happening. The glass starts to vibrate and shake. Violently. The tremors grow stronger and stronger. You should stop. You should back away.

You don’t.

The barricade starts to crack and fracture and soon the sound of shattering glass resounds throughout the entire room. Everyone starts screaming. No one knows what’s going on— not even you. But you don’t care. It’s gone. The barricade is gone.

You take a step forward, toward Satoru Gojo. He’s on a beam that’s about a two meter drop from where you’re standing. That’s fine. That’s okay. You can make it. You have to. Without a second thought, you jump—

And you land on the beam. You look up and Satoru Gojo’s attention is back on you. He’s finally, finally turned toward you, face twisted into an expression you can’t decipher or even comprehend, but—

Something’s wrong; your world is turning on its axis, but—

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are causing a commotion.

“Shit! Fuck!” you curse loudly. The people near you start to shift away but you barely notice; you don’t really care.

You were so close, so fucking close and yet… yet here you are again. It’s quarter past eight and you are back on the goddamn platform. You don’t know what happened; you remember falling and thinking you were going to die, but you are absolutely certain that, once again, this time, you didn’t die.

Is Satoru Gojo at fault again? Did he do something? Like he did all those other times you looped without dying? When you think about it more, you don’t think so. You don’t know what happened; all you know is that you tried to get to him, but you slipped.

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

You still don’t understand why you looped, but there’s not much you can do about it now; it’s not like you can go back anymore. It just sucks, because you think he might have actually listened if you’d talked to him.

Or he would have come after you for… whatever happened with the barricade. It could have been taken as an attack on the crowd… But if he thought you were doing that, then why would he catch you?

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

The only problem is that you don’t know how you managed to shatter the barricade. You think about it as you make your way up to where you’ll find Satoru Gojo. There is the possibility that it wasn’t you and something else happened to it instead, but that feels way too coincidental. It had to be you. That’s the only thing that makes sense. You just can’t figure out how you did it outside of wanting, wishing, praying for the barricade to break. It’s not like you have supernatural powers like Satoru Gojo and his enemies.

Despite your mind being completely and wholly occupied by trying to figure out how in the world you managed to break through that barricade, you still manage to make it to the second basement floor of Shibuya Hikarie by 8:25PM— a brand new record. Satoru Gojo doesn’t show up until around 8:34PM, so that gives you almost ten minutes to try and figure out what you need to do to try and replicate shattering the glass barricade again.

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

The thought that maybe you’re mistaken flashes in your mind before it’s quickly dismissed; there’s no way you’d mistake anyone else for him. There is absolutely no denying it: that is Satoru Gojo. Bewildered, you double check the time on your phone. Maybe you misread it and you’re actually late but sure enough you read it right— Satoru Gojo is here early.

What the hell is going on?

Of the thousands of times you have experienced this night, this hell, this sort of thing has never happened before. Everything happens at a specific time, as if adhering to an unseen schedule. It’s likely that what happened in your last iteration did delay Satoru Gojo’s arrival onto the platform, but other than that there has never been a deviation to the time table.

And yet, here Satoru Gojo is, nine minutes early now.

You realize that that’s not the only thing that’s strange: he’s not moving. In previous rounds, when you encounter Gojo here, he’s walking to the lookout spot beyond the barricade. But, right now, he’s just standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. It almost looks like he's waiting for something.

Or someone.

This unexpected turn of events has you rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you should do. No. This shouldn’t change anything. You need to talk to him. As concerning as a change like this is, the extra time it gives you should be a good thing. Despite knowing that, your feet are still firmly planted to the ground.

The crowd shifts and you see Satoru Gojo start to move. Toward the barricade? No. He’s not heading in his usual direction, rather he’s—

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is absolutely mind numbing.

He comes to a stop before you, lips curled up to form an amused sort of smile as he says, “Soooo, you needed to talk to me?”

You try to answer but no words come out of your mouth. Are you dreaming? You have to be, right? There's no way that this is actually happening. Could it be that, after thousands of loops, you’ve finally lost it? Your mind shattering along with the glass of the barricade at the end of the last one?

Gojo tilts his head, indicating that he's still waiting for an answer. When you open your mouth, at first, nothing comes out, the words stuck in your throat. You force them out, your voice cracking, “...how did you know?”

He smiles, looking almost mischievous as he reaches up and lightly taps the side of his head. “I remembered, of course!”

All you can do is stare at Satoru Gojo. He remembered? How is that possible? From his perspective, this is the first time you’ve met and while it shouldn’t be possible for him to remember there’s something in your mind that’s keeping you from completely dismissing the possibility.

Gojo laughs, “I take it from the look on your face that you’re not used to this sort of thing happening. Is this the first time?”

“No.” The fact that the word is out of your mouth before you can even really think about it surprises you and you really have to think. Your face scrunches together as you try to remember. Is this really not the first time? Then, the memories assault you, overlapping as they replay simultaneously in your head— a woman in a yellow and white magical girl costume— begging you for help as she burns to death— smiling as she tells you she made her costume herself. “...it happened just once a long time ago.”

“‘A long time ago,’ huh. Sounds like you've been at this for a while now.”

“...unfortunately.”

Gojo hums. “So when you said you didn’t need my phone number…”

“You’d already given it to me a few times,” you say, figuring that’s where this conversation is going.

“Really now?”

Does he not believe you? Or is he just being an ass? You’re not sure, but since you had taken the liberty of memorizing Satoru Gojo’s phone number you recite it back to him to prove your point.

Just when you think you may have stunned Gojo into silence he starts to laugh, obviously finding something funny about the fact that you know his cell phone number. “Seems like you've got quite the fascinating technique there.”

Technique? What is he talking about? Your confusion must be plain on your face because he adds, elaborating, “The time travel.”

You continue to stare at him. You don't think you'd consider what you've been going through time travel, because traveling implies moving from point A to point B, but you've been stuck walking in circles at point A for a long time. What really gets you is… “What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“You mean you don’t— oh. I get it; no wonder you’re trapped.”

That does not answer your question in the slightest. “Can you please explain what you're talking about? What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“Right, right… So basically, a technique is like a special sort of power,” he finally explains. “Like I said, your technique seems to be a kind of time travel. Whenever you activate it, your mind is sent back in time.”

What he's saying makes sense, but… “How come you were sent back too?”

He laughs again. “Isn't it obvious? Think back to before— do you remember that I caught you as you were falling?”

You nod slowly. The memory of his arms around you is almost embarrassingly vivid. “...is it because we were touching?”

“Ding, ding, ding! That's correct! Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!”

Something about his tone annoys you, but you try to ignore it. He could have just told you rather than make you guess. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” he continues. “You’ve done your little time loop a bunch of times, right? If your technique affected everyone, or even a few people in a select range you would have noticed for sure. And if it affected only just you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, now would we?”

When you think about it, you do think that the woman in the magical girl costume might have bumped into you before the loop where she remembered.

“That’s honestly just conjecture, but I've got pretty good eyes, so I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Gojo gives you a grin and while you do think that his reasoning is sound enough his confidence is a little grating. More than that, though, you’re glad that this conversation is actually going really well.

“Either way,” he says thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like you can control your technique. Usually a person’s technique manifests when they’re a kid, but you seem to be a special case… in fact, I bet your technique activated for the very first time tonight— probably under some pretty extreme circumstances, too.”

“...dying counts as an ‘extreme circumstance,’ right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Or legitimately thinking that you’re gonna die, but it seems like your body has been unconsciously activating your technique as a sort of defense mechanism. Which is why you’re trapped.”

“So, if I could control it I’d be able to make it out of this time loop.”

“Yeah, but in this case it probably wouldn’t end very well for you,” he points out with a chuckle. “It’s not like you actually want to die, right? I mean, if you did, then your technique wouldn’t even activate in the first place.”

You don’t; what you want is for this night to finally end. To be free from the endless cycle of dying over and over again and again. You don’t think death is quite the answer; even if you were to learn how to control this supposed technique of yours, there’s no guarantee that you would just unconsciously activate it when the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. No, the answer is…

“Anyway!” Gojo’s cheery voice cuts through your thoughts. “I highly doubt that you’re the type that makes a habit of jumping off ledges for the funsies, so the fact that you’ve been dying tells me that some pretty gruesome stuff is about to go down, so, tell me what happens tonight.”

The sudden drop of his voice sends a shiver running down your spine. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve seen how serious Gojo can get, the sudden shift in demeanor would probably freak you out a bit, but it doesn’t. This is the Satoru Gojo you’re familiar with.

You do have one concern though. “That… won’t create a time paradox or anything, will it?”

“Nah,” Gojo shrugs. “You wouldn’t cause one with the way your technique works, besides, if you’ve only been going back at most an hour or two in time it’s hard to believe you’d be making a really big impact… unless you really believe in the butterfly effect.”

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds strange. Gentle. Kind. It's the most soothing thing you've heard in a long time and it makes you want to believe him.

“...okay.”

Anxiety is still gripping at you, but you try to dispel it, taking a deep breath before beginning your explanation. For the sake of brevity, it’s probably best that you’re as concise as possible. There isn’t much need to really get into the nitty gritty of things unless he asks specifically.

Naturally, you begin with his arrival onto the platform and how soon after a fight breaks out and how the crowd is unfortunate enough to be involved. Gojo’s expression is passive for the most part, but he does crack the faintest hint of a smile when you mention how he manages to eviscerate one of the monsters.

It disappears once you tell him about the arrival of the train. Between the dozens upon dozens of people being dropped onto the platform by those two high school girls and the hoard of monsters disembarking from the train, everything devolves into pandemonium.

“Wait,” Gojo holds a hand up and you pause. This is his first interruption since you started recounting the night’s events for him. “Everyone is able to see the monsters?”

You stare at him. What a weird question. “...yeah?”

His mouth twists and it looks like he’s thinking about something. You can’t even begin to imagine what. Finally, he comments, “Makes sense.”

It does not, but you don’t ask him to elaborate. Surely if it was important he would have just done so.

“Anyway, in the middle of all that, you… you do something.” Your brows bunch together as you remember the stance Gojo took, the crazed and desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of your head about to explode. “I don’t know how to describe it. At first, it would just force me to… activate my technique, I guess. But now, it just knocks me out for a few minutes.”

Gojo frowns and he rubs at his chin, obviously thinking about what you’ve said. Eventually, he raises a hand and bends his fingers into a familiar gesture. It’s the one that preludes whatever he does on the platform. “Do I do this?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

You wait to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. Great. Even if he doesn’t think you need to know, it certainly would be nice to. It’s annoying otherwise, but you ignore the feeling and continue. “I can’t tell you what happens when I’m knocked out, but when I come to everyone is basically a zombie and all the monsters from the train are gone. I think you kill them.”

“I probably do,” he says casually. “But what about Volcano Head?”

“...you don't…get a chance to kill him,” you say slowly. Gojo tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate, but you hesitate. You have to tell him, you know you do, but…

You have seen the interaction so many times and though you don't know the exact nature of the relationship between them, you can tell that seeing Suguru Geto (or rather seeing his body) shook Satoru Gojo to his very core.

There's no doubt in your mind that he will not take this news well.

“Come on now,” Gojo's tone is light-hearted, unaware. “Don't keep me in suspense here.”

It's as if you're withholding the punchline to a joke. In a way, you suppose you are, but you don't think he's going to find it funny.

You take a deep breath. You need to tell him. The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn't believe you, but if that's the case… you'll probably just end up repeating this all again until you find a loop where he does.

Having made it this far, you'd like to avoid all that.

“Before you can get Volcano Head you get restrained by something called the prison realm,” you say slowly, “by someone calling themselves… Suguru Geto.”

The second the name leaves your mouth, there is a clear and obvious shift in the air. Gone is Gojo’s laid-back and frivolous demeanor, replaced with something more somber and almost frightening. The tension grows more and more palpable to the point that you think it might almost choke you.

You almost wish that it would.

“You can’t be serious,” Gojo finally says, once your words have fully sunk in.

“I—” You start to speak, but come to an abrupt stop when you see him shove his hand into his pocket to yank out his phone of all things.

The both of you know full well that there’s no reception here, but you don’t think that he’s planning on making any calls. Gojo scrolls and scrolls on his phone before he stops and shoves the screen in your face. It shows a picture of three people— a teenage girl with a cigarette in her mouth, a younger, happier version of Gojo sporting a pair of round sunglasses and—

“When you say ‘Geto’ is this who you’re referring to?” Gojo demands, using his other hand to point at the third person in the frame— a handsome young man with long dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“Yes, but—”

“That’s impossible. It can’t be him,” Gojo interrupts, his voice firm, cold even. “He’s dead.”

There’s a note of finality in his words that is definitely meant to leave no room for argument. It doesn’t stop you, though. Instead, you glare at Gojo’s stupid blindfold and say, “...being dead doesn’t mean a damn thing! I’ve died hundreds of times and yet I’m still fucking here, but—”

“Your situation is different,” he interjects, the temperature of his tone hiking up, his words like heated hissing. “I killed him almost a year ago. There's no way—”

“You didn't get rid of the body properly!” You cut him off, raising your voice in hopes that he'll take even just a second to stop and listen. It seems to work and you add something you remember ‘Geto’ saying. “You should have had Shoko Ieiri get rid of it, but you didn’t and now some… some kind of gross brain thing is possessing the corpse!”

The air between you both is silent as the grave. Though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. He’s definitely having second thoughts about everything you’ve said so far. There’s a chance he might even think you’re his enemy now. You stare him down though, refusing to look away. You’ve made it this far, you can’t— you won’t back down.

“...you’re not lying, are you.” Gojo’s words are more of a statement than a question. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows the answer, and yet he’s still asking. You wonder if maybe he’s clinging onto some vain hope that maybe, just maybe this all a sick, cruel joke that’s gone way too far.

“I’m not.”

Gojo holds your gaze for a second longer before he lets out a curse. “Fuck!”

“...I’m sorry,” you say quietly, mostly because it feels like the most correct thing to say at this moment. You don’t know the whole story, but it seems like they were close. If so, then it must have hurt Gojo a lot to have killed him, and must hurt even more to know that someone is desecrating the body. You hate that you, a complete and utter stranger, happened to be the person to tell him, but…

It had to be done, for the sake of getting past this unending night, it had to be done.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged sigh. “Okay. What happens after that?”

You give him a rundown of what follows; he gets sealed, the monsters wake up and all but ‘Geto’ leave in search of their next target. When you mention the high school girls demanding the brain give Geto’s body back, Gojo snorts loudly.

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

You nod in agreement. It was clear to you that the brain parasite has no intent on giving it up any time soon. “After they leave, he… talks to me.”

“Probably couldn't ignore all that cursed energy you have,” Gojo remarks offhandedly.

You stare at him, expression twisted in a way that shows that you have absolutely no clue what that means. It should be fine for you to ask this one question; it actually concerns you after all. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, though… probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”

You give him a pointed glare and all Gojo does is laugh.

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“...Like in a video game?”

“Exactly!” Then, Gojo tilts his head, clearly thinking. You don't bother asking; you don't feel like he'll explain.

“He does ask me if I'm a sorcerer, whatever that is. Is that why?”

“Probably. Ordinary people don't have even a fraction of the energy you're packing.”

‘Ordinary people’ he says as if you’re not an ordinary person who got caught up in all this supernatural sorcery bullshit. Or at least you were, but if the time loops are really a product of your own doing…

“Does he kill you when you answer?” Gojo asks to get the conversation back on track.

“Not right away. What happens next kind of varies,” you answer. “He usually lets me have a question or two before he kills me; I've asked him a couple different things.”

“Really taking advantage, aren’t you?” Gojo says and you're not sure what to make of his tone. Is he mocking you or is he easing back into that laid-back persona of his?

“If I’m doomed to repeat the same situation over and over, I might as well make the most of it,” you respond flatly.

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

He’s definitely gone back to acting almost completely unserious— all signs of his earlier agitation are nearly gone.

“So what did you learn?”

“Well, the prison realm only holds one occupant. Once they’re sealed, time stops for them and the only way out is if the bearer unseals them or if they choose to kill themselves.”

“I see… And what about our body jacker?”

“He didn’t go into detail but he said something about… striving toward the evolution of mankind?” You frown a little at the memory. He didn’t explain further because he said that you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh. Interesting. Wonder how he was gonna go about doing that.”

“I don't know, but I can't imagine you'd like it since he goes out of his way to seal you into that box,” you say. “Said you’d get in the way because you’re too strong.”

Gojo shrugs his shoulders and grins a little. Cocky. “Well, I am the strongest sorcerer around, you know.”

You would think him overconfident if you hadn't seen the magnitude of his strength first hand.

“Anyway, that's as far as I ever go. When he's decided he’s done talking to me, he kills me and I loop back.”

“So, in short, what you want help with is getting past that point, right?”

“More or less.”

“And all I have to do is avoid getting caught by the prison realm?”

You nod.

“What’s it look like?” he asks. “A big cage with a bunch of metal bars?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t woken up early enough to see it before it traps him, but you can’t imagine it looks that much different. “No.. It’s a small box with eyes… It gets big enough to fit you in it, though.”

“Huh.” He stretches his arms out above his head as if he’s trying to emphasize how large he actually is and shoots you a grin. “Should be easy enough then. I bet our body snatcher used the shock of seeing Suguru to trap me but since I'll see it coming, avoiding it'll be a piece of cake.”

Gojo makes it sound so easy, and maybe it really is as simple as that, but you can't help but be worried still.

“Don't tell me you don't think I can do it,” he says, tilting his head.

“It's not that,” you admit. “I'm just concerned I might die before we can get to that point.”

Truthfully, since you know that will just result in another loop you're less concerned with dying itself and more worried about losing the progress you've made in convincing Gojo to help you. Even though it's been clearly proven you can loop him as well, there's no guarantee you'll be able to make the physical contact needed to do it upon death.

“You've made it pretty far on your own, though, right?”

“Yeah, but… I’ve messed up plenty of times.” More than you can even count. “There's also the possibility that taking the time to talk to you might have thrown things out of whack.”

Speaking of time, you check your phone. It's 8:39PM. You curse.

Gojo leans over to check your phone. “Let me guess, I'm supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, this is when you’re descending down onto the platform.”

“You know where I am down to the exact minute?” He asks and you tilt your head back and forth a little. It’s not exact per se, but it’s close enough. Gojo chuckles a little. “Man, I didn’t realize that you were actually that into me.”

That earns Gojo a glare from you, but he just laughs it off. “I doubt being a few minutes late is going to make a big difference.”

You certainly hope so.

“Don't worry,” Gojo says and you notice he's using that tone from earlier. “You won't die.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he uses such a reassuring sounding voice and yet, you still open your mouth to try— to voice your doubts, but what he says next silences you before you even can.

“I'll protect you.”

You think your heart stops beating in your chest and your words dissolve in your throat.

He grins at you. “Did you fall in love with me just now?”

That catches you a little off guard. You're willing to admit he's hot, but surely he must be joking. “How could you even think of something like that at a time like this?”

Gojo laughs again. “Well, since someone is so worried about their time table being all messed up, I better head down there; can’t keep Volcano Head and friends waiting, right?”

You blink. Is that it? “Wait, shouldn’t we make a plan or something?”

“Isn’t the plan for me to not get caught in the prison realm?”

Yes, but… “But what about me? Is there anything I can do?”

Gojo stares at you, or at least you think he does. “...I don’t know, is there?”

You’ve seen the encounter between Satoru Gojo and those monsters so many times and you try to picture a version of it where you intervene and… all you can see is yourself getting in his way. You’re no fighter, no… sorcerer, or whatever he is, you’re just some ordinary person that was unfortunate enough to get all caught up in this mess. The most you can probably do is kick the prison realm out of the way when the time comes, but otherwise… “...no, I guess not.”

His expression turns sympathetic. “You’ve done plenty by telling me everything that happens. So just wait up here, and let me handle the monsters.”

You almost nod. Almost. But then you remember what transpires up here above the platform. You know it sounds safer up here where you’re less likely to get involved in the carnage, but… “Wait, no, if I stay up here then I’ll fall to my death when those girls—”

Gojo laughs, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

“I…” It’s hard to. After everything you’ve gone through it’s hard to trust in anything, to believe in anything. Even though you’ve made it this far this time, the worry that something will go wrong and that you’ll have to do it all again still lurks in the back of your mind.

Despite all that, you want to believe.

You want to believe that you can make it past this unending night, that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll no longer be October 31, 2018. And the first step towards that is trusting in Satoru Gojo.

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Gojo chuckles then asks, “Anything else before I head off?”

You start to ask if there’s anything you should say, in case things don’t work out, but you stop yourself. You’re choosing to trust him, to believe in him— you can figure out that stuff later if things end up going south after all. So, instead you give him a smile and it feels a little weird because you don’t remember the last time you did. “Good luck!”

For a split second, Gojo looks almost surprised, but then he laughs again, beaming widely at you. He starts to move past you and reaches out to give you what you think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and then he’s off. You turn to watch him go, the crowd, once again, parting almost naturally for him.

When he reaches the barricade, he pauses, raising his hand as if he’s giving you one last wave. Then he jumps over it onto his little perch and then less than a minute later he’s gone, descending to the platform below.

Now, all you can do is wait.

You check your phone again and it’s 8:44PM. If you remember correctly, the high school girls start threatening everyone right before 9PM. With Gojo’s arrival being shifted back almost five minutes, does that mean that they’ll be shifted back too? It would make sense, but you’re not too sure.

Out of habit, you keep checking your phone and at nearly 9PM, you hear the shrill voice of one of the girls over the crowd, commanding everyone to do what she says, her partner stringing up bodies until everyone listens. Everything plays out just as you remember it, which is mildly comforting, though you know that the events that happen up here are more or less independent from what happens below.

Surely, just as Gojo said, a few minutes aren’t going to change anything, but—

No.

You agreed to trust him. To trust that everything would be fine.

When the girls start to demand that as many people as possible climb onto the roots and vines covering the atrium your heart starts to hammer in your chest. In just a few minutes, all the foliage will disintegrate beneath you, and you and everyone else here will fall into the abyss below.

You are afraid.

There isn’t a single loop where you’ve really survived this fall. If you don’t die in midair, you die right after landing. It’s a death trap, and that’s why you’ve stopped coming up here. There’s a part of you, the part that knows what’s about to happen, that wants to try and run back onto stable footing. But you can’t, because you know if you do then the girls will kill you for sure; you have to stay.

It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll be okay.

You just have to trust Gojo.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You hear the announcement faintly below you. It’s almost time. You brace yourself and try to stay calm. Gojo said he would protect you, that you wouldn’t die. You don’t know how he intends to keep that promise, but all you can do is believe in his words.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

The vines and roots start to crack and the ground beneath you starts to give out. You squeeze your eyes shut as that sickening weightless feeling overtakes you. It occurs to you that this is actually quite literally a trust fall— will Satoru Gojo really be able to catch you?

As you fall, you realize almost instantly that something is different.

You’ve experienced this fall dozens of times and so, even though it has been a while since you’ve gone this route, you are very familiar with what it feels like. Something is different. You’re falling faster. The trajectory is changing. It’s like some force, other than gravity, is pulling at you.

Is this Gojo’s doing?

Just as your body collides with the ground you hear the sounds of mutilating flesh meld with the screams surrounding you. Blood and severed limbs litter the ground, but you try to ignore it. You need to focus on your own survival right now. Quickly, you scramble to your feet scan the area around you; you’re on the platform right now and right in front of you is—

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

His back is turned to you, his focus currently elsewhere. Looking at him you realize you recognize this scene, though it’s much closer and at a different angle. He’s about to do that thing, that thing that knocks you out.

Something in you tells you to move closer to him, after all, he used his mysterious powers to deliberately bring you closer to him, right? You rush toward him and as you do something he said earlier pops up in your mind.

Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!

Whatever he’s about to do… Is that his ‘technique?’ And if it is, would it work the same way as yours? If so, there’s only one way to find out: you need to touch him. You dodge monsters and other people as you run toward Satoru Gojo and—

A monster still manages to grab you, its large hands wrapping around your wrist. You try and yank it free, but it's much stronger than you are.

“Shit!” you hiss as the monster starts to pull you toward it and away from Gojo. What do you do? Your other hand is still free, should you try to punch it in the face? Or—

Before you can do anything, something blasts the monster’s head clean off. Shocked, you stare as the monster’s body slumps onto the ground, its grip loosening on you instantly. You whip your head around to find that while Gojo still has his back to you, his arm is bent back in your direction, his palm open as if he fired some invisible blast from it.

Then you feel it again, something pulling at you, but this time it's more forceful. Your body is yanked toward Gojo and the second you feel his hand press against you, you see him make that gesture with his other hand.

“Domain Expansion,” he whispers in a strained voice. “Infinite Void!”

Something happens and your vision flashes for a fraction of a second. And then—

The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness; all the violence and bloodshed coming to an abrupt stop. Monsters and humans alike stand like the living dead, unconscious with their eyes wide open as if they are staring into an infinite abyss. You recognize this scene, you’re familiar with it because it’s similar to the one you wake up to after being hit by Gojo’s ‘domain expansion.’ The only difference is the presence of the monsters, who are all but gone when you regain consciousness.

The pressure from Gojo’s hand is gone and he says to you, his voice still low. “If you’re squeamish when it comes to blood and gore, it might be best for you to close your eyes.”

And then he’s gone.

You do not take his advice. You do not close your eyes. How many loops were you unable to witness what’s about to unfold? A few hundred? A few thousand? And if all goes to plan, then you will never get another chance again: there’s no way you could possibly look away.

And what you see unfold before you is that Satoru Gojo was right.

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

It’s not as if you really had any doubt, after all, it seemed like the most logical conclusion to come to and yet…

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

All the violence resumes and the platform is engulfed in the sounds of carnage and slaughter once more. The lack of terrified screams makes everything more disconcerting— without them, all you can hear is the squelching echo of mangled flesh and blood splattering all over the place. You can’t really see him, but you can tell where Satoru Gojo is in the crowd as he leaves dozens upon dozens of decapitated heads soaring in his wake. Once or twice, he leaps out of the crowd and even from where you stand you can see the crazed glow of his inhumanly blue eyes as he massacres monster after monster.

Even though you don’t think you have anything to be scared of, you are still terrified: Satoru Gojo is no longer a man, but violence incarnate. You want to move closer to where Gojo gets trapped, but you’re afraid to. What if you get in his way? What if he kills you by accident?

Dying again when you’ve made it this far is definitely not ideal, but isn’t being killed by Gojo the best case scenario? Because then the two of you would probably loop together again and—

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

It’s hard to believe when he’s in the middle of a massacre, slaughtering monsters left and right, but you remind yourself yet again that you have to believe in him.

You take a deep breath and start moving, taking care to keep an eye on where Gojo is. You don’t know how long this is supposed to take, but you do know where he ends up when he’s just about done. The closer he gets to that spot, the sooner the prison realm will be unleashed upon him.

There’s a small group of zombified people nearby and you settle yourself among them. It’s not super close, but you think it's close enough that you'd be able to run over and kick the box away from Gojo if you have to. You do a quick survey to see if you can spot the body snatcher, but he's nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed you moving around, or, if he has, he's more concerned with Gojo than he is with you. Given that you always seem to be the last thing he acknowledges, you'd like to think that he doesn't consider you a threat.

Which you're not, not really anyway.

The sounds of slaughter start to die down and you look to see Gojo approaching the spot where he gets caught. He looks beat, his eyes unfocused and his breathing heavy. You do another quick scan around him and notice a small box a few meters away from him, wrapped in what looks like paper charms or seals or whatever they're called. That has to be the prison realm— though it looks different than what you saw before. Gojo seems to notice it right after you do, his gaze honing in on it, examining it with some measure of bewilderment. Then, some invisible force slices through all the paper seals covering the box and it expands, the corners of the box floating up in midair to reveal what looks like a large sheet of dark red flesh with a large bloodshot eye stapled to the middle.

Disgusting.

If Gojo didn’t realize before, he seems to now, because he takes a step back, away from the grotesque thing. Good, good—

“Hey! Satoru!” Your blood runs cold at the sound of the body snatcher’s voice. He emerges from the crowd, smiling widely as he gives Gojo a wave. “Long time no see!”

Satoru Gojo’s entire body goes rigid. Shit. You told him, you warned him about what was going to happen, who he was going to see, but was that not enough? It’s possible that no amount of warning would have been enough to mentally prepare Satoru Gojo for the sight of the man he said he killed a year ago. After all, you know that there’s a stark difference between knowing and seeing. Even then, if Gojo doesn’t gather his wits and move now then he’s going to get caught and you can’t let that happen.

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

You scramble out from your hiding spot in the crowd and throw yourself in between Satoru Gojo and the prison realm. There’s no way you can kick it away from him now, not when it’s in this form, but maybe, if you get between them you can at least keep it from capturing him.

The eye quivers erratically, as it flits from Gojo to you. Every hair on your body stands on end as it watches you, the pupil dilating and contracting uncontrollably. You can’t look away from it, your own gaze fixed to your image reflected in the black abyss of the pupil. Something in the back of your mind tells you to stop, to get away, it’s dangerous, but you keep your feet firmly planted to the ground.

A second, or maybe even a minute passes and the prison realm shifts, its fleshy form morphing to restrain you.

The body jacker looks at you, his frown tinged with disgust. “Don’t you think you’re being rather rude by butting into what could have been a touching reunion?”

You scowl. Is he still trying to play the role of Suguru Geto?

He sighs and looks past you at Gojo. “Satoru, I thought bringing lesser sorcerers to fight alongside you was more trouble than it was worth?”

You hear Gojo snort from behind you, “It is… but this person here isn’t a sorcerer… Just like you aren’t Suguru Geto.”

The faker almost pouts and presses his hand to his chest as if Gojo's words have wounded him. “Satoru, I’m hurt, how could you say such a thing to your best friend?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Gojo snarls. “You can’t fucking fool me. You might be in Suguru’s body but I know with all my heart and soul that you’re not him.”

The corpse snatcher stares at Gojo, expression blank before he sighs once more. Then, his gaze shifts back to you, his eyes narrowed as he looks at you with sheer disdain. It feels as if you’ve been drenched in ice cold water. There's no smile this time but you already know what's going to happen.

He’s going to kill you.

“I intended to deal with you later since you seemed harmless enough,” he says, raising a hand to summon a monster— the same one he always uses to end your life. “But you’re in the way. So, I think it’s for the best if I just get rid of you right now.”

Instinctively, you try to take a step back but the prison realm’s restraints keep you in place. Not that it would have mattered much, even in the loops where you’ve tried to escape the faker’s monster, it still kills you, too fast and too agile for an ordinary human like you to avoid. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the monster to kill you. At least, it’s always painless.

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

Before you is the monster, wiggling and writhing only mere centimeters from your face. It gurgles and snarls at you, desperate to fulfill its master’s wishes and kill you but it doesn’t move any closer. You stare at it with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue— Gojo. You try to turn your head to look at him, but your movements are too limited, the most you can do is turn your head to the side. The sounds the monster is making start to change, sounding more frenzied, almost as if it’s in pain, and you flit your eyes in its direction just in time to see its entire body explode. The monster's guts and bright purple blood fly off in every direction, getting on the floor, the ceiling, the zombified bodies of the people unfortunate enough to be nearby, but not on you.

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

He steps in front of you, half turned towards you as he moves in between you and the body snatcher. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he loudly says, “Did you really forget about me?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the body snatcher.

Past him, the imposter scowls, raising his hand once more, probably to summon even more monsters, but Gojo’s quicker, and it almost looks like his eyes are glowing even brighter, the blue looking almost white as he whips his head in the faker’s direction. The sound of mangling flesh and breaking bones echoes throughout the room as Gojo, using that mysterious power of his, seems to break the faker’s arm.

The body snatcher hisses loudly and despite the fact that his face is twisted in very obvious pain, he tries to shoot Gojo a mocking smile. “Do you really think you can kill your best friend again?”

“I already told you,” Gojo turns to fully face the monster inhabiting Geto’s corpse. He tilts his head a little to the side and some force starts to squeeze at the faker’s neck. “You’re not Suguru.”

You hear a loud crack as Gojo telekinetically snaps his neck.

The head rolls onto the ground and you almost look away, but then you notice his eyes still moving, looking around. Is he still alive? Then you remember: the thing possessing Suguru Geto’s body was some kind of parasite. “Gojo! Wait! The brain!”

He reacts almost instantly, head turning and in an instant the skull is crushed and all that remains is red splotch on the ground.

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

Horrified, you watch as it quivers violently before falling to the ground. Then what looks like dozens of black spirits start to erupt from the corpse and the entire room is engulfed with a shrill howling.

What the hell is going on?

“Those must be all the cursed spirits he consumed,” Gojo explains uselessly, voice barely audible over the screaming. “Guess he was empty before.”

You don’t bother asking what he means. There are bigger problems right now. “What do we do?”

“No choice to exorcise them,” he answers plainly.

For him to exorcise them, he means. You both know that there’s not much that you can do. You still can’t move and honestly, you don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the prison realm’s restraints. Not without dying. And if you die now…

Everything will have been for naught.

You’ll reset time and have to do this all over again— assuming you can even get to this point again.

There has to be something, you just have to think outside the box.

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

“You need to seal me in the prison realm!” you exclaim. He turns to face you fully, looking bewildered and you start to explain as fast as you can. “Those things are going to attack any minute right? I can’t move or try to hide and I can’t expect you to protect me the entire time and if I die then I’ll end up looping time again, but— but, if you seal me in the prison realm then that won’t happen.”

Gojo frowns, looking conflicted. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Wouldn't it be easier if you didn’t have to?”

He tilts head and you think he’s conceding your point.

“Please,” you beg, staring at him desperately. “We don’t have much time. The other… cursed spirits will wake up soon too!”

You don’t have to explain that you mean Volcano Head and friends.

It takes only a second for Gojo to consider the very few options you have. “...how do you seal it? Do you know?”

“I think so,” you answer. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work but I think that if you say ‘prison realm, gate close’ it should seal me inside.”

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

Gojo nods. “Do you know how to break the seal?”

“I… don’t,” you confess. You never asked, and you don’t think the body snatcher would have told you even if you did. He only told you that it holds one and that…

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

“...you don’t have to break the seal.”

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

“Even if I make it past tonight… What if this all happens again? What if I inadvertently trap myself in another time loop?” you ask. “I… I don’t want to have to go through all of this again. It’s better for me in a place where time doesn’t pass.”

You don’t know for sure if it’ll be better, but right here, right now, it seems like the best option.

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

“...fine,” he agrees and you don’t quite know how to feel about it. The howling around you all grows louder. You wonder why the cursed spirits haven’t attacked yet. Maybe Gojo’s power is holding them at bay… for now anyway. You both know that he can’t ignore them forever.

“...before I do, though, mind if I ask you just one thing?”

You blink. “Not sure what I can do for you in this state…”

He laughs. “I just want to know your name.”

What an odd request. Though, now that you think about it, you don’t think that during this loop or any other loop really, you’ve ever told him your name. It only seems fair to tell him, since you’ve known his for longer than he’s known of your existence.

You tell him your name.

He nods, looking as if he’s committing to memory. Probably easier to remember than his phone number. “Any last words?”

You try to think of something. Nothing comes to mind and you just shake your head.

Gojo takes a deep breath, “Alrighty then… Prison realm, gate close.”

Just as it did the many times you’ve seen Satoru Gojo sealed away, the boxes and restraints around you vibrate a little before they start to close around you, growing large enough to fit your body as they approach.

You won’t see it, but once you’re inside the box will shrink and become small enough to fit in the palm of someone’s hand.

Will it be quiet inside?

In your final seconds, some words, some last words come to mind, and you say them, hoping that he hears them in time. “Thank you, Satoru Gojo.”

You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

It’s November 30, 2018— morning on the campus of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

Satoru Gojo strides through the school grounds, casually tossing a small silver box with eerie blue eyes known as the prison realm up and down in his grasp. Walking at his side is Shoko Ieiri, a pretty woman who’s been unfortunate enough to have been Satoru’s friend since high school.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shoko asks, twirling a few strands of her long brown hair.

“What do you mean?” Satoru responds nonchalantly. “All my ideas are good ideas.”

Shoko hums in clear dissent, but doesn’t say anything more. Even she knows better than to try and waste her time trying to argue with Satoru. “I’m just worried about their mental state. Didn’t you say that time doesn’t flow in the box?”

“I’d be worried if it was some normal person,” Satoru says. “But after what they’ve gone through I think they’ll be fine.”

“...well, if you say so.”

The two arrive at their destination: the largest training area on the Jujutsu High grounds. Satoru places the prison realm at the center and takes a few steps back with Shoko standing behind him, in case anything happens.

He doesn’t think it will, but it’s always good to take at least a few precautions.

“Gojo, are you sure we should be doing this?” Shoko asks again. “Didn’t they want to remain in the box?”

“Of course I am,” Satoru says with his usual air of confidence before looking back at the prison realm nestled in the grass. He grins and then—

“Prison realm, gate open.”

if you made it this far. thank you. it's my sincerest hope that you enjoyed the ride.

[estrellazzz]

Watched a podcast that noted that cram/p twi/ns was made pre 9/11, which is why the odd social commentary sandwiched in between all the senseless toilet humor makes the cartoon seem so very jarring now

[soigneetcharmant]

this bus ride is making me cidal.