#nanami i know you are dying to get to him and give him your present AHAHAH

[c0ffeejelly1]

When you don’t say I love you back.

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: this is not spelling checked, grammar checked, punctuation checked so don’t come at me. I’m lazy.

Warnings: NSFW Content (kinda)

“Shit..babe!” He boomed to you across from the empty kitchen cabinet, before closing it to quickly put on some slides.

“I’ve gotta head out to the shop down the road for a quick minute, we’re outta snacks to eat with the movie.”

“Oh okay, see you later then, and don’t worry I won’t start the film without you..”

“You better not. Anyways bye, I love you.”

“Yeah.”

The type to walk back in and question it

He didn’t notice that you didn’t reply to him until he had closed the door behind him. That’s when it came to him.

Immediately after the door shut, he ripped it wide open again a confused and offended look on his face, as he stared down at you on the couch. “Babe.”

You turned to face him, an innocent expression painting your features. “Yeah? You forget something?”

“I think you’re the one forgetting something..” You glance around faking a puzzled look before returning your gaze to him,

“No...I don’t think I did. What are you talking about?” He was now crossing his arms at you, a disappointed look on his face.

“Y/N.” Yikes, he’s going first name bases with you; he was not playing around. It was a little funny to watch him react like this though, because you could see the small pout on his face despite the scowl he was presenting to you.

“Yes handsome?” You say mockingly wanting to see how far you could take this.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Say what back?”

“y’know what I’m talking about.“

“Do I?”

“…”

You better kiss him now that you’ve made him sad.

Characters: MIDORIMA, kagami, giyuu, jean, kageyama, TSUKISHIMA, osamu, Ushijima, NANAMI, geto, LUCIFER, diavolo, todoroki, Iida. (Anyone you like)

The type to not process it until AFTER they’ve bought the snacks

It was while he was tapping his card to the register that he himself also registered-

“Wait a damn minute.”

He’s rushing his ass back home, the distant yell that he dropped his snacks, left unheard from the poor cashier.

When he arrives home though..

“So..” he starts, falling back onto the couch with you. “You know you're the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met right?” He tries buttering you up a bit in hopes it’ll get you in a ‘good mood’.

“You’re just so SO beautiful, that every time I look at you there are only hearts in my eyes..y’know that right? Right baby?..” you only nod your head trying to stop the smile forming on your face.

“I just.. love you so much y’know?”

“Thank you.”

“Baby, I love you.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I. Love. You.”

“Why do you keep repeating that?”

“You’re gonna make me cry.”

You say it back to him once he starts tickling the hell outta you.

Characters: dimple, REIGEN, KISE, rengoku, connie, armin, NISHINOYA, HINATA, OIKAWA, choso, gojo, MAMMON, DENKI. (Anyone you like)

The type to give you a dirty look and repeat it again LOUDER.

“..bitch.”

“Are you not gonna say it back?” Is what he would say to you, but instead he only resorted to giving you a not so…pretty look.

You knew damn well what you were doing. He’s no fool to you and your pranks, but that still didn’t explain the reason why he continued trying to make you say it back.

“Let’s try this again.”

“…” You give him a neutral look, a small smile dying to crack onto your lips.

“Bye, I LOVE you.” He tried emphasising the love part making sure you would get the hint of what he was waiting on.

“Mhm..yeah, now go buy the snacks I’m hungry.” Are you trying to get yourself killed? This is not the type of guy you should be fooling around with this kinda stuff.

“I’m not going anymore” he walks away from the door before striding over to you.

“What? Why? H-hey! What are you doin-” he grips onto your waist before hosting you onto his shoulder.

“Gotta find out why my girls being so stubborn, so what better way than..”

That’s how you ended up here, hands tied behind your back, and a blindfold on, all your senses focused on only him and the distant sound of the TV.

Every time he would say he loved you, If you didn’t reply back to him fast enough the restraints would stay on for an extra minute while he went ahead and watched the movie without you.

“I love you.” Jesus, you could practically feel the devious smirk he had on his face.

“I. Love. You. Too.” You reply with a small hiss through clenched teeth. He only chuckled at your tone giving you a slight pat on your head. “Bet you won’t try this again huh?”

He’s sleeping on the couch.

Characters: AOMINE, SANEMI, eren, UKAI, IWAIZUMI, tendou, ATSUMU, toji, satan, solomon, bakugou. (Anyone you like)

The type to immediately start apologising for no reason

“I’m sorry baby, I’ll never do it again.”

He doesn’t even open the door before he’s on his knees looking up at you for some hint that you weren’t angry at him. “Please say something..”

The reason you obviously couldn’t say anything at that moment was because you just didn’t expect him to go down on his knees and beg for forgiveness for who knows what-

“Look I know this must be about eating the takeout and only leaving the empty bowl behind to make it look as though I didn’t- and this obviously must also be about me stealing your shirt and accidentally using it as a washcloth- or maybe it’s the underwe-”

“OKAY!” You yell putting both your hands in front of his face rendering him confused, “I-I get it! Okay..”

he only cocks his head to the side moments before his face drops when you tell him it was a prank.

“Oh..it is?..”

“Yeah…”

“So you still love me?”

“Very much.”

…

“..wait- what did you do with my underwear?”

He’s gone silent.

He’s getting up.

He’s walking away.

He’s running now.

“Wha- Hey! Come back here!”

“Gotta buy the snacks now, bye!”

This man is NOT as innocent as he looks.

Characters: serizawa, tengen, REINER, kuroo, BOKUTO, LEVIATHAN, Asmodeus. (Anyone you like)

[jin-jamm-desu]

*°•_:JJK Headcanons:_•°*

;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;_;

!!!Fluff, ❌🍋(no smut)!!!

Featuring/Pairing: Itadori Yuji, Fushiguro Megumi, Kento Nanami, Inumaki Toge

(These are the (some) main people I absolutely know how to write for,

please give me ideas if you don't see someone/thing you'd like to see. <3)

*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::* °×•×°×•×°×•×°First Date°×•×°×•×°×•×°

Itadori Yuji: ° Your first date and 1 month' aversarry (1 month' anniversary) is gonna take place at a cat/pet cafe.

° No exeptions

° Itadori is gonna have a ball with you regardless of where your first date is, but he know how much you like cats/(other animals).

° All of his attention is on you as you take pictures of the animals and eat the cute food.

° He can barely take his eyes off of you <3

° He fell first and fell harder.

° He is the type of guy to bring you a bunch of unnecessary gifts (like Gojo) at random times

° Except his gifts are cuter and personalized (unlike Gojo)

° Love language is definitely Acts of Service and Quality Time

° He just loves seeing you happy and safe and that's all that really matters to him at this point.

° Honest to God, brags about how cute you are to anybody who'd listen: his friends, his teachers, your pets, somebody's child, random pictures YOU NAME IT

° Takes you to the movies afterwards (he looked for good movies with the help of Junpei (😭💕))

° Somehow ate 3 (full size) plates of food at the cafe before you had to ask him, "HOW DID YOU EAT ALL THAT? ARE YOU OJAY??? YUJI ITS BEEN 15 MINUTES SINCE WE SAT DOWNNN!!??!??!!"

° Gives you a soft kiss on the hand and then cheek once you get home

° Your name is filled with hearts and stars on his contacts bc it's cute

Fushiguro Megumi:

° He didn't know how much was too much so he took you for a cute park-picnic date

° He makes sure to bring lots of water and fresh fruit because its midday.

° He also brought (favorite cake flavor) to share <3

° Likes to look at all the dogs he sees and tell you everything he knows about them

° He blushes so hard when you compliment/flirt with him (if you dyed his hair he'd look like a damn tomato)

° (my headcanon) He talks about how he'd like to be a veterinarian when he gets older because he doesn't want animals to live the same life he lived at one point

° His point blank resting glare scares off anyone who tries to talk to the both of you

° Keeps getting the sneaking suspicion that Itadori, Nobara and Gojo are talking about him (he got really irritated at one point, that's how he knows)

° Has the cutest giggles when a bee lands near your nose

° Brings butterfly/dinosaur charms for you because he thinks you look cute when you talk about them.

° Leaves the picnic area better than he found it because he's just responsible like that

° Takes you too a pretty garden area where he gifts you (favorite flower)

° Kisses your hand goodbye (I faint)

° Told his classmates and teacher that the date was nice and nothing else (💀)

° Your contact has a picture he secretly took of you and thought was cute

Kento Nanami

° The epitome of class

° I swear he just keeps raising the damn bar

° Picks you up in the late afternoon/ evening

° Dinner at a nice restaurant (I think it's French/Louisianan cuisine)

° He bought a present for you because he saw it on the way to his car to pick you up

° A nice walk to set up for a good conversation

° He made sure that everything was so perfect, found a great path (walkable in flats/heels) that you can see the stars when you look up

° Calls you - My Lady - (see that capitalization?)

° Wanted to bust out in his singing voice when he heard MCR playing from somewhere (he's a diehard fan at heart and we all know it)

° Very excited to tell you about how much he likes bread (he prefers fresh made over store bought and loves to laugh at the silly designs on his sourdough)

° Almost choked on his spit when he thought he saw Satoru somewhere but it turned out to be flowers or sum.

° It was Satoru, he wanted to be a nosy bat and see what Nanami was doing since the couldn't annoy him today

° Very attentive to little details when you describe things things you (dis)like so he can be ready for future dates

° In his bag he definitely has chapstick, a notepad (he's so orderly), some mints and he made sure to pack a pair of slippers for you just in case your feet hurt at any point

° He's such a gentleman and he's so nice and respectful to the servers during dinner

° Makes sure to walk you to your door once he gets you home safely

° Puts a 💕 next to your name in his contacts.

° (Gojo is called 'The Annoying One 🤞😒' in his contacts, the only other one with emojis)

Inumaki Toge

° This chronically online ass mfker.

° He challenged you to a Fortnite battle

° It's a gaming date.

° So much mogging. You hit him with a 🗿🔥🐺 and he got quiet

° SALMONNN!!! 😭😭🙏

° POLLACK ROE 😤😡😤😤

° Rice 💕🥰😚😍

° MUSTARD LEAF¿¿‽‽!!¿??

° Then Super Smash Bros™

° Soon y'all we're laughing your asses off at the villager prisons on your newly created Minecraft server.

° The unhealthiest amount of junk food known to man kind

° I'm convinced he consumes Redbull and gummy bears like water and air.

° When a creep kept pressing you on the internet he took over as your big strong man (he's shorter than 5'9, I checked 💀😭)

° Legit kept calling himself The Skibidi Alpha Pack Leader™ and how much he want (the creep) to join his gang of Loners™

° Uses (🗿🙏🗣️🗿🌶️💬🥇📢🩼🎯🍃🐺🌘) religiously and unironically

° In all seriousness he does love you though. He's so glad he has someone he can laugh with and talk to (using text to speech- ofc it's set to Gigachad Voice)

° Absolutely the best at lifting you up when your sad because you humor has been marinated in the TikTok algorithm and is peak

° When he calls he uses facetime so you can see his reactions and his eyelashes that are always on fleek

° He passes little notes to you when he can't express his words through ingredients: "Your laugh is pretty <3",,, "That (game)skin is so cute, it goes well with your weapon",,, "Thank you for coming out with me, I like you a lot<333"

° Afterwards he gifts you little trinkets from when we was at the mall one time.

וװDid you like it?°×•× וװGot requests/recommendations?°×•×

*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*::*

[bratbby333]

the jjk men + ur birthday

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blurb/brain dump

fluff version/sfw,, smutty version coming next

feat: gojo, geto, nanami, megumi, toji, yuuji

author notes: this idea 100% came abt bc my birthday’s in two weeks n i can’t help but gift this to myself

-gojo

Satoru is 1000% the type to over do it in the most endearing way possible. The celebration of you starts a week before your actual birthday. Stuffies, balloons, cupcakes, a lengthy, heartfelt card spilling his guts to you about how much you’ve changed his life. He’s even the type to book an expensive getaway for just the two of you after throwing you a surprise dinner party with all your friends.

“Your bags already packed. We leave for the airport in an hour” he says, brimming with joy.

He teases you about getting older, and you joyfully get to remind him that at least you’re still younger than him ((he pouts and huffs at this, of course)).

-geto

A deeply romantic man. Showering you in kind words and lingering touches of affection.

Suguru’s deeply intuitive and is most definitely the type of boyfriend to gather things you say you like throughout the year and secretly compile them in a basket to present to you on your birthday. He’s so sneaky with it that you have no idea it’s coming even though you two live together (where tf did he hide it??).

He’s so thoughtful and giving, it’s no surprise that he treats you extra special on your birthday. A bouquet of your favorite flowers, a reservation at your favorite restaurant, tickets to a movie you’ve been dying to see, walks in the park (stopping at your favorite café on the way there). He is just so deeply enamored by you and wants nothing more than to see your face light up when doing the things you love.

-nanami

Stoic and serious Nanami worships you each and every day. You opened his heart in ways he didn’t know existed, so he can’t help but reward you any chance he gets. You didn’t think he could ever out do himself, but each time your birthday comes around you are proven wrong.

Hefty bouquets of your favorite flowers adorn your kitchen, living room, and bedroom, different handwritten cards sitting against the various flower vases. For a man of such well thought out and analytically chosen words, he sure finds as many as he can to describe to you in detail how much you mean to him and how much he loves you.

He makes reservations at your favorite restaurant and takes you shopping to find an outfit for your dinner date, amongst other things-jewelry, bags, shoes, etc. He just absolutely spoils you.

-megumi

Even after a year of being together, Megumi still struggles to put his big feelings into the right words. He’d rather show you through acts of service than to say it directly to you. And you appreciate each and every thing he does for you.

The week leading up to your birthday, he takes over all the maintenance around the house; cooking for you every night, doing all the laundry, etc.

“I don’t want you to lift a finger leading up to your special day”

He takes you to get your hair done, your nails done, shopping…any sort of self care services that you want. He just loves being around you, even if a lot of the times, he may not be able to find the right words to say (you’re the only person he enjoys being around for extended periods of time) and he wants you to feel loved and pampered and beautiful on your birthday, even more so than you already are to him.

He cherishes the way you love him, and the man you’re turning him into, even if it scares him a little.

-toji

Violently nonchalant and seemingly uninterested in most people (I see where Meg gets it from), that part of Toji’s personality does a 180 when he’s around you.

Even though he hates being away from you, Toji takes on extra assignments in the weeks leading up to your birthday so he can make sure that he pampers you like there’s no tomorrow. You are not paying for a thing when he takes you out to celebrate your day.

And even though your celebration wasn’t as extravagant as it couldve been, you know the real party happens in the bedroom. Awoooga.

-yuuji

“Y/N!! Look what I got you!!” Yuuji grins wide.

“Happy birthday to the most amazing girlfriend ever!!” He beams, outstretched arms presenting you with three boxes in various sizes, wrapped neatly in birthday-esq wrapping paper (nobara must’ve helped with the wrap job).

Your eyes light up, giggling before looking at him.

“Yuuji, I appreciate and love you so very much. But, you do know my birthday is actually tomorrow, right?”

“Yes..duh! But I couldn’t wait. There’s more coming tomorrow, too!!” He replies, seemly more excited for your birthday than you are. Your heart melts at his never ending supply of enthusiasm.

He hugs you tightly and peppers your face with kisses.

The two of you spend the night before your birthday in the house, ordering food and binge watching movies until the sun comes up. And of course he has to be the first one to wish you an official happy birthday, right at midnight.

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[just-jordie-things]

valentines from jjk:

what valentines i think they would give you <3 happy love day everyone, don't forget to tell the people you care about that you care about them !! warnings: slightly suggestive in gojo + maki's parts

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

GOJO SATORU:

gojo is nothing short of extravagant. so expect a massive, expensive bouquet of your favorite flowers. if he's feeling particularly in the mood of love, he might try to serenade you (as if this huge bouquet he presented in front of everyone you know wasn't embarassing enough!! but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?) now just imagine how he's going to treat you when the two of you are alone

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

GETO SUGURU:

he's so romantic you're going to swoon and pass out- suguru drives you out to a nice field in the evening so you can watch the sunset, have a picnic complete with sweets and a bottle of wine, and then you can watch the stars come out and find as many constellations as you can. the possibility of you also watching the sunrise together is quite fair.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

NANAMI KENTO:

nanami is a massive romantic but others might not see what you do because he can be quite private... but that doesn't mean that the love he feels for you doesn't carve itself deep into his bones and very soul. he's going to cook for you and have you over for an intimate v-day dinner. (he's been dying to propose to you for a while, and the ring in his pocket is damn near burning a hole. but it would be too cheesy to propose to you on valentines day... wouldn't it? we'll see if he lasts through dinner)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAKUMA INO:

ino wants to go the traditional route of a beautiful bouquet for his beautiful girlfriend... but he knows you love a cute stuffy so he has to put a little twist on the classic gift to make sure his valentine stands out!! also... he asked you to be his valentine months in advance... sometime around november... but he has to make sure you're secured as his valentine!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAMO CHOSO:

he may be new to the concept of valentine's day, but when choso stumbles upon a pretty earring set, he remembers that yuji once told him girls never buy heart shaped jewelry for themselves- it has to be gifted to them. accepting this rule as law, choso doesn't hesitate to gift them to you so that you always have something from him to keep close... and maybe he likes the idea of other people knowing the romantic jewelry came from him, too.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

megumi is treating you to a new set for valentine's day. he might act indifferent when you come home from your nail appointments any other day... but he does love your pretty manicure, and he loves how excited you get for them, too. so as long as you promise to get a little 'm' painted next to the heart, it's his treat sweetheart.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ITADORI YUJI:

yuji is a mixtape bf through and through. he will spend ages putting together all the most romantic songs from his playlists to curate the perfect vibe for you. he'd probably decorate the case with the most poetic lyrics from the songs, too. anytime you hang out together and you pop this cd in, this boy will be over the moon with joy that you enjoy listening to the songs he picked for you. (will he have to also buy you a cd player so you can actually listen to it? yes.)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KUGISAKI NOBARA:

i love this one so much- nobara is going to take the time to make you so many valentine kisses with every single lipstick she owns!! that way even when you're apart you'll be able to take a kiss with you. (you're never apart for too long though, don't worry, you never have to miss the real thing for long)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

OKKOTSU YUUTA:

yuuta is proposing on valentine's day. it's HIS day and we all know it. hands down his favorite holiday, because he gets to spoil you and openly profess his love to you all day long without others laughing or dying from second hand embarassment? count him in. you're barely fifteen minutes into a romantic dinner date when you're receiving a heart shaped engagement ring. (expect a lovesick speech, this boy could go on for ages about his love for you, and he will if you don't stop him)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

INUMAKI TOGE:

he's lucky you love him, truly. toge is gonna shower you with ridiculous, cheesy valentine memes as soon as midnight hits and it's officially february 14th. and he WILL make it everyone's problem too, with all sorts of these valentine memes littered about for you to find. of course he'll treat you to dinner and a romantic comedy to cuddle up to later... but for now he's the valentine's day menace.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ZEN'IN MAKI:

don't expect to go out and enjoy any valentine's festivities like a cute cafe date with a heart shaped donut. unless ofc you count going out of town to a cheesy but secluded little love hotel. maki's not letting you out of her sights until the little set she bought you is no longer recognizable... or wearable. she loves to have her pretty girl all dressed up for her to open like a present <3

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[yurmomsawh0r]

Mᴜᴛᴇ ᴘᴛ. 3 - ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟᴇ// 18+ MDNI!!!!

Warnings: Physical Abuse, violence, murder, P in V intercourse, Oral (m. Receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, cervix kissing, afab! Mute reader! [Reader suffers from ptsd] Mental abuse. Infidelity, exhibition if you squint.

Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Megumi, Daisuke, Iwaizumi, Uzui, Tanjiro, Levi, Muzan, Itachi, Kaneki, Seshomaru, Ban, Hak

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

♡

There you stood in the silk gown that gracefully fell down your body. Diamond earrings dangling from their hooks and a matching necklace to go along. You could feel the stares and whispers about the how you looked or simply about how Lord h/l/n has chosen a lovely wife for him to parade around.

They were jealous or maybe envious. Either way it didn't matter to your husband. It didn't matter to him because you were his. Nobody else's.

He would show you off for the world to see, but tonight was a special night. He was gonna show a certain someone exactly what he was missing!

°•○

You watched the way your husband conversed with his associates and colleagues. He still held his everyday stoic expression, but conversed amongst them.

Sipping your glass if champagne, you walked around the room admiring the decor the servants displayed throughout the ball room. The insignia of your husband's organization was painted in huge bold lettering on the floor.

Three perfectly lined crystal chandeliers hung, lighting up the room. An assortment of food and sweets was lined on the back wall, as well as a bar placed adjacently agaisnt the corner.

Your skin prickled. Someone was watching you - and you could feel all their exasperation, which you couldn't think of why? You hadn't done anything to anyone. Let alone spoken to them.

Only a select few were graced by your soft and seductive voice - or so, your husband liked to say. You took another sip of your drink trying to take the nerves away.

"Well look at you. All prim and proper, dressing the part." An all to familiar voice spoke from behind you. This voice was definitely something you didn't want to hear ever again.

Fear and dread filled you. Reliving the most traumatic experience you've ever had. As you faced him, you got a good look at what was once the love of your life, but now, you realized how wrong you were. His eyes was sullen and held bags under them. He was alot thinner too and his skin was a sickly pale. He was dying.

You once cared for him sure, but it wasn't love. It never got to blossom into that. Instead it turned into fear. You'd never give him the time of day ever again.

Clearing your throat, you did a quick look around. Your husband was no where in sight, leaving you in an even more distressed state.

He'd never left you alone before and him choosing to not be present anywhere in the room made you mad, and scared. "Your little sugar daddy is occupied." Dan spoke out, noticing your distress.

"You know it's all a lie right you'll never be good enough for him. For anyone. He doesn't fucking love you. Your a pet to be displayed on his arm. That's what everyone is saying anyway-"

"Even though you broke my fuckin heart, I would still take you back y/n, you should just, come back to me." In all reality, Dan knew the truth. He let his jealousy and rage take over. Resulting in him losing the best thing his had. You

You tried finding your voice but you felt it quickly fading. All the work that your husband had put in just to even get you to speak, and you were allowing this man to make you go backwards.

He went to speak again, but one of the servants called for your attention. "Lord h/l/n is requesting your audience ma'am."

Flittering away from the past as quickly as you could, you marched towards his office.

When you arrived, you seen your husband having a glass of whisky with his subordinates, but upon your arrival, they all said their goodbyes, and headed back to the party

"Enjoying yourself dear?" He asked. You gave a stiff nod hoping that he wouldn't notice your distress, but that was impossible. This man knew you better than anyone - better than yourself.

"What's wrong?" Again, you just shook your head. The words failing to leave your lips. By now you were sure he noticed something was wrong with you. He took slow calculated steps towards you until he stopped right in front of you. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His eyes narrow into slits as he examined you, trying to find anything abnormal. "Why won't you speak?" He racks his brain for a probable cause of what could make you so meek.

Just earlier you were fine, and the only time he'd ever seen you like this was when you first started to speak but was still to scared to voice your concerns and opinions.

The other was when . . . "Was is Dan?" He asked you suddenly. "Tch - of course it was. What did he say to you?"

"N-nothing, he-he just - is it true what they say?"

"What are you talking about?"

The tears you had been holding in began to fall from you freely. "Am I just your pet that you parade around. Like your charity case?"

You know you shouldn't have let Dan's words get to you, but your insecurities were stronger than your will. Its not like you haven't questioned whether or not your husband loved you. Truly loved you.

"Have I ever made you feel like a charity case y/n? - have I ever rushed or forced you to be presented in a way you never liked?" Irritation now laced his voice. You shouldn't feel like this. He shouldn't be the reason you were. You trembled a little, but still said no.

"Exactly. So just because Dan decided to show up does that mean everything I've done for you mean it's a lie?"

Again you responded no. He caressed your face, sliding down his hand down until it gripped your neck.

"Must I show you every time?" He pulled you in for a deep penetrating kiss - one that led to many other things in his office once again.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°○●

"Come in" The door clicked open and footsteps thumped the floorboards under their souls.

"What are you doing here?" H/N asked whomever he was speaking to. He was looking over a few papers before he decided he wanted to head back over to the party. "Nice party your having, but it's sad to see the host is not present."

Dan's voice rang out through the room. He was looking around the place. Trying to find anything valuable that he could take. "When business is booming, sometimes you have to-"

He pauses for a moment. Clearing his throat and adjusting himself before continuing. "- To work when it isn't convenient."

Dan analyzed his former partner. A bead trickling down his forehead and a light tint to his cheeks and his fist kept clenching and unclenching.

"What's up with you?" Dan asked him. He had never seen this man so flustered. The only other expression he seemed to hold was neutral and anger.

"Nothing, what do you want." He proceeded to say. What's wrong is the repetitive stroking of your tongue on his cock (ee I hate this word) what's wrong was the fact he had to hold back just mere seconds from fucking your face and having the best climax in the world.

He was trying to keep his cool but once you started to stroke him with sucking on his balls he couldn't help but sweat. His nails digging in his palms.

"Oh nothing. Came to see an old friend."

You could tell your husband was getting fed up and honestly so were you. "I don't have time for games, get on with your constantly procrastination." He was close - you could tell by the way his balls tightened in your hand.

You go to stroke him again but hesitated with his next choice of words. "How is she? Tired of her yet?" You could hear the smugness in his voice. You could even imagine his stupid little smirk.

You were tired of it - you were tired of him and his constantly bullying bullshit! You've had enough.

A snap of fingers and more footsteps fall into the room. Your husband is stunned to see you rising from your spot beneath his desk. You don't know where you got this courage from, but it felt good. Dan and the guards all had shocked expressions on their faces.

It was you who had snapped for them to come in.

"Take him downstairs so I can finish what we started, and then you can ask him if he's tired of me yet."

Dan's face looked completely taken over. He hadn't heard your voice in years and to hear it now did something to him - meanwhile your husband's dick throbbed even harder with need from thr scene before him.

So he decided to add a little to moment. "Well you her my lady. Take him away" and just like that, Dan was dragged away like the trash he is.

"Now where were we my love?"

[shesinmy]

you can write this however you want, a headcanon or a short drabble, but what about gojo having a crush on youngersistser!nanami?

GOJO SATORU HAVING A CRUSH ON YOUNGERSISTER!NANAMI

In this case scenario, Gojo is going to have an advantage to his taken heart. The fact that you are Nanami's younger sister just makes everything too much fun for him.

I mean, he gets to love you and irritates Nanami to the moon?! He's dying of laughter since the day he found out about his feelings.

Things are going to be just like I said in my fic before. Gojo is going to tease you, teleport out of the nowhere just to jumpscares you, bring you sweets and also be gentle and present in difficult times.

But, the teasing part is going to be ten times worse when Nanami is around. He loves seeing Nanami all pissed of and actually doing something about it.

Because, different from other occasions, with you Nanami is protective and is going to stop Gojo middle way all the time he approaches you.

Nanami also tries to hide you when he knows Gojo is coming, but that only makes it worse. Gojo is going to start playing hide and seek totally wining a giggle from you that makes Gojo's heart flutters and Nanami's heart sinks.

Girl, is going to be a war that gives your brother a hard time.

But in the end, Nanami is going to recognize how Gojo treats you well and with love. He's also going to see how happy you become around Gojo even if this hurts him a little. You are his little baby sister after all.

So Nanami will eventually support your relationship but because of you. He'll never respect Gojo.

And that's when things get worse. Nanami is now Gojo's brother.

"Nanamin, aren't you gonna give your little brother a hug?"

All Nanami's thinking is "I'm going to kill this mf, and is not going to take me so long."

LOL that made my day funnier for sure. Gojo and Nanami are amazing together. Poor, Nanami. I used to have a friendship which I was totally the Gojo to her Nanami, so I can relate. Hope you have fun :)

[kashimos-hajime]

the colour yellow | jjk

summary: “You once said love manifests the most twisted curses. I never thought of it that way before, but I’m starting to think you’re right.”

WARNINGS: ANGST!! hanahaki disease but not an au, HOSPITALS, DEATH, DESCRIPTIONS OF DISEASE, UNHEALTHY WEIGHT LOSS, pining, unrequited love, complicated feelings, its just sad. there are some light-hearted moments, and happier/softer aspects in the ending but it is generally sad in the ‘what could have been’ department pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader, past geto suguru x fem!reader, mentions of satosugu word count: 29.9k lmao

a/n: i just needed to get the hanahaki out of my system. it did not work. i took liberties w the timeline because idc about actual jjk canon in this fic thanks. 

playlist for this fic

crossposted on ao3 x

Your Innate Technique always gave you a green thumb. Meaning, similarly enough to Yaga, you could plant cursed energy into objects.

Where it deviated, Satoru knows, is the type of object. Plants—trees, leaves, flowers. 

Ironic, he thinks numbly as he walks through the hospital. Shoko had told him that at this point it was palliative care until you died—nothing else would work. Cursed energy only fed your sickness, and even her technique could not heal the damage fast enough. Stupid. Idiotic. Cruel.

Cruel. That was the word.

He hadn’t seen it himself but from how his old friend had described it, it could only be cruel. 

His footsteps tap along the linoleum floors, urgent, but not too fast. A part of him dreads what he will see—his mind swirls with the possibilities, and of guilt.

Why didn’t he just come sooner? Why did he think it was okay to wait, to dismiss Itadori when he said you’d been checked in for your coughing fits?

“She’s strong. She’ll be fine,” he had said. Itadori’s small frown. “A little feather in her throat isn’t going to knock her down.”

Why? Why? Why? Why did he say that?

Because it had to be serious to put you in the hospital. For fuck’s sake, you were still that teenage girl who stood outside his dorm window in the middle of a thunderstorm to bring Fushiguro a birthday present before you left for a curse expedition a thousand years ago, and the woman who welcomed him into your home unprompted on December 24th, your cheeks dry, lips pressed in a brave smile.

You had held him tight enough he could not see the blood, scrubbed him in a bathtub, ran your fingers through his hair until the sweat and grime was gone. You took care of him because he knows the belief that no one should be left behind to suffer alone has been engrained in you since the day he’s met you.

He should’ve known. A girl abandoned for being cursed had turned into woman with a saviour complex who’d barely even think about telling him you were dying. 

Dying, of all things, from a disease no one knows how to cure. And you’re a sorcerer.

He could’ve laughed. The irony is enough to make him smile.

Your room’s in a tiny corner of the hospital, down the hall from a nurse’s station, and as he walks through, he can see the grey sunlight streaming through the window, glaring against his glasses. He lifts them to rub the heel of his hand into his eye.

He doesn’t want you to worry when you see him, and mostly, he needs to stall. His heart is in knots in his chest, and he spots a chair beside the door with your name in the plastic slate, so he sits down. His knees feel gummy and he leans forward, the visitor’s pass clipped to the front of his shirt hanging. 

Satoru tugs the glasses off his face, fits his palm over his brow and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s chilling in this dead end, and he swallows tightly. Everything tastes so dry as he looks up and shoves his hand underneath the sanitizer dispenser, rubbing it all over his hands just so he has something to do.

After a few minutes, he gets up and sets a hand on the knob. 

It can’t be as bad as he’s imagining. At most, you’re a bit sick, but you’ll still be spritely, warm in the lips and with arms outstretched and, “Satoru, finally!”

He opens the door. 

You’re sitting hunched over in bed. Silhouette outlined by the white-grey sunlight from outside your hospital room, you’re trembling as you hold onto a receptacle. An IV is hooked to your arm, a hospital gown is barely hiding anything, and it feels immoral to even look so Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he pauses by the doorframe and closes his eyes for a moment as your gaze flashes to him. 

He feels it, to be honest. The heat of your stare until it is wrenched away by a violent cough you instinctually muffle by your palm, blood splattering over your hand, soft, velveteen purple petals falling from your lips and into the receptacle in your lap. 

You’re supposed to have a green thumb.

Vines bend to your will if you command it, you can summon forth thorns to impale your opponents, send thick creeping ivy to barricade a doorway. It doesn’t matter if there is no greenery in your immediate area. At the sweep of your hand, the ground could rumble with the sound of trees twisting their gnarled roots into feet to march at your command.

Just as long as they’re within range and you’ve touched them in the past few hours, they’re yours.

So, why can’t you stop this?

Plants are supposed to listen to you, right? As he stares at your shaking body on the bed, curved over the plastic tub, thick globs of bloodied spit drip from your lips and soaked purple blossom petals entwine with your life essence. His heart plummets to his chest. You retch, spit, choke, and every sound stabs him in the chest as he takes a weak step forward, hand stretched out limply.

Your name flutters, barely leaves his lips before you’re looking at him again, a bit of a mortifying image but nonetheless.

Even so, you smile, despite the blood painting your face, the exhaustion morphing your body. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks, and your hands shake around the receptacle. You look battered, bruised along the arms where the needles keeping you filled with antibiotics, medicine you need, had punctured you.

And still, you’re beaming at him. He thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Hi, Satoru.”

His hand falls. Eyes wide, he cannot take another step. You wipe at your lips, tossing the tissue into the trash before pushing the plastic receptacle onto the table and swinging your legs off the bed.

“Don’t—“ he croaks but you don’t listen, sliding your feet into slippers and grabbing your IV stand to take a step towards him. Your knees nearly give in but you stick out a hand before he can rush to catch you. Then, you’re pushing yourself up and walking over to him. It’s more of a shuffle, but Gojo finds he can’t care as you land on his chest, hands pressing into his back.

You’re a bit cold in his arms, and he wraps himself around you, trying to rub the heat back into your skin as you shudder, but your heart is still racing as it always does around him, and you…

You’re the type of person who can shift how the air feels and looks to his Six Eyes with your smile or your tears or your frown, and in that moment, the air bleeds yellow with your joy. It’s so bright in his soul that it makes his heart skip as you shift on your feet against him, hands sliding down so your arms can circle his waist and haul him closer. 

“Gojo Satoru turning off his infinity for little ole me,” you murmur, voice raspy, as he closes his eyes, cradling your head. Without another word, he sinks into you. “Talk about the world ending.”

Why didn’t you just call him? Why did you let him stay away for so long? He doesn’t want to ask why it’s happening, or how. He already knows you’ll just lie. But he wants to know if you think so lowly of him that you thought you didn’t matter to him.

After Suguru…

How could you think that? He’s screaming inside his mind as he touches your back, feels the faint protruding ridges along your skin when he pushes down. It makes your spine a bit more pronounced along the knobs, your shoulder blades a bit bumpy, but otherwise, it’s almost normal. One wouldn’t even be able to tell without touching you and actively searching for it. How could you think I don’t care?

This isn’t the work of a cursed spirit, that much he knows. It seems much more seductive, sneaking yet unhurried in its nature. This is agony in effigy. There’s something rotten inside you, but he can’t tell what it is. The energy is everywhere.

You pull back to look up at him with a soft smile, then tap his nose and tell him to join you before turning around and climbing back into bed with energy that betrays your earlier fits. You grab your robe that you’ve left on your bed before getting up again and walking around, shrugging the fabric back onto your shoulders.

He sits down in a visitor’s chair that is still cold.

“It comes and goes,” you explain first with your new, croaky voice, stretching your arms above your head and rubbing your neck. It doesn’t look painful, but you clear your throat a lot to see if it helps. So far, nothing. “So, it’s just like a really bad coughing fit, to be honest.”

“How long has it been going on?” Your hip cracks and you let out a relieved sigh. Satoru arches an eyebrow as you animatedly stretch your face. “What are you doing, silly?”

“It got worse a few weeks ago, enough that Nanami insisted I check myself in around two weeks ago?” you say, after counting on your fingers. Satoru’s heart plummets. “But it’s levelled out since I’ve been moved here and off-campus. And I’m stretching. When I get back out there, I have to remember how to emote.” You flash him a bedazzling grin and a bit of the weight lifts off his shoulders as you swallow down another cough. This time, it’s successful and you only let out a short, raspy breath before shaking it out.

You aren’t even doing that bad. 

The blood, the flowers, that must’ve been just a bad bout, but otherwise, you seem quite normal.

That’s what he tells himself, and he believes it.

With relief, he stretches out his legs, leaning his head back on his hands. Your room’s pretty nice—much nicer than an average hospital room. Plants on the windowsills, some get-well-soon cards and a desk in the corner filled books that you look like you haven’t even begun to read, some paintings hanging off the walls. 

You wave a hand to grab his attention again.

“Don’t look,” you chastise, tying the robe around your waist. “Some of these are works in progress.”

“So Itadori and Shoko were just exaggerating,” he assumes. You look up at him, quirking an eyebrow. “If you’re attempting to paint, I know all that’s happened is that you’ve lost your mind.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, they made it out as if you were dying. If it’s just a lung issue, they could probably just fix it and we can get back to exorcising curses and making fun of Fushiguro’s teen angst,” he says, crossing his legs at the ankles. You step over them to go to the window and examine your plants, and he eyes you in his peripheral, watching you inspect one of the leaves before looking next at some blooming flowers. You don’t answer, and the grey light makes you look melancholy until you shrug.

“The doctors say I need to rest, save my strength and all that,” you finally say vaguely. “And don’t make fun of Fushiguro.”

“I’d never do that.”

You tilt your head and arch an eyebrow skeptically before flicking his forehead with a sharp donk. “I’m not above slapping the shit out of you.” He opens his mouth to argue and you hold up a finger, shutting him up. “And you can’t hit back as revenge. Ill hospital patient rights.”

“You can’t take the moral stand. Vengeance has no gender bias,” he exclaims, sitting up but you merely smirk, leaning over and shoving your face into his space before turning your head to present your cheek. His eyes widen as you poke your own face tauntingly.

“Do it, then.”

Gawking for a moment, Satoru stares but you only wink and he pushes you away lightly. You stumble a bit and he jumps to his feet to catch you but you manage to right yourself up, shooting him a foul glare. He glares back in response.

“Well, obviously, I wasn’t going to actually slap you,” he says, indignant.

“So you pushed me instead? Gojo, in your words, you are the strongest. You never know how to control the strength you push out.”

“Yes, I do!”

“One time, you patted Megumi on the back and you sent him into the pavement.”

“He was nine.”

“It still happened!” you cry, although an impish smile is already curling at your lips and it isn’t long before it spreads to Satoru, warm bright yellow and enough that it absolves any of the remaining pain in his body as you straighten up, holding onto your IV stand for support. The metal rattles a bit as the wheels roll. Your feet brush the ground. You lift your head up wretchedly.

It’s almost like that weakness sobers you.

The expression that overtakes you frightens Satoru to fucking death. 

His face feels like it numbs, staring at the darkness that seeps the light away. You stare at the metal pole your fingers are wrapped so tightly around, and then you look at the bag hanging there, clear and round and soft to your touch as you straighten up.

“Satoru,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” His voice is so quiet he’s not sure he even speaks. He can’t remember the last time you had looked so dispassionate at anything in his life. Even death had left its mark—black frowns, long streaks underneath your eyes.

Your apathy is dark purple, an endless void colour. 

“When I die, make sure Shoko’s the one who cuts me open to find out what’s wrong with me.”

Something prickles at his fingertips. He touches your shoulder and half-thinks his fingers will go right through you.

“You’re not going to die,” he insists firmly. “It’s just a bad cough.” You look up at him and blink. Then you touch your lips and shudder down another cough.

“We all die.”

“It’s not your time, yet.” His fingers dig into your shoulder. You don’t even wince even though you’re clenching his jaw but he can’t find it in himself to loosen his hold. It feels like the Jaws of Death. A crocodile’s bite.

So much for not being able to control his own power.

“It’s just a bad cough.” He ignores everything Shoko had said. Sometimes she’s wrong—sometimes, it’s not even that bad. He’d just seen it, hadn’t he? You were stretching, jumping onto your bed, acting like nothing was wrong.

Palliative care? As if you needed it—

You blink, then, and look at him. Stare at him as if you’d never said those words, and he had never reached out. 

You jerk your shoulder out of his grip. It stings more than it should.

“Right. But I’m just saying. You know how you always say I’ve got a few screws loose. It just makes sense someone will wanna crack me open to see what was going on up there and I want it to be her.” 

You smile, and the yellow cancels out the purple. 

Colour theory. 

But Satoru doesn’t smile back.

“What about the flowers?” he asks after a while. You’ve climbed back onto bed and he’s sat back down. You’re blowing into a spirometer, and every time, without fail, the ball shoots up to the top, clattering against the plastic. He watches, hoping that the next time, it’ll do the same thing again.

You stop and look at him. “What about them?”

“Is it some optical illusion? Why are they in your throat?”

“That’s a harder nut to crack,” you muse. “I don’t really know. It’s like when you’ve got food in your esophagus and you’re trying to cough it up so it doesn’t feel stuck anymore except it keeps building up. That only started a few days ago, though, so maybe, someone drugged me or something.” He doesn’t laugh and you frown. “Not funny?”

He shakes his head. “It’s freaky.”

.

He sits on the bench on campus. 

He’s cancelled classes because he didn’t come up with a standard lesson plan and his students are glad to have a Monday afternoon off, even if they’d never say it to his face. In truth, he’d spent the whole weekend at the hospital until he reeked of antiseptic and pollen. 

You coughed up five petals, and without fail, a nurse would come in hourly intervals to collect them. Shoko came once, to check up on you and to collect the samples. If she was surprised Satoru was sitting in the corner on his phone, she didn’t voice it.

“She’s not even doing that bad,” he says to the air, more accusatory than anything. The woman standing by him doesn’t answer and sits down beside him uninvited. Turning to look at her, his eyes narrow behind his blindfold. “You said she needed palliative care until she died. The doctor said she could leave tonight.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive concepts,” she informs, not looking at him. Shoko looks a bit out of place in the warm colours of the garden. Half a corpse herself. Waif-like. “The doctor’s letting her relax in the comfort of her own home before she dies. That’s all.”

“She’s not going to die.”

She snorts. “Denial isn’t a good colour on you.” The words could’ve been delivered colder. Satoru is grateful that they weren’t. 

Shoko rests her hands on her knees, tilts her head up, and sighs. Her long hair is like warm chocolate in the sunlight, spilling down her arched back from the knot she tied. “If you have any idea on how to fix this, I’m listening with both ears.”

“I don’t even know what it is,” he says. “Coughing and flowers? I’ve never heard of a sickness like that before.”

“Nanami pointed out that it could be a curse someone placed on her. I don’t know why, but it’d be an explanation.” Satoru spreads his legs, plants an elbow on his knee and leans forward to look at the ants travelling along the cobblestone before his shoe. “It manifested on some negative emotion lingering inside her and it’s growing every day, but she won’t budge.” Shoko sighs. Her purple eye bags look worse in the sunlight, but he would never tell her that. “Maybe you’d have a better chance digging into her. With Geto gone, there’s no one else to ask, is there?”

“What about you? What happened to girls and their little secrets?” he jokes, trying to ignore the ache that begins to bloom in his chest. Shoko eyes him wryly.

“I have suspicions, but there are some things girls don’t ask other girls,” she retorts. “It’s never been my business anyway. My job is to treat her, and I’ve given her options. It’s up to her to take them. Grief is a birthing ground for curses, and if she’s letting them feed on her freely, you know what fate is waiting for her.”

With that, she gets up and leaves as quickly as she arrived. Satoru swallows the smell of flowers and feels sick.

.

Monday night, Satoru pulls up his laptop and looks through, searching up words he can string together in a coherent sense to get the answers he wants. As rare as it probably is, some research wouldn’t hurt, would it? Some curses had a trademark affliction—maybe this one does, too.

So he searches up flower coughing to see if there has ever been a record of strange deaths that have made the news. If not, he’ll go to the jujutsu databases, but for now, maybe some publicity could put some answers to this question.

He is surprised when one of the first results is flower coughing disease. 

When he hits enter, the white screen blasts into blue irises with numerous results all repeating the same two words.

HANAHAKI DISEASE

And Satoru reads, and reads, and reads. He reads two weeks to three months, he reads unrequited love, and removal, and disappearance of romantic feelings and capacity for romantic love.

He reads fictional disease and wonders how much of it really is fictional. 

His phone pings with a text, and he grabs at it, tilts it just enough to get a glimpse of the screen. It’s from you, and he hasn’t read a text from you in so long he almost doesn’t recognize who it’s from except he does because… who else could it be?

[Greenbean] 11:02 PM

hey!!! guess whos finally fucking free oh my god

ugh out of the hospital and forgot how actual air smelled like lol bitch im so hungry i could eat a zoo

Letting his phone clatter, he sighs and rubs his face roughy, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before snapping his laptop shut and getting up. His phone buzzes again and he reaches for it blindly, the screen lighting up as he goes to bed.

[Greenbean] 11:03 PM

we should get smth to eat!! i wanna go to that new ramen place in ikebukoro

[Satoru] 11:03 PM

fine but you good???? who picked you up from the hospital? still insulted you didnt let me tbh

also what did the doctor say???

[Greenbean] 11:04 PM

bc ur a menace who doesnt know how to drive 

he said itd get worse before itd get better so still gotta go for checkups but yeah dont worry and nanami came bc he didnt trust me not to try and walk home lol but he did buy me dinner

wasnt enough though!!!

…

[Greenbean] 11:06 PM

ok but fr does he think im insane

clearly id flash some skin and hitch a ride duh

…

[Greenbean] 11:10 PM

youre just gonna leave me on read? yikes

[Satoru] 11:12 PM

i was getting ready to sleep silly

and yeah ill come pick you up on saturday for lunch?

[Greenbean] 11:15 PM

sorry making instant noodles rn but yeah that sounds fine

wait youre sleeping so early lmfao

[Satoru] 11:16 PM

im old :/

  [Greenbean] 11:18 PM

u sure are

(image sent)

look!!! my babies are still alive!!! idk how but miracles do exist im tellin ya

[Satoru] 11:24 PM

inumaki, maki, and fushiguro broke into ur home to water them but dont tell them i told u

[Greenbean] 11:24 PM

wtf

[Satoru] 11:25 PM

yeah idk when but i think u teaching inumaki how to pick locks has opened up too many possibilities but also its really funny thanks

now go to sleep u need to rest

[Greenbean] 11:28 PM

whos gonna make me lol youre not my dad

[Satoru] 11:29 PM

lol 

remember how i can teleport 

lol so cool

[Greenbean] 11:30 PM

dude

wtf

fine 

goodnight hoe </3

[Satoru] 11:31 PM

goodnight knock off poison ivy <3

.

“You’ve looked better,” Shoko says. Satoru raises his head wearily as he pushes off the wall. Shoko’s holding a cup of coffee, her lab coat fresh on her shoulders and eye bags looking more printed on rather than natural swelling. Satoru can’t help but feel the same exhaustion. “Definitely looked worse. What do you want? It’s early.”

“Have you ever heard of Hanahaki disease?” he asks. She shakes her head, and he pulls up the page on his phone and hands it to her. She takes it from him and her eyes scan the screen as he continues, “It’s this fictional disease, something that stems from unrequited love, and I think it could be related to whatever she’s experiencing.”

“I thought you were set on willing her to survive,” she replies dryly, shooting him a quick look and adjusting the coffee in her hand. “But this is definitely one of your stranger theories.”

Satoru ignores that last part. “It’d make sense. With her Cursed Technique, maybe it manifested in a way that links to it.”

She pushes into the office, setting the coffee on her desk and sitting down. Satoru sits down on the exam table closest and leans forward eagerly as she continues to read the page, scrolling down occasionally before scrolling back up and sighing. “This is a stretch. The timeline doesn’t match up to what this is saying.”

“This is a curse. It doesn’t have to follow fiction.” His body feels sore, janky even, everywhere. He barely got a wink of sleep last night and he knows he’s paying for it, now. “Hell knows life rarely does, anyway. But the symptoms matches too well, doesn’t it? The flowers—you’ve done scans, haven’t you?”

She deliberates his words carefully as she looks to the file cabinet and pulls out a binder. Satoru catches a flash of your name on the spine before she moves her coffee and his phone out of the way to flip it open.

“The scans we’ve taken have only just begun to show small growths in her trachea,” she allows, “and we don’t fully understand how cursed energy affects our bodies, so I suppose it could be something like Hanahaki, if the negative energy stemming from December 24th was what brought this on or if these symptoms started when we were still students, but she’s been experiencing shortness of breath a few months before Christmas.” Satoru’s lungs squeeze the last of the air out of them at that, and a cold sweat drops down his spine as she hands his phone back to him. “It only started getting worse Suguru’s death, which meant there had to have been a trigger before that.”

In the back of his head, he hears your voice, light and yellow, saying a few weeks. It got worse a few weeks ago. 

“Worse?”

“The first petal fell some time after Christmas. It’s been a slow, but steady progression since then. Sometimes, it’s two or three. When it’s not a good day, there can be as many as seven to ten.” Shoko switches on the lamp on the corner of her desk and adjusting the direction of the white light before flipping the page. “But if we can find the original trigger and alleviate that pressure it’s putting on her, we could buy her more time.”

“So it’s been nearly six months since the first petal,” he says. Shoko nods. Satoru is grateful for the blindfold—she can’t see how blank everything looks on his face. “It said sometimes, the disease can last for eighteen months.”

“As you said, this isn’t a fairytale.” She half-spins on her chair to face him and leans back into it, crossing one leg over the other and jiggling her knee. “I saw that one of the solutions is excise the growths at the cost of the attachment. That was one of the options I gave her when the growths first appeared. She said she wanted more time before she could decide.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because she’s smart, and likes to push her damned limits. And if this is truly the basis of the curse”—she gestures to Satoru’s phone. Her expression flickers—“those flowers are feeding off cursed energy. Cutting them out would remove those negative emotions, but at a cost of something else. Maybe whatever feelings she has regarding the trigger.”

Satoru looks down at his phone. It feels heavier than a thousand cinderblocks in his clammy hands. His fingers are numb as his screen dims and finally locks itself. Pressing the button, it illuminates again to reveal a picture of a cactus you gave him for his birthday years ago, blooming with delicate purple petals. 

His heart rends. That cactus is long dead now.

“But, Suguru’s dead.” 

“That’s why I asked you to ask her,” Shoko mutters. 

Turning to her binder again, she picks up a pen and clicks it, lowering it to the paper before pausing, and Satoru looks up as she stares at whatever words are printed into the page distantly. A strange affliction is on her face, almost tormented, and Satoru is not-so-kindly reminded that before Suguru and Satoru, Shoko was your best friend first. 

“Tell her how idiotic she’s being,” she enforces quietly. “The longer it lives, the more permanent damage is inflicted. With the unpredictable nature of curses, that won’t take long and by then, it’ll be too late to consider removing it.”

.

Saturday comes too fast, yet not fast enough. By the end of the week, Satoru is all but finished with teaching, and is waiting outside your apartment, leaning against the car as he scrolls through his phone. He’s done a bit more research on this Hanahaki disease, but even the word makes him shiver with the implications. 

“Satoru!” Turning, he catches you loping easily towards him. You’re dressed in billowy, wide-legged dark mint green pants and a pretty white top that makes you look more nymph than human, with a canvas tote bag hanging off your shoulder. You flash him a smile as you fiddle with the fabric tie at the waistband of your pants nervously. “Hi.”

“Hey. Hope you don’t mind I brought Ijichi along for the ride since someone claims I can’t drive.”

“You don’t have your license, sir,” Ijichi says wearily as you bend over to wave through the window. "It would be illegal for you to be on the road in any capacity—oh, hello, ma’am. It’s nice to see you doing so well.”

“Thanks, Ijichi. I think I’m doing better after getting out of there,” you say as Satoru opens the car door for you and he smirks, eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses. You straighten up, looking at him before poking his chest and it’s almost just like the good ole days as you break out into a grin that crinkles your entire face. “What’s with you being a gentleman? It better not be because I was in the hospital.”

“Of course not,” he admonishes. “I wouldn’t dare dream of being polite to you of all people.” Still, he sidesteps and sweeps his arm, gesturing for you to climb in first which you do, exhaling a bit shakily as you settle in and slide over. By the time he’s settled in beside you, you have a fist over your lips and you’re clearing your throat testily.

A worm of unease wriggles into his stomach as he clips in his seatbelt, pulling the lapels of his unbuttoned green shirt free from the strap. Legs spreading, he lets his hands fold in his lap as Ijichi begins to drive them to their destination. You’ve lowered your hand by now, looking out the window, and it’s not bright enough that Satoru can read your expression on the glass.

It’s clear you don’t want to talk about it, but still, that nagging feeling bites at him as he rolls the divider up between the backseat and the front—a mock of privacy.

“The place we’re going to gives me the same vibe as that family-owned restaurant we went to when we were students. The one in Kagurazaka,” you say after a while, turning back to look at him. You’re wearing a bracelet that jangles when you move your hand to adjust the seatbelt across your chest. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Have you been?”

“One time, before I checked in,” you tell him, smiling still. “It was really good. The perfect last meal.” Satoru does well enough to hide his frown at your choice of words as you meet his eyes. “You know, you can ask. I’m not fragile.”

“I don’t have anything to ask,” he lies. “I’m just glad you’re out of the hospital.”

“Me, too. I’ve missed so much and it drove me insane. Yaga-sensei insists that I don’t work until I’m sure I’m feeling better,” you add. “But to be honest, there’s nothing much that can be done to make me feel better.”

“I see. So you’re still coughing up flowers?”

“Petals,” you correct, “and a bit. Don’t worry. It’ll get better soon.” You wave a hand and turn to look out the window and Satoru’s appetite all but vanishes. He doesn’t know why you’re so intent on lying to him about the severity of your condition, but as your knee jiggles relentlessly the whole car ride with unbridled excitement, he wonders if you’re even aware of how sick you could be. 

His Six Eyes scan your body for signs of a curse. Normally, those plagued have their little burdens hanging off their shoulders, prying their head open, biting into an arm or leg, but he finds yours lives inside your chest, just barely hidden by the yellow light brimming from your body as you reach forward to lower the divider and talk to Ijichi.

They reach Ikebukuro before they’re dropped off after Satoru insists on walking the rest of the way.

“Give us some privacy, Ijichi! We both know you’ll just eavesdrop for the juicy details,” he exclaims loudly, leading to the man to blush furiously, stuttering that he’d do no such thing, and earning Satoru a smack on the back of his head, knocking his sunglasses askew.

“Thanks for the ride, Ijichi,” you say warmly as if you hadn’t slapped a concussion into Satoru. The Assistant Director dips his head. “See you later!” With that, he drives off and the two sorcerers are left in the busy street. Satoru looks around curiously, but you tug him along up the main road of the district and immediately turn right into one of the smaller streets. A few cyclists race past, as well as cars, but the traffic seems relatively slow despite it being the weekend. There are people walking along the white lines separating the lanes, chatting merrily as you lead him to the restaurant.

“I forgot how actual sunlight felt,” you sigh, stretching your arms high above your head as if to touch the wind breezing through. Inhaling deeply, you close your eyes. Satoru waits for you to begin to cough, and you hold it in, throat tensing a bit. 

He looks away, and pretends he doesn’t hear your sharp exhale, the soft cough you try to muffle with your hand. Instead, he looks at their surroundings, traces the green roads, watches a man park his bicycle and take the plastic bags out of the basket before rushing into a store. The air smells faintly of smoke, and Satoru waves in front of his face to see if it’ll help dispel the scent, but it’s so engrained with the hint of meat, honey, sweets, and flowers, that he can’t.

“I saw Suguru here once,” you tell him suddenly. He blinks, head snapping to you, and you’re already regarding him with a faint smile, eyes a bit dimmer. The warm yellow energy has faded to a burnt orange as you look ahead. “A year or two after he left. It’s why I moved closer a few years ago. I guess I had this weird hope that I’d see him again, but I never really did.” A faint grin graces your lips again, as if you’re not even aware you’re smiling. Fondness overtakes you. “I think about him a lot these days.”

“Me, too.”

“Of course,” you chuckle a bit, rubbing at the back of your neck. “I’m being insensitive.” 

“No, you’re not. He meant a lot to you, too. I don’t own him, or his memory.”

“I know, but he was still your best friend.” Unbidden, a voice in Satoru’s voice finishes it for you. My one and only. 

“Did you guys talk about anything?”

“Not really anything important,” you say, shrugging, but by the way your eyes shift in the light, glimmer differently, he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s none of his business, but a part of him hungers for new parts of Suguru and it’s powerful enough to take control of his tongue.

“Nothing’s not important. He was a wanted criminal.”

“I think we both know somehow that part never mattered to us.” You look at him, and run a thumb under the strap of your bag. “To any of us. But…” You tilt your head to him and your smile grows tender. “…since you asked, we talked about us. He told me about what he wanted, the kind of world he was determined to create. He paid for my dinner, kissed me goodnight like it was normal, and then he was gone. Never saw him again until last December.”

It shouldn’t sting as much as it does. 

He remembers that day ten years ago in Shinjuku. The coldness in which Suguru had looked at him. He can’t imagine that same poison directed at you. He couldn’t even imagine Suguru looking at him like that in the first place until he did.

“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”

“I used to have nightmares about it,” you continue distantly. “Because I could’ve left with him, but I didn’t. And I could’ve killed him, but I didn’t do that either.”

“If you want to kill me, kill me. There’s meaning in that, too.”

Satoru’s chest tightens. His heart feels rotten to the core. “I didn’t, either, until I did.” You smile a bit more, at the irony. “Would you? Have gone with him, that is.”

“I didn’t, so what’s the point in debating it?” you ask before shrugging thoughtlessly and answering anyway. “I think tackling curses at the source is important. I just didn’t like the way he was doing it. If I thought I could somehow change his mind, just a bit, on his methods, maybe, but by then, he was too far gone.” 

Your eyes, chips of glinting sunstone, mellow as a cyclist trills at them with a bell to get out of the way. You step out of the way, away from Satoru for a moment, before returning to him, and when the back of his hand brushes yours, he’s startled at how cold your skin is. 

Satoru is quiet as he absorbs all of this. He doesn’t really know what to say, and you don’t prod him for a reaction as they turn the corner again. 

“It’s just over there,” you say, pointing to a small restaurant, people milling by the door. There’s a sign hanging over the door, off-white with black kanji painted on and your arm falls. “There’s a line. Huh.”

“We can wait,” Satoru says when they stop at the edge of the crowd. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay. I’ll go put our names in then come back.” You disappear into the crowd for a moment before resurfacing and joining his side again, something in your hand. “It should be, like, fifteen minutes. I said the bar was okay.”

“That’s fine.” Shoving his sunglasses up into his hair, he cracks his knuckles and migrates to the wall. You follow, and he slouches against the concrete pillar. You adjust the tote bag against your body and lean against the other side just around the corner. Their elbows brush, and you tilt your head to look at him, smiling. Your face has caught the sun perfectly, and Satoru can’t help but smile back.

He wonders how to bring up this Hanahaki disease theory. You look so perfect, so happy in this moment where their eyes meet, that he can’t bring it up. Maybe it’s selfish, but it feels like it’s been so long since the two of them even managed to see each other for more than an hour. With how overworked jujutsu sorcerers are, it’s hard to recall the last time they both had downtime at the same time that wasn’t spent catching up on sleep.

You look away, shoulders shaking, as if that’s enough to hide your coughing, and he thinks, Later. There’ll be time for that later.

“Here’s the menu,” you tell him once you’ve calmed down, extending your hand. He takes the paper, unfolding it as you cross your arms and tilt your head back on the concrete. Reading down the list, he keeps an eye on you out of the corner of his vision, and your fingers play at your lips as you swallow. Reaching into your bag, you twist the cap of a water bottle and chug half of it down.

“Do you have any medicine? For your coughing?” he asks casually. You hit your chest with a firm fist, clearing your throat and looking at him in surprise. The water bottle returns to your bag.

“Oh, uh, no. It doesn’t work. Just gotta keep hydrated and avoid any possible triggers,” you inform. You turn up the street as you speak, crossing your legs at the ankles and sinking against the concrete. 

“And what are those triggers?”

“And you say Ijichi is the one digging for gossip,” you snort with short, choked huff. Satoru rolls his eyes, but keeps looking at the menu. “Don’t worry about it. I’m avoiding them.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“If I wanted your dry wit, I would’ve gone to the original.”

“I don’t copy off Shoko. I take bits of everyone’s personality and twist it to make it my own.”

You shake your head. “Whatever you say.”

Your name is called a few minutes later and the pair push off the concrete pillar, heading through the crowd and into the small restaurant. It’s not too dimly lit, a bunch of natural light from the street streaming in through the open windows, and the air is rich with the smells of the kitchen as they sit down at the bar.

It’s not long before they’ve ordered, and Satoru has gone through his first bowl and is well into pouring his second into what remains of his broth before he remembers to even check up on how you’re doing. You’d been right—he loves this place. The atmosphere isn’t overly loud, but the mumbling of nearby patrons is enough to make him feel like he isn’t quite alone. It’s sheltered away from the world, and although he’s used to girls staring, no one has gone up to him which is giving him time to his own thoughts and food. Everyone here seems to mind their business—everyone likes to stay in their own bubble. 

Here, he isn’t the strongest, or quite so special. It honestly feels kind of nice.

You’re sipping on your broth, tilting the spoon towards your mouth and your lips are pulled into the warmest smile he’s seen since they were kids. The light’s hitting you just perfect again, more cool than warm, but it’s got you on the cheekbone, illuminated your lips. Satoru wonders if you know how to manipulate light, or if that’s just your natural blessing as you tilt your head towards him, eyes squinting from your own joy.

For a moment, another image flashes in his head. Him along the end of their group of four—you and Shoko, Suguru and Satoru. It’s almost poetry how much of a glimpse he can see in your smile. You would always be laughing, and Suguru’s cheeks would always be red, and Shoko would charm the guy over the counter to hand over a bottle of shochu. Satoru would tease his stupid best friend, and pay for their meal because “I’m friends with a bunch of goddamn freeloaders.”

But that moment ends as quickly as it came, and it’s so fucking heartbreaking that Satoru never thought their last meal together would be their last meal together. He would’ve cherished it more—done anything to make them stay in that ramen shop in Kagurazaka.

“Do you like it here?” you ask. 

He blinks. You’re studying him behind that smile of yours. Watching. Always watching. “It reminds me of when we were kids,” he replies. When he realizes that didn’t answer the question, he adds, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

You grin, delighted. “If I knew how stupid you’d look sucking up these noodles, I would’ve brought my camera like when we were students. I still have it, you know.”

“Next time, then.”

“Yeah, next time.”

Satoru pays. He insists despite your protests, and snatches the bill from you anyway, swiping his card as quickly as he can. 

After, they walk slowly around the district, looking at the other restaurants and stores for desserts or souvenirs to bring back, and it makes him so nostalgic, his heart wilts a bit in his chest. 

He is saying something about buying some soymilk for Megumi when you stop suddenly, deviating to the side of the road to cough. It grows so intense so quickly that your eyes widen as if you’re surprised, too, and you place a palm flat against your chest as he comes to your side. You wave him back, and he frowns, running a hand down your back as you finally manage to dislodge the petals in your throat and spit them into your palm.

Satoru sighs, staring at the cursed things. The energy emitted from the petals are raw, potent, and his nose wrinkles at the stench that comes from powerful curses as he softly asks, “Do you know what Hanahaki is?”

“Flower vomiting?” you whisper through your raw vocal cords. You shake your head, slamming your sternum with a tight fist and flinging the drenched petals to the ground with a wet slap. “Itadori… said something about it, once. Never really paid attention, I—”

Satoru squeezes the back of your neck gently. “Whatever this curse is, it could be something like that.“

“You don’t want to open that can of worms, Gojo, of what is causing this.” Straightening up, your eyes widen and your cheeks puff up as you choke down another bout. Wobbly, you spit out, “It’s under control. I swear.”

“Are you sure?” His fingers brush your chin to turn your face towards him so he can look at it more clearly, and the instant their eyes meet, you lurch over, slapping his hand away and succumbing to the wracking. Hands shooting out to grab your elbows, Satoru barely eases you to the ground as your legs give in.

You collapse to your knees, hard. A hand is slapped over your mouth but your whole body shakes with the seizing of your lungs. Eyes widening, your cheeks puff up as Satoru grabs your shoulders, falling to his knees beside you.

“Hey! Hey, breathe!” His fingers dig into your shoulders and your nostrils flare, trying to follow his instructions. Bloodshot eyes and blueing lips, your inhales are shaking and incomplete, gasps for air that do not take in any oxygen before you’re kneeling over, hand falling from your lips. Blood splattered over your palm, you let out a low noise of pain. Satoru’s hand glides down your spine, rubbing in soothing circles as red spit falls to the pavement in thick globs. 

People all around stop to stare, eyes masked with concern, but he can’t care less at that moment despite the burning scrutiny. He shoves a hand into his pocket, speed-dialling one of the top numbers of his list.

“Ijichi, I need you to take us to the hospital, now!” Letting his phone drop with a clatter, he scoops you close but you slam your bloody hand against his chest, pushing him away. You throw yourself away, hands twisted tight in the fabric of your white shirt and Satoru looks down at the red handprint on his tee before blinking. “What are you doing? We need to get—“

“I’m—I’m fine!” Your voice, broken, is drenched with ice as you continue to wheeze, grasping at your chest as if you could reach and tear out the growths with your own hand. “Gojo, I’m fine!”

“No, you’re not!” Grabbing his phone, he hears a loud car horn, and looks up to see Ijichi leaning out of the driver’s seat, waving his arm frantically. Without another thought, he scoops you up and runs out into the street, ignoring the tires screeching, the cars horns blaring at him and the angry shouts as he jumps into the car and slam the door shut. 

Ijichi sets off at a drive, no directions needed. Satoru is sure he’s breaking as many laws as he can as he pushes you back against the seat to buckle you in. Blood dribbles down your lips in bubbles as a thick, gurgling sound begins to grow in your throat and he wipes at your chin with his sleeve, clicking the buckle into place just as you pitch forward. He jerks back just in time as you retch, and, slowly, torturously, you gag out three petals, one after another. Your fingers claw at your own throat, panicking and desperate as you struggle to breathe.

The petals fall in wet pools between your feet, landing on the carpet, and he spares them not even a glance before forcing your head between your knees. You’re still hyperventilating and as Satoru sweeps a hand down your back and up to your neck, his fingers come into contact with something sticky. 

Sweat. It drenches through your shirt so suddenly that Satoru reels at the wet marks spreading through your shirt, making the fabric translucent. Your heart is racing, tripping over itself. When you finally stop coughing, you breathe in harsh pants as he keeps your head between your knees.

Your fingers lace at the back of your head and he grabs them firmly, reassuring that he’s still beside you. 

.

“She’s stable,” Shoko announces to the waiting Satoru and six students. The latter came when their teacher had told them of what happened, and Itadori still clings to Fushiguro’s arm by an iron hand, fingers clawlike into his friend’s bicep. Kugisaki chews on her thumbnail, a bit paler than usual and there are crescent indents along her forearm where she had dug her nails in. Maki’s hand rests on her shoulder. Inumaki’s on the phone with Panda, and he turns the screen around so he can see the Strongest Sorcerer who does not feel quite so strong.

Satoru’s assurances that you would be fine had done nothing but send them into a quiet that scared even him. 

“Is she okay? When can she get out?” the kids demand suddenly.

“We’re waiting for the updates on her scans from the doctors, but she’ll need to stay here under observation.”

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, smiling in a way that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Guess that means she gets a few more days off while the rest of us are working our asses off,” he teases. Maki shoots him a glare and his eyes close in a way he hopes arranges his expression in one of joy as he shrugs helplessly. “Well, that means I have another girl I have to spoil.”

“Aren’t you too busy with the four already blowing up your phone?” Kugisaki mutters sourly. Satoru pretends not to hear. His phone has been silent without your texts, and it’s cold and heavy in his pocket.

“Can we see her?” Fushiguro asks. Shoko nods, but holds up a hand and the kids skid to a stop.

“She’s resting. I’m unsure if you know, but certain topics of conversation or trains of thought can lead to more attacks, so stick to talking about your curriculum. Topics you think are safe.” The woman shifts on her feet, a wisp of brown hair swaying in front of her eye. “It’s unavoidable, but use your judgement.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The students walk off down to the dead-end hallway, and Satoru turns to Shoko who has her arms crossed over her chest. She steps up, scanning him like he’s got contraband, and he raises his eyebrows innocently.

“What?”

“It’s getting worse. I hope you managed to get answers,” she says. At once, Satoru’s facade drops, and a sober sensation overtakes his face.

“No, I didn’t. She’s heard of the disease, at least. We talked about Suguru, but it wasn’t like it was under lock and key.” The brunette shakes her head at his words, gesturing for him to sit down beside her. Doing so, he leans back into the uncomfortable chair as she crosses a leg over the other. “She said she thinks about him a lot.”

“She still loves him,” Shoko says bluntly. “She gets that far-off look when she talks about him. You two should trade secrets some time.” A shake of her head, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I healed what damage I could, but I can tell those growths inside are expanding. The attack only seems to have agitated and prompted them to take root.”

“How…” It’s hard to formulate the question. Luckily, Shoko knows him well enough.

“Without seeing the scans, I won’t know. Based on her last ones, I thought at least four months. Now?” Her lips press into a thin line. “She’ll be lucky if she gets two.” Shoko’s eyes flicker down Satoru’s front, and her lips press into a wry line. “And change you shirt. You look like a murder suspect.”

Glancing down, he looks at your dried bloody hand print, stark against white, and he gets up abruptly. Shoko doesn’t stop him.

He walks down to the dead-end hall. He can hear Itadori through your open door cracking jokes, Kugisaki relaying every detail of her shopping trips, and you’re wheezing your laughter despite Maki scolding you to save your strength. Satoru stops just outside your door, out of sight, and rests his head against the frame, content to just listen.

“Tuna mayo.”

“Is that right?” you ask Inumaki. “Lay it on me.” 

You sound exhausted, beaten to the bone, but still, when Fushiguro says something too quiet for him to make out, you still have the strength to tease him for worrying.

.

The night is warm, and he sets the last plant back into its place on your window sill before cracking the window a bit at your request. He’s busied himself making this place as homely as possible as quickly as possible, and in the process, had walked in on you staring at your own scans on the lightscreen mounted on your wall.

“Thanks, Satoru,” you say over your shoulder. He joins you by your side to stare at the scans. Granted, Satoru didn’t cheat his way through medschool like others have, so he doesn’t understand much, but he can tell what is and what isn’t supposed to be there. The floral-like growths situated right where the main bronchi meet the trachea, for one.

The roots spreading across your chest like cracks in concrete, for another.

“The doctors want to monitor this,” you explain, pointing at the roots, “to see whether or not it’ll grow around my lungs or continue outward, around the ribs and spine. If it’s the former, I’ll slowly suffocate and die. If it’s the latter, I’ll slowly suffocate, become paralyzed, and die.” You smile grimly. “Not quite a win-win.”

“Exactly the opposite.” He inspects the growths and through the blue-white-black imaging, he spots the tiny stems emerging from the main growth, sprouting into your lungs. He guesses, with time, those will grow into flowers of equal size before sprouting more shoots.

He wonders…

As if sensing his hesitance, you scratch your collarbone and look at the scans with a new glint.

“The doctors say if I avoid another attack like today, I’ll probably have two months, three if I’m blessed, but because of how big the growths have gotten already and its volatile nature, it’ll be impossible, so we’re looking at a month. Maybe a month-and-a-half?” You smile at him, throat bobbing. “Guess it’s good to have a number,” you add shakily, a short puff coming at the end of each breath as you struggle to fight the cough. “Being a sorcerer, too much uncertainty, I think.”

“You should tell Nanami that. Maybe this time, it’ll convince him to stay away,” he retorts, turning away from the scans. They’re burning his eyes and he doesn’t want to look at the real thing for much longer. You turn with him, walking back towards bed and climbing in. “Are you sure you don’t want the operation? Shoko could do it so fast you wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“No, not yet. There are some complications that’ll definitely occur and I don’t want that to happen.”

“But it would save your life,” he argues. “What risks are frightening enough that you’d even consider not having it?” Your gaze flickers as you take another wheezing breath. The strength seems sapped from your limbs—you’re a scarecrow hanging off its pole as you swallow tightly. Satoru leans against your window sill and crosses his arms over his chest so you can’t see the frustrated fists he wants to make. “If this is about Suguru…”

Resolutely: “It isn’t.”

“You’re going to die if you keep going down this road. I don’t understand why you’re hesitating.” In the back of his mind, klaxons begin to scream.

“Satoru, some things are just beyond logical reason.” He jerks his gaze away, pushing his glasses up his nose pointedly. You sigh. “I know it’s hard, but this is my choice. I just want you to be here so you know it’s okay.” 

Your hand stretches out. Blue eyes flash to your outstretched fingers and he takes it before he can stop himself. Your fingers curl over his palm, tugging him closer and he lets you, sneakers dragging over the tile until he’s sliding into the chair by your bed. It squeaks against the tile.

“Please don’t be angry with me.” That’s all. That’s all I ask.

A hard, heavy sigh, this time from his end. He tightens his hold on you as you sit there, smiling hopefully. His heart thunders in his chest. “I’m not angry.”

You perk up a bit, and his index finger unfurls to rub your wrist. It feels colder than normal. “Promise?”

He wishes he could lie half as well as you. Either way, he tries his hardest: “Promise.”

By the time it’s quarter past nine, you’re already getting ready to sleep. You have enough pillows to surround your entire body, and he fluffs them up, helps you arrange them until you’re sighing against the white sheets, burrowing in with a sedated smile on your face.

Satoru sits down again on his visitor’s chair and you watch him lazily through the dim orange light stemming from behind your bed.

“You don’t have to stay here and watch me, creep,” you mumble, turning your face away to stare at the ceiling. You cough dryly, but it subsides moments later. Your voice is nothing but a croak as you let out a tired groan, and Satoru smiles to himself, cheek to his fist. 

“I feel robbed of our afternoon together. Making up for it now.”

You look at him again incredulously. “We’re not even doing anything.”

“I don’t know when you were told that every second of us being together had to be us doing something,” he huffs. “I like being in here. Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s too much. You’re annoying me.” Even so, your voice turns fond as you roll onto your side, away from him to settle in to sleep and Satoru’s warm gaze lands on your shoulder gently rising and falling as you slowly drift off. 

He already knows you’re gone by the time he’s standing up and gathering his jacket. Walking around the bed, he glances at the bathroom to check the light’s off and catches a glimpse of his shirt. A coil wraps around his gut at the muddy red handprint pressed into the fabric and he turns away to look at you instead.

Your face is in perfect peace, half-buried into a pillow you’re hugging into your chest, and he only soaks in those features. His hand twitches, and his infinity wavers as he raises his hand as if to touch you. Your eyelids flutter and he freezes, fearing he might’ve woken you up, but you only mumble incoherently and turn into your pillow.

Satoru watches on silently just as a breeze sweeps into the room and he looks up where the window he had cracked open. The breeze takes hold of the plants, uplifts them until they sway like a tender dance. 

His chest begins to hurt. The smell of the antiseptic is starting to sting, so he moves his hand to the light switch instead. Flicking it off, he turns to leave.

.

Every time Satoru walks down to the end of the hallway, a different memory will play in his head until he’s playing a movie over and over every single day. Of the first time he met you, although that one is blurry. Your sixteenth birthday when the four of them had piled into your dorm room to drink themselves stupid.

One-and-a-half weeks go by before he realizes that he only replays the moments where you feature. Like his brain is preparing him, reminding him. For what, he doesn’t know. 

He can’t come every day—considering the low number of sorcerers has been taken down by one more, it means besides teaching, he still has to work for the Higher Ups as well as his own personal agenda—but when he does make it, he always makes sure that he soaks in every second. Even the horrible parts. Maybe, especially the horrible parts.

You have scans taken every other day to monitor your progress, so when he arrives at an empty room, he isn’t surprised. It’s when there’s movement in the bathroom that sends his nerves prickling until he catches a slab of golden hair and reading glasses flashing in the sunlight.

“Nanami,” he greets.

“Good afternoon.” His jacket’s off and his sleeves are rolled up. With a quick sweep of the room, Satoru notes that the windows are cracked open and the aforementioned jacket is folded over a chair sat in a square of sunlight.

“Do we need to be so formal?” he complains, bypassing the bathroom and searching for another chair. The one Nanami’s taken by the plants is still warm and Satoru isn’t keen on the idea of sweating so soon. During his search, he stops by the windowsill and his eyebrows rise curiously at the new plants and trash bin pressed up right underneath. “What’s happening here?”

“We were planting new seeds when she had to be taken for her scans. She insisted I finish potting the plants.” Noting the empty terracotta, Satoru bends over and prods at the moist dirt. “I have to go soon, though. I had hoped it wouldn’t take as long as it did and she would be back by now.”

“They started taking MRI scans when the branches continued to grow outward rather than inward,” Satoru informs. “It takes around forty-five minutes, on top of the CT scans they’re taking, too. That’s if she doesn’t start coughing in the middle of it.” 

“I’m guessing she does.” Nanami adjusts the glasses on his nose, wiping at his hands free of the last of whatever dirt might’ve been clinging to his hands.

“Yup.”

“I see.” Satoru looks at the plants again. The blond man across the room throws the towel into the dirty clothes basket.“Has she… spoken to you of what to do with her effects?”

Gaze hardening, he doesn’t move at the question. Of course, he’s thought about it, but those bouts of weakness have never been longer than a few minutes. There’s no use in wasting time on a reality that won’t come until it does.

Hopefully, it never does.

“I’m so sick of everyone talking like she’s signed a death sentence,” Satoru murmurs, turning around to look at the blond man at the door to the washroom. “She still has time. Not a lot. It’s not convenient, but it should be enough.”

“She’s already considered the benefits of taking the surgery, and yet she actively decides to postpone it. You know she’s stalling,” comes the steady reply.

“And what about you?” Satoru asks. His words are biting, icy, but Nanami seems unfazed as he begins to loop the tie around his neck. “Would you do it?” Blue eyes meet a stoic face, and the coldness seeps into Satoru’s body. Nanami sighs.

A part of Satoru wonders why he even bothered asking. He already knows the answer—

“No.” Eyebrows shoot up. His mouth drops open and a strangled noise escapes his throat. Nanami merely continues on, quiet as death. “Perhaps it’s because I’m willing to accept my death, but, to be honest, I don’t know how to let any part of Haibara go. I’ve accepted it, but he’s still in my heart and my head.” Lips parting, Satoru takes a step forward as Nanami slants his body away, continuing to fold the fabric into a tie. He looks statuesque, unmovable, and something tightens in Satoru’s throat at the stone-like mask taking over his face. “I’m unwilling to do anything to taint that memory.”

Wordlessly, the blond walks over to Satoru to take his jacket from the chair, rolling down his sleeves and slapping his watch back onto his wrist. Standing less than two feet apart, the two men finally meet eyes.

“Gojo,” Nanami murmurs. “I can’t say I understand your burden, but I am by your side. I do not always agree with your choices, but I still respect them. As your kouhai and as your colleague.” His lips pull in a facsimile of a wry smile and there’s an understanding Satoru doesn’t understand haunting his handsome face. “However, she is your friend before mine. I think your opinion matters much more than mine. Don’t abuse that power.”

Satoru’s eyes nearly reflect in the lenses of Nanami’s glasses. He wishes his friend would take the damn pair off. 

In truth, the reason he’s so irritated is because he knows. If he insists enough, begs enough, there will always be a chance that he can convince you. That you will give in, not because you are selfless, but maybe because you’re too selfish to let him stay mad at you.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object, and sometimes, the force wins.

But he’d promised, hadn’t he? To not be angry with the choices you’ve made?

“Jeez, it’s somber in here. Who died?” you tease as Shoko pushes the wheelchair in after you. Both men look away from each other. You’re still walking steadily, but an IV is hooked into your chest now, and it’s so obvious you’ve lost unhealthy weight that looking at you is hard sometimes. Satoru does, anyway. 

Noting Nanami, you straighten up. Surprised, but pleased: “You’re still here.”

“I was just leaving,” he says. You frown, but don’t protest. A jujutsu sorcerer’s work is never finished until one stops breathing. “I finished planting the seeds you asked me to, and watered them.”

“Thank you.” He dips his head to you, then to Shoko, before departing, and you watch him go for a moment before your eyes land on Satoru and you smile. The air around you shifts immediately to a vibrant yellow. 

“You’re early, Satoru.” You head towards the bed as Shoko parks the wheelchair by the door. “It took way longer than I thought.”

“That’s because you threw up pistils today,” Shoko replies dryly. Satoru straightens up and looks at Shoko more carefully. Placid lookimg—usual for his mortician friend in the jujutsu world—but there’s a blanching in her knuckles that isn’t usual. “The CT wasn’t good. You know that.”

“Well, it’s still more time than I could’ve asked for, you know.” Shoko shakes her head, and meets his eyes before leaving the room, presumably to talk to your doctors. “Party pooper.”

“First day knowing Shoko?”

You laugh sarcastically, adjusting the hospital gown on your body before climbing into bed slowly, as if your joints ache. Satoru’s feet shift on the tile when he realizes his body moves to help and he freezes. You’re breathing audibly by the time you settle in and you meet his eyes, wondering if he’s noticed.

Of course he has, he wants to tell you. He notices everything about you.

Then, you sigh, and the yellow energy around you flickers into something darker, something grey, something that reminds him of summer thunderstorms.

“The roots have reached the edge of my rib cage and are encroaching on my stomach now,” you inform bluntly. “I probably won’t be able to keep food down in the next couple of days so they’re going to up the ante on this thing.” You gesture to the catheter by your clavicle. “So that’s not really fun. And, they want to start taking scans every single day because the growth is increasing exponentially. The doctors think something triggered the flowers to begin blooming in earnest. Like spring has come to my body, and I’m having the worst fucking time of my life.”

Despite your admission, your smile only falters in that it no longer reaches your eyes. Satoru shoves his hands in his pockets because he doesn’t know what else to do.

The word Hanahaki still burns, whispers coyly in his ear. It teases the tip of his tongue as he watches you look to your windowsill where your new plants are and get up, walking over to inspect your friend’s work.

He wonders if he can bring it up again. If he can insist that there’s a way to save you—

But Nanami’s words linger, too, and he bites his tongue until he tastes iron. 

“Oh, look.” He blinks at your voice, turning to look. Your fingers sink into one of the pots and before he can ask, blue energy flares up around your hand and into the soil and a shoot breaks through the dirt, unfurling as it grows higher and higher into the air.

“What is it?” Petals are beginning to form, the shade of a warm, gentle red that fades in shade as it reaches the stem. Satoru comes up next to you as the first flower blooms and his eyebrows rise. “Tulips. Huh.”

“I used to love them,” you tell him, picking it off and extending it to him. Eyebrows furrowing in surprise, he takes it as you sink your fingers deeper into the soil, sending more cursed energy into the seeds. More stems to replace the one you had picked continue to grow and you pull your hand out, wiping at your fingers with a towel.

Satoru tilts the flower towards his nose, taking a whiff.

“Used to?” he repeats, and you nod.

“Trees and flowers have their own language.” Your eyes do not meet his as you watch the plant continue to grow. Your muscles go slack, and your fingers touch the petals, mind not quite aware of how you’re moving. “Red tulips mean eternal love, and fame.”

Blinking, he looks down at his own bloom. 

Suguru. He hears you say his name, even in the silence, and remembers years ago, walking through Tokyo. A neighbourhood he doesn’t remember, his best friend looking at the florist’s shop and immediately perking up to head inside and buy a bouquet after something had caught his eye.

“For a girl,” he had admitted sheepishly. 

“Only one?” Satoru asked, horrified. “You can’t settle down! We’re meant for so many more women than just one!”

A sharp nudge to the ribs. Raucous laughter. “Shut up!”

Quietly, Satoru’s fingers tighten around the stalk as you tilt your head to the sun, inspecting something he won’t understand. He doesn’t have a green thumb, and although you say you aren’t the smartest, he’s seen you grow the college’s gardens in a way that has amplified the beauty already lingering on the grounds. You had dismissed it as a little side project, but seeing you water your plants dutifully, spread feed and root out weeds, makes him wonder if you know how to put half-efforts into anything.

When you garden, you never take the easy route. You labour for the satisfaction, and pour sweat and tears into the soil.

When you love, you love with all of yourself and more. 

It’s what makes whatever he wants impossible.

Because he is the same, and they will never change.

When Satoru goes home, he places the tulip in a vase and the cursed energy prickles at his fingertips.

.

You get worse and worse with every visit. 

Each day brings him another raw wound, salt on blood. You slowly grow more and more ragged, even though you stay in the hospital, confined to your room. 

There are days Satoru walks into your room to you hunched over the toilet, spitting blood and flowers into the bowl and vomiting all you ate the night or day or hour before and he already knows what he has to do. A cold, damp rag to your forehead, a crouching stance beside you as your grip on the toilet seat becomes rigid like steel.

Other days, you’re still asleep because the night before, you’d been hacking up half a lung and half a bouquet. Sometimes, you’re curled around a plastic receptacle already full of your half-attempts to dislodge the pressure building in your chest. 

Or, you’re crying into your hands, breath coming in rapid bursts as you try to force your head between your knees to stop the world from spinning and Satoru holds you when you beg him to, and stands in the corner of the room when you push him away.

Afterwards, you always grab onto his sleeves, his arms, and sink against him, shivering. For hours after, he’ll curl around you on your hospital bed, no matter how much his body cramps, until you insist you’re fine.

“It’s a little like touching death,” you told him once, voice raw and fatigued. “When it’s a pretty bad day, and I think I’m going to die alone, it happens, so all I have to do is not think about it.”

There’s a flawed logic there, but Satoru was too busy pressing his nose into your hair and feeling the warmth of your body to reply any more than, “I’ll be there. I promise.”

Two weeks pass (fourteen sets of scans, a different pair hanging from the lightscreen every day tell him that) and Satoru watches as the branches spread through your body, past the reaches of your ribs, and the flowers have spread to your lungs so quickly he’s sure the time for you to decide is running out. 

You’re near-passed out against him on the bathroom floor one evening, and although it’s not closet-sized, it doens’t make the arrangement any less awkward. He’s up against the bathtub, legs sprawled all around you as he holds you in his arms. On the edge of the tub, there is a bar of bodysoap and a bottle of lotion he recognizes as the same one Shoko used to buy when they still had time. Your sink counter is filled with your toothbrush and cup, handsoap and a microfibre towel hanging off the edge smeared with lipstick, foundation, and black streaks of who knows what.

Shoko must have spent the night while he was out hunting a curse in Sendai. Good. He doesn’t like the nights when you’re alone and he can’t be there.

His fingers brush over your shoulder blade, and he travels over something rigid cloaked by your skin. Your eyes are closed, and you’re nearly asleep as you curl deeper against him. Looking down at you, he presses curious fingers into your shoulder blade only for you to let out a soft groan.

“Did that hurt?”

“No. It just feels like you pressed down on a big sore muscle,” you mumble slowly. He trails his fingers over, feels the bumps of the roots curling around your bones before following it towards your spine. It disappears the closer it reaches the trail of knobs that go down your back, and he moves back to your shoulder again. “Doesn’t hurt, though.”

“Does anything?”

“Mostly my stomach,” you tell him. “I’m so hungry all the time, but I can’t eat.” He glances at the IV stand, the only other witness to the events in this bathroom. It leads down through your gown and past your clavicle. Monitored every day in case the growths dislodge it, it’s one of the only things keeping you alive. “And my throat. It feels like I’ve scratched it out until it’s bleeding.”

He tilts his head. His lips barely brush your sweaty scalp despite how cold you feel in his arms “No surgery?”

You shake your head, what remains of your strength slowly coming back. “They say the flowers and roots have taken up sixty-five percent of my chest cavity. It’s not only inhibiting my lungs, but my heart and stomach, too, so it’d be kind of hard to get rid of it all. Not impossible, but it’s really risky. That, on top of the already-present consequences—”

“So let’s say we start with the lungs,” he cuts off, trying to not sound too desperate but these past few weeks have worn him down to the bone. Although he thinks he’s managed to hide it from his students, Shoko has offered multiple times to prescribe him sleeping pills just so he can shut his mind down.

He said no every time.

Your legs draw up and he squeezes your shoulder carefully, looking down. “Are you ready to get up?”

You nod. “I think so.” He wipes at your lips with the rag he left on the counter and you roll your eyes as he makes sure no blood is left on your face before throwing it back up and carefully adjusting you against him.

“Do you want my help?”

“My answer does not matter to you,” you shoot back teasingly and he lets you pull away from him before reaching up with one hand to push yourself up. Your arm wobbles, your feet kicking back underneath you and slowly finding theirselves on the floor. Satoru withdraws, ducking underneath and back up so he can stand, hands floating around your body as you draw the IV stand towards yourself and grab on. When he’s sure your knees might give in, he grabs your elbow, but you shake your head. “I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you breathe, raising your head to look at him. Your lips curl in a soft smile, and you clasp his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t even do anything this time,” he says.

“Not everyone stays for the pathetic girl on the floor of the bathroom floor,” you quip. Turning around, you begin to head back to bed and he trails behind you carefully.

“If the girl’s you, then I think exceptions can be made.”

“Hospital bonus.”

“It adds that you’re in the hospital, too,” he agrees. “My morals are just.”

“Isn’t that a relief?” 

It is. It is a relief that you still have the strength to joke with him. 

You climb back into bed. Satoru returns to the bathroom to make sure the bathroom is flushed and it’s clean before returning and perching on the edge of your bed. Pulling out his phone, he shuffles his shoes off and tucks his legs to his chest, leaning against the foot of your bed and scrolling through his messages.

Not much to miss, to be honest. 

“There’s supposed to be a lunar eclipse on the morning of the 28th,” you say suddenly. Satoru looks up. You’re leaning back on the mountain of pillows, exhaling and inhaling measuredly in a way he now knows is your way of fighting off another bout. Squinting against the orange glow of the sunset, there’s a longing in your gaze. “I want to see it. Outside and everything.”

“You’re not supposed to leave the hospital.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Oh, we’re abiding by rules, now?”

“If it keeps you around, yes, we are.”

“When did my best friend turn into such a party pooper?” Looking at him, an impish glint lives in your eyes. He balks.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I’m not fun.”

“Then… take me to see the eclipse.”

“No. There’s nothing to even see.”

“I want to see the moon disappear, Gojo,” you declare. “And if you won’t take me, I will definitely sneak out.” 

It paints a pretty pathetic picture, and he can’t help but arch his eyebrows at your determination. The air purifier drones on. The nurse turned it on after dinner, he guesses, and he has the strange urge to kick it as you fix him with a fierce stare. 

“You probably won’t be able to walk by then,” he says.

“That won’t stop me.” He knows it won’t. The corner of his lips pulls into a slight smile as you continue, “I just want to go outside one last time. Is that really too much to ask?” Your words are tinged with a fine dusting of humour, and he shakes his head.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Big word for you, Satoru.”

“I still mean it.”

“And I learned that from you.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine,” he caves. Your face lights up, and he sets down his phone, legs unfolding to brush the floor as he leans over to flick your forehead. Your eyes squeeze shut at the contact and you slap his arm away sluggishly before he soothes the smarting spot over with a smear of his thumb. “I’ll come by, and we’ll sneak out.”

You beam and he slips his feet back into his shoes and pockets his phone so he can focus his attention on you. 

When visiting hours end, the nurses offer to set up the cot for him like they always do. You pretend not to look at him out of the corner of his eye, awaiting his answer behind your laptop screen, and he spares you a quick glance before saying yes.

“She likes you,” you tell him after one particular nurse with dyed purple hair who always wears a fishtail bids them goodnight. Satoru fluffs up his pillow ceremoniously, having shed his jacket and taken off his jeans to hide underneath the blankets. The fabric is cold against his bare chest, and he pulls his glasses off, sets them on the stand right behind him.

The black frame holding up his mattress rattles a bit as he punches his pillow one last time and lies down. He turns on his side and looks at you. You’re turned on your side, too, and your brow is furrowed as you fight the sleepiness.

“Is that so?” he asks carefully. “What do you think about it?”

“I think if you wanted someone with a hectic schedule, you could pick someone else,” you say vaguely.

He raises an eyebrow. “Does she have a bad attitude or something?”

“I dunno.” There’s a subtle fire igniting in your words. You look a bit more awake, and your eyes are shifting the air into a smouldering red. He squints up. Your face is shadowed, but you’re still silhouetted by the orange light behind your bed as your shoulders rise and fall greatly in staggering, weighty breaths. “She wouldn’t understand. I guess.”

He hums. “So I should find someone who understands me but can’t be there for me? Sounds like the set up to every tragic love story ever.”

You laugh, and it’s the saddest sound in the world.

.

Friday, July 27th arrives in clouds.

Satoru scouted a spot before where they can watch the eclipse. He settles on one of the highest buildings on campus with a balcony where they can sit against the railing and watch the moon disappear. You can’t eat, but he still buys your favourite food from all over Japan, travelling to different prefectures in hopes that they still have your favourite dessert or drink that you mentioned once—he even gets you a new polaroid camera. He doesn’t know exactly how well the eclipse will show up on it, but, memories, right?

Maki makes a dry remark about how much he’s running around lately, probably to make amends to a girl he’s scorned. Satoru deflects and says he’s actually trying to impress one this time.

It’s been a five days since his promise to bring you. You lost your ability to walk steadily two days ago and to speak effortlessly only yesterday. The roots have extended through your body, pushing the muscle of your back and shoulders, and it’s made even moving painful, so he intends to carry you everywhere he can, holding your IV bags if he needs to. 

The doctors say eighty-five percent of your chest is now occupied with foreign growth. Satoru wishes they’d just tell it how it is—you’ll probably be dead by next week.

He arrives at the hospital and walks the path he’s walked so often over the past few weeks that he is sure he could do it with his eyes closed. The nurse’s station, and there’ll be the purple-haired one and the one with a double helix piercing on call at this time. Then, twenty-five steps to the end of the hall where the window often lets a lot of natural light in. Today, it’s grey and not much, but it’s enough to cast his shadow long and blurry.

He stops in front of your door to sanitize his hands when he hears voices within and hesitates.

Your door is closed, which means you don’t want people to interrupt, and he moves away from the rectangular window, back pressing against the tiny slab of wall between the frame and the corner of the hallway. Glasses slipping down his nose, he tries not to listen but he can’t help of himself.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” you say weakly. You sound awful. Satoru wonders if he’s missed one of your panic attacks and curses himself. “If I don’t sound sure, it’s because I’m dying… and sounding like a fragile piece of shit… comes with the territory.” Your words are coarse, and a harsh anger grates his ears as you cough violently, a terrible retching sound ending with a splat following right after. 

“I wasn’t doubting you,” Nanami replies calmly. “But this could be done in so many other ways.”

“Look, Nanami. I’m not… brave enough to say any of it. Now, sit down. Your standing… it’s making me nervous… Thank you.” Satoru’s legs feel numb as he sinks down to the floor, tilting his head just enough to listen clearer through the sliver underneath the door. Resting his elbows on his knees, he runs a hand through shaggy white hair. It feels dry and lifeless. 

He can’t remember the last time he took a shower that was longer than ten minutes and more than ice-cold bordering on just beginning to warm.

“Take care of him for me,” you croak and his fingers tighten against his scalp. Nanami doesn’t answer, and you let out a sound that can only be described as pure agony as another bout grasps you tightly. You’re wheezing by the end of it, gasping painfully for air, and the monitors start beeping rapidly, a dinging that echoes in his head as Nanami’s low voice soothes you, tells you gently to calm down. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Breathe with me,” Nanami orders, and everything falls silent. Satoru stares at his lap. His head is beginning to pulse with the monitors when the beeping finally starts to fade. “Good. No sense to waste your strength.” 

Wobbly, spitting: “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” A pause. “It’s not your fault.”

You laugh, as if Nanami’s cracked a funny joke, and it’s gut-wrenching. “Remember how… we can curse each other? Ourselves? True curses.”

Faintly amused, immeasurably strained: “I thought it was still a hypothesis regarding those who don’t have the correct bloodline and the ability to curse through their own will.”

“No…Not a hypothesis. Real, Nanami. Real. No one knows how cursed energy affects us. Not really. Since, in my opinion, it’s entirely based on how we process things… it’s so difficult to say but when you know someone…” You break off to clear your throat. “The curse of adulthood… some of us got that too early… but we can survive that and even if it’s not a curse by… definition, we still feel it, right?” 

Satoru clasps his hands together just so he doesn’t rip the door open at the hinges.

“Right.”

“And… knowledge… can be a curse. Even if we can’t see it.” A ragged breath. Then, another laugh too loud for the grey light outside, too bright, a spark before it fizzles into, again, pained choking. “Nanami, remember last year… the job out in Yama… Yamaguchi?”

“Yes.”

“And we came back… Okkotsu was beginning his first year at the college… what I—what I told you?”

“…Yes.” A beat passes. A chair shifts on the linoleum floor and Nanami clears his throat. “I see.”

“I don’t want him to be so alone. I know I was never the strongest or the smartest or the most talented but I liked to think he let me in because I was there. Not because I understood. Maybe… Maybe because I didn’t. Nanami, please… he always try to stay so far away from the people he thinks he can’t love. Tell him… tell him—“

You break off and Nanami assures you with a steadfastness Satoru has counted on so many times before: “I will.” 

“…thank you.”

Eyes shutting tight, Satoru rests his brow against the heel of his hand. His head is aching, and a hard fist grabs his chest, squeezes his heart until it feels like it’ll burst. So this is how you’re really feeling. When you’re not smiling, this is what you are. Angry at the world, and heartbroken.

So terribly heartbroken.

And you couldn’t trust him with it? Because you thought he couldn’t handle it? 

He can take it. It’ll be okay because he’s the strongest. He has to be. 

I’m the strongest. I should be okay. I’m the strongest.

I’m the Strongest.

The headache gets worse so he gets up from that corner in the dead-end hallway, all the while three words replay in his head like a goddamn gramophone.

Nanami doesn’t come out of the room for a while. When he does, Satoru walks down the hall with takeout and a smile plastered on his face as if he had heard nothing at all.

.

At just past one-thirty AM, Satoru sits up from his cot and rubs at his eyes. After dinner, the both of them had forced themselves to go to sleep in order to have enough energy for their little late night excursion. He glances at you, a slumbering shape on the bed, and gets up, slowly sliding on the lights. They burn a dim orange, glowing on your face, and your eyebrows furrow as he touches your cheek.

“What?” you mumble, vexed, and he smiles.

“Are you ready?” he asks. A backpack is situated at the end of his bedframe and he reaches for it, unzipping it carefully as you crack your eyes open. “We’re going to go see the eclipse, remember?” Pulling out clothes he robbed from your room in the staff facility from when you used to work full time, he grabs your shoulder and shakes you gently. The gnarled roots under your skin feel strange against his fingers as you groan weakly. “Do you want five more minutes, Sleeping Beauty?”

You don’t answer, burying your face into your pillow and he shakes his head to himself. It’s going to be all right, he thinks. I planned for this setback.

Slipping into a dark long-sleeve, he parts the black-out curtains to let light come in. He checks his reflection in the bathroom mirror before running a hand through his hair and washing his hands with a cold stream of water. By the time he leaves the bathroom, you’re sitting up already, heel of your hand rubbing against your brow as you groan. In your other hand in your lap, there’s a splash of blood and a lone petal, and he rushes to your side instantly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even hear—“

“It came out easy,” you assure as he grabs a tissue to pick it off your hand and throw it into the receptacle at the table just beyond the foot of your bed. Wiping at your mouth roughly, he hears your complaints and your hand shoves against his shoulder to tell him to quit it. “Ah, I can do it myself!”

“Shh! Do you want every nurse storming in here while we conduct our super secret getaway?” he whispers, and your eyes fix on his. Dark circles mark your face like bruises, but that light is still the same—glimmering, bright, like twin suns and just as warm. Making sure your hands are clean, he wipes the invisible streaks of blood just to be sure before grabbing your clothes and setting them at the end of the bed.

You glance around the place sluggishly, at the paintings you never got to finish, and the books you haven’t finished reading, before settling on him. “What are we going to do about the… about the machines? And my IV…” 

“Oh, trust me. I may have bribed a nurse or two,” he confesses and you send him a scandalized look. He shrugs. “What? You told me a woman liked me and I couldn’t help but turn on my natural charm.”

“You’re awful,” you say without meaning it and he smiles as he moves your bed into a sitting position. You cough lightly, but sit up straighter as he carefully unhooks the huge bag and pump from your stand and gently slides it into the pocket in the backpack, resisting the urge to squish the pouch a bit. Strapping the pump in, he makes sure it’s secure as you peer around him to catch what he’s doing. “Is this… safe for me, you—you know, medically-speaking?”

“Nope.” He adjusts the tubing to avoid any kinks. “But, Purple gave me this backpack and she will come as soon as we come back to make sure you aren’t dying. And, if anything goes wrong, I promised her I’d come back as soon as possible.”

“Promised her?” you echo “I see. So that’s what Purple… was doing before my afternoon nap. I thought you guys traded suspicious looks.”

“Yeah. I’m pulling big strings. Now, c’mon, silly. Let’s get you dressed.”

You roll your eyes with a whistling breath. “Watch the tube… and c’mere, then, Gojo.”

He grabs the jacket first and does exactly as you order. Wrapping it around you, he helps you thread your arms through before zipping you up carefully as your shoulders begin to shake. Bending over, you reach blindly for the receptacle at the end of the bed and he hands it over to you.

A wad of saliva mixed with blood slips between your lips and you let out a low noise before forcing yourself to cough harshly again and again. Satoru watches. No matter how many times he sees you rip your throat up just to breathe with a bit less pressure in your chest, it doesn’t get any easier.

You manage to get up a whole magenta blossom. It blooms from your mouth like something out of a horror movie and lands in the receptacle before he’s wiping your mouth.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

They continue on.

Coat, next, zipped up, and a scarf, then he’s scooping up your legs to help you twist on the mattress until your feet are dangling off the edge. He weaves your legs through the sweat pants, careful not to let his gaze avert from his task even as the hospital gown trails up your legs. You shiver at the exposed skin and gooseflesh pimples your thighs as you lift up your hips to help with the effort. He pulls the hospital gown free from the waistband and lets it fall over the hem so you’re completely covered before falling back.

In a crouch, he pats your knees and makes the mistake of looking up only to find your eyes already on him, searching, nearly mystified. Satoru’s throat tightens. The faint light streaming from the window catches half of your face, as if half-divine. There’s a curiosity there, lingering, and the way you look at him makes him freeze in his spot.

Is this how Suguru saw you a thousand times before, a thousand lifetimes ago? Is this what he felt? 

Did he see the way your pupils dilate, the flare of your nostrils as you exhaled so quietly that it felt like a feather against his lips despite the distance between them? Did he see galaxies in your irises, home in the softness of your stare? Is that why he kissed you the last time he saw you? To memorialize their love for himself, to remember what it looked like when you loved him?  

Did he feel like he could fight dragons, crush demons, rip their world apart at the seams and rebuild it again with bloodied nails if it meant you would never cry again? Is that part of why he did it? So you would never be lonely again? 

Because if so, Satoru understands. 

Because if so, Satoru would do the same.

Because he always saw you as just pretty, because you had always been just his friend, and then his best friend’s girlfriend, and then his best friend, so there were always lines drawn in salt, scuffed and distorted over the years, but…

But in the light, tired and lost in his gaze, you’re nearly ethereal. The only reason he knows you’re not a goddess is because he’s still touching your knees, and your breath quivers, as if you’re just as disconnected from the world as he is in this moment.

Lips pressing together, he looks away, and the moment’s gone. 

He glances at the clock. 

How long has it been since he moved? It feels like hours.

Twenty-seven seconds.

Twenty-seven seconds of temptation, and then Satoru turned away. 

He slants to grab a pair of thick woolly socks to give himself something to do. You’re still watching him, head tilted down just so, and he carefully takes hold of your ankle.

He focuses on the little things: the iciness of your skin, the way you pick at the fabric of your sweatpants absently as you watch him work, the way you shiver a bit when he touches you.

He rubs heat back into the arch of your foot as you reach into your jacket slowly to carefully remove the nodes monitoring your vitals. You seem stiff to the bone, and your fingers are rigid with anticipated pain as you peel off the stickers. In the back of his mind, he remembers the days that feel like yesterday when you weren’t hooked up to so many machines to assure both you and him that you’re still alive.

Removing the cap for the oximeter from your finger, you shake yourself out a bit, clearing your throat. He slides one sock on, and then the other.

“How’re you feeling?” he finally utters.

It takes you a moment to answer. “Bottom half feels tingly. Usual these days. My body feels like a big giant bruise,” you inform quietly. Your voice is nothing more than a rasp. “Very warm and toasty, though… Thank you.”

“Just gotta get the shoes on and then we’ll teleport there.”

“Okay.” He helps you slip your feet in, something straight out of Cinderella, and then he stands up to take your hands. Your fingers slip into his palms, and he holds you so tightly as you slide off the bed. The instant your feet hit the floor, your grip intensifies and your head snaps down to the floor. You find your footing after a moment, and he lets go to crack open your window. Moving your plants aside, he climbs out to glance around. 

The air is crisp and cold, but not too bad for him. Even so, he’ll probably slip on a hoodie before they leave and he ducks back in to your room to do so, tugging it down his waist before grabbing the backpack.

“Arms through,” he instructs, slipping the backpack onto your shoulders. Guiding you closer, he helps you shuffle as close as possible towards him before turning around and bending over. “Alright, climb on. We’re going.” 

Your arms touch his shoulders, his hands shoot out behind him, and you fall.

Fingers hooking on your thighs, he boosts you up and your arms wrap around him, your own fingers wrapped so tightly around his collar that it nearly chokes him. Haphazardly stepping through the windows, his fingers sink into the fabric of your sweats. Your breath is warm against the shell of his ear, and he can feel your heart pulsing against his back as he turns to look at you. 

He smiles. “How’s it feel?”

“I’m still not sure if you’re going to let me die.” You press your face closer to his head and your arms tighten. “But the wind feels so good. So, so good.”

“That’d be too undignified,” he teases, and then he jumps. Time seems to slow as it always does when he’s about to teleport. He imagines the staff facility on the campus, quiet as a cemetery at this time of night, and his heart lurches forward. For a moment, his senses leave him all at once. He can’t taste or feel or see anything for a fraction of a second, then it comes to him in blinding speed. His hearing, as always, is first, then his eyes, smell and then touch and smell.

His foot lands on stone, as if he’s just finished a small skip, and he grins as he sweeps the courtyard. No one, as planned. The building’s to his immediate right, and he climbs the steps, using your knee to nudge the door open.

“That was fun,” you comment. “Convenient, too. Blink of an eye, and you’re somewhere else.”

“You can’t even begin to imagine how many lines I’ve skipped because of it,” he comments. The lights are all off, and he heads for the kitchen immediately to grab all the food he’s bought. Setting you down on the kitchen counter, he takes out another canvas bag and stuffs all of the food in.

Daifuku with of all kinds of fillings in the fridge, fresh dorayaki, canned coffee and aloe drinks, sweet soymilk and other wagashi they used to feast on when they were younger. Mostly because Satoru would buy enough to feed a kingdom so he always had something on hand for his overactive brain. You watch him with wide eyes as he moves around with such purpose one could think he was preparing to fight an army, but as soon as he finishes, he flashes you a smile.

“I think you’re going to like where we’re going a lot, silly.”

“Didn’t have to buy stuff,” you mutter, fingers playing with the tube leading into your backpack for a moment.

“You haven’t eaten in weeks. I thought maybe we could at least try. Maybe not now, but at the end of the night, before we go back. Just in case.”

“I can’t eat, though.”

“Don’t know until I stuff it down your throat,” he replies cheerily, and you smile at him so brightly it’s almost like you aren’t sick. Then, that smile turns into a cough, a fist in front of your lips, and your expression is frozen into one of exasperation before it flickers into strained. He sets down his bag, already knowing what comes next.

You make a hacking sound, deep in your throat, and he shifts you closer to the sink so you can lean over and throw up. Gagging, it comes in red and clear torrents, the cursed energy spilling out of your body nearly making it incinerating to even touch you as you clutch the edge of the sink basin. 

You fall to your elbows, and Satoru eases you off the counter so he can hold you up instead of the cramping body contortion you sink into. Cupping the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his thumb sweeps soothingly over your root-invested spine, tossing the ends of the scarf over your shoulder and out of the way.

Settling a hand on your hip, he presses you against the countertop so you don’t fall, and hopes your legs can hold you up long enough for him to reach for the hand towel. You spit just as he manages to grab it, snapping back into position and peering over your shoulder to inspect how much you’ve coughed up. You shudder and a tortured moan wrenches out of your throat as you sink, forehead against the cool metal.

You’re scorching to touch, but he tightens his hold on you anyway, setting the towel aside for just a moment. Carefully, he pulls you back up and you let out an drained whine, but he shushes you quietly, turning you around and guiding your head over his shoulder so you don’t stare at the rot any longer.

Satoru knows you would, even if you pretend like you aren’t plagued with morbid, self-destructive curiosity.

Looking into the sink, he counts a few petals and three whole flowers, and you’re quivering against him as he wraps his arm around you. 

“Alright, lean back for me,” he whispers into your ear, and you obey. His arm around you crooks so he supports your head, the other grabbing the towel again. Exhaustion seems to have sluiced through you, and your eyes are nearly unfocused as he dabs at your mouth carefully. His blue eyes focus on the gentle curve of your lips, and your cheeks puff up before you swallow tightly and let out a shaking breath.

“You’re really close,” you mumble in that exhale. He tilts your chin to the light to make sure he hasn’t missed a spot, and your eyelids flutter as the corners of his lips quirk up. His Six Eyes pick up a muted yellow emanating from you, and it’s so warm against his skin that he can’t help but relish in the feeling. “You smell nice.”

“Good. I took a shower before I came today. Well, yesterday,” he amends softly. “Alright, let’s go before you hack up your other lung.”

“Funny.” Nonetheless, he scoops you back up onto his back and he rinses down the sink as you rest your head against his. He feels you breathing steadily, much easier now than before. Red swirls down the drains, and he watches the magenta petals slowly reveal their true colours. There’s a flash of white in the center of each one, and he wonders silently what flower it is and what it means.

Maybe he’ll find out some day.

When the kitchen’s back to the state they entered, he grabs the bag of food and holds onto your legs tightly as your arms around his neck shift and pull him closer. 

This time, when he teleports, it’s not as jarring. Walking around the balcony, he makes sure no one’s in the area before checking that the door to the roof is locked and heading back out into the night air, towards where they can see the moon clearest.

“Hey, open your eyes,” he whispers over his ear, and your head shifts.

“Hm? Oh!” He feels you wriggle, but he doesn’t let you go as he walks closer to the spot he’s set up. Near the railing, a blanket surrounded by pillows is laid out surrounded by a few space heaters. The moon is hanging perfectly in front of them, and the light illuminates the forests in silver as a gentle wind whistles through. Tranquil, the only sound is his footsteps on wood as you manage to pull your legs free with a harsh twist of your torso. Your hand slaps against the railing and he whirls around to hold you up but you grit your teeth. “I can do it.”

Breathing in deeply, you pull yourself past him using mostly your arms. Your feet drag as if they’re not really attached to a living body but you still move steady onward, and he walks ahead to turn on the heaters and set the food down as far away as he can so it doesn’t spoil too quickly.

“Satoru,” you breathe as if for the first time,” it’s so fucking beautiful up here.” Looking up, his heartstrings twinge. Your face is bathed almost entirely in silver, and it drapes down your body like silk, illuminating the cord of your throat he can see above the scarf, the strength of your hands. A smile brighter than even the most blinding sun rays comes across your face and he finds that the moon pales in comparison as your knees begin to give.

Reaching forward, he helps you sink down slowly, and then sit down, legs hanging off the edge and then you’re leaning to rest your elbows on the middle bar of the wooden railing. You can’t stop staring at the moon, and Satoru can’t stop staring at you as he opens the box of daifuku and pops one into his mouth. 

“The eclipse should be starting in a few minutes,” he says, checking his watch. 2:10. Four minutes to go. You finally tear your eyes away from the moon to look at him.

“I forgot…” you muse. “I forgot how bright… the moon was.”  

He settles in beside you and offers a canned coffee, but you shake your head. He cracks it open for himself. 

“We’re about to watch the moon change,” he notes. “But I read that it’ll last six hours.”

“Really?” Excited, you look up at the moon again. The lunar rays outline your already-pronounced eye bags but it also makes you look more beatific. “That’s just proof… our time here on Earth is so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It really makes you—makes you think how much we really matter. Which doesn’t seem like a lot, compared to things like a… fucking lunar eclipse.”

The moon’s opinion doesn’t matter more than mine, he thinks. “Well, while we’re waiting for your next epiphany to hit you,” he says instead, “you never answered my question.”

You smile, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What if we removed the flowers bit by bit, rather than all at once?” he asks. Your gaze snaps to him, but he only regards you honestly. “That gives you a fighting chance.” Your eyes widen imperceptibly, and he grabs another mochi ball and takes a bite.

“The roots and flowers are too entangled in my chest to be removed safely. It’s either they remove my lungs completely, or not at all, and finding a… match for one lung is hard enough, much less two perfect lungs…” You trail off and shrug. “Well, that’d take forever… and I wouldn’t get much… longer, anyway. I’m a sorcerer. I always knew… I was going to die, so why not die on my own t-terms?”

He frowns. “Why not try?”

“Give me your phone.”

He does so, and watches you type in a query you must’ve typed before with how quick your lethargic fingers fly over the screen before you’re shoving it back towards him and leaning forward on the railing, chin to your forearms. You don’t even look at him, as if you don’t want to watch him crumble.

He reads: The first year after the transplant is the most critical period wrought with surgical complications, chances of rejection, and infection… Although there are some reports of some people living for 20 years post-transplant, many people do not make it past 10 years and only half make it past 5…

His stomach curdles. “Five years is better than nothing.”

“Five years worrying when my lungs are going to… kick it,” you correct. “Besides, my ribs are mangled by the roots. And my heart. My stomach. My spine. I’m undernourished, exhausted, and everything in here”—you gesture slowly around your abdomen—“is doing overtime. My body’s too weak to handle any kind of surgery that wouldn’t heal me… immediately.” 

Your eyes find his, and it’s as if lightning strikes through him like a spear—piercing cold and electrifying. You’re beginning to blue in the lips like you’re freezing to death, but he’s sweating under the blast of the heaters. 

Pulling off his hoodie, he drapes it around your shoulders. You don’t react anymore than: “Sucks, but that’s how it is.”

A few more minutes pass by in silence. Their knees knock into one another, and Satoru can’t stop looking at you as you breathe in the home you left months ago, head lifted to the inky universe.

“You know I can tell when you’re—when you’re angry with me,” you utter, not looking at him. “No matter how much you smile at me, you’re still too passive aggressive to cover it up.”

The words spill out of his mouth as you lower your gaze to him. “I’m sorry.” No sense in lying. 

“That’s okay.” You smile for a moment, like he hasn’t said something worth ruining a night over, but when you look up at the stars, it fades. Wistful, you cock your head at the moon that hasn’t gone away just yet and lower your chin to your arms again. “It’s not really something that was… fair of me to ask anyway.” 

.

Just as the moon turns yellow, he remembers something. Bending back to root through your backpack, he excuses himself. You frown. “What are you—“

“I got a camera for this occasion,” he announces, withdrawing the camera and a plastic bag, leaning back to snap a quick picture of you. You squint at the flash, mouth opened in an incredulous smile and face half-turned away, before the photo rolls out. “Like the one you used to carry around.”

“Some memories to hold on to, huh.” You reach for the camera and your fingers wrap around it, aiming it right at him. A flash and two peace signs later, another image joins the one of you Satoru slides into the plastic zip bag. “Hold on. I want to take another one.”

“We should do one of both of us.”

“Ugh, fine… I don’t look good at all, though.“

“Too late.” He snatches the camera from you and sticks out his hand, dragging an arm around your shoulders and you lean into him, temple against his cheek as he snaps another photo, and then another of him making a stupid face. Another of you mid-laugh. You’re wheezing for air as he keeps grabbing the polaroids as fast as he can with the arm that’s around your shoulder, leading to a bunch of jostling that has you in stitches at his frantic panic whenever the new photo chugs out of the slit.

When he’s had his fill of making you laugh, Satoru leaves you alone to look at the moon. He can’t stop grinning stupidly with every photo and while you watch the moon slowly descent into the earth’s shadow, he shuffles through the photos he just took of them together, trying to brand them to memory.

The way he looks at you in these photos makes him believe in something. In something that could’ve been there if they had more time, and he could convince you to open your heart up to a new possibility.

.

Another hour passes. The moon hangs a strange transition between black and blood red and a paler peach orange. A glimmering yellow dot sparkles below it, and he wonders if that’s Mars.

The forests seem almost hauntingly quiet, and no one has spoken in the darkness. You regard the moon, so enraptured, and more photos have joined the zip bag, but they’re mostly of you. He’s managed to sneak them in by turning off the flash and upping the brightness settings so it’d still be visible, and he hopes you never realize that he’s got them. 

Satoru has never been interested in astronomy, but the stars in your eyes are changing his mind.

He’s dug his hand into the bag of dorayaki already. He remembers it’s supposed to be for you, too, but his hands are too empty without the camera, his brain going a mile a minute and the air absolutely quiet with nothing. 

Twenty minutes ago, you asked him to help you take off your coat so you can pull on his hoodie, and haven’t moved since zipping yourself back up. The air smells only of canned coffee and the stinging wind carrying the scent of cedar. Feet swinging, he drapes his arms over the railing and looks up at the red moon.

It is pretty. Magnificent, and ominous, almost. The night is so much darker without the moon. Sheesh, colder, too. I wonder if you’re feeling okay. Maybe I should check, but you don’t seem to be shaking. Worst comes to worst, I could up the level on the space heaters…

“I don’t think I ever got to hear his last words,” you muse quietly, voice cracking, rousing him from his monologue. His head swings to you. Your eyes are barely open as you rest your cheek against your forearm, and you don’t look at Satoru despite your head turned towards him. Instead, he can watch the pieces of you fall apart without your scrutiny. “I used to think… that I didn’t care.”

“Do you want me to tell you?” he asks slowly as you continue to stare blankly over his ear. Your chest stutters in its inhale and the exhale is just as shaky as you smile a bit to yourself. He takes that as answer, and as he speaks, he sees Suguru’s smile—bright against the darkness of the alleyway, and a reminder of a simpler time. Satoru’s heart quickens from the memory “‘At least curse me a little at the very end.’”

You’re quiet for a moment, as if soaking that in. Then, you draw yourself up and sigh. “That sounds like him.”

You say it fighting off a laugh, even though it wracks your body with such intense pain you can barely breathe. You begin to wheeze not even a second in, and still, your face is cracked into an agonizing smile as you blink, tears slipping down your cheeks. Your eyes squeeze shut and your body goes stiff as you cough, hands flying over your lips. Your shoulders shake so uncontrollably it’s like an earthquake in your body, but Satoru cannot find it in him to calm you down as you hunch over yourself.

It comes in its own course, until you’re nothing but a gasping body, crying into bloodied palms cupping purple flowers, and the low sobs that spill and stutter out of your throat makes Satoru wish he never told you.

“‘At least curse me a little at the very end,’” you repeat to yourself, voice raw and iron-like, and your eyes finally rise to meet his. Nothing but hollow purple pierces through him once more. “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds like him.” 

An apology bubbles at his lips, but you continue before he can even begin. Your hands fall to to your laps, and you look at the decaying flowers, thumbs stroking the petals. “I could never make him truly happy… could I? Just like he said… nothing would’ve been good enough for him while we lived in this kind of world. No matter how many times I sat by him while he swallowed… swallowed those curses, held his hand, held him, I would have never been… enough to make him laugh from his heart.” Your tears cast dark shadows. “I held him, Satoru, with all my might… and I still felt him slip away between my fingers.”

That’s how Satoru learns you were there that day, December 24th, not a snowflake in sight. Just a few metres away, you stood for only a moment before you walked away from the man you loved so he could die without any regret, at the cost of your own guilt eating you alive.

No one speaks after that. Satoru cleans your hands slowly, carefully, giving attention to each finger, before swiping your lips, and then he wipes your tears away but you’re not crying anymore.

You just look up at the moon emptily and he scoots closer in hopes to keep your returning trembling at bay.

“Ten years is a very… long time to love someone.” You break the silence. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. Fifteen, thirty minutes? He looks at you, and your lips press into a thin smile. He lifts his arm so you can scoot up close next to him. Your eyes never leave his face, regarding him with new clarity. “I just… realized.”

“Ten years is a very long time for anything,” he replies quietly, their faces very close. Their noses brush, and a warmth spreads through his cheeks as he presses the tip of your nose against his. You don’t pull away. Instead, you almost lean closer. Your nose is cold against his hot face, and he rubs it slowly with his own, trying to send heat back into your skin.

“A very long time to… wait.” Your eyes flutter shut, and your breath is warm over his lips as you slowly tilt your head so their foreheads meet. His hand squeezes your waist. You smell like the hospital, but there’s still the fragrance of the fresh-cut grass and herbs clinging to your skin as he moves his head just to the side so his nose presses into your frozen cheek. Your arm moves as if dragging through honey until it’s wrapped around his neck, palm flat against his shoulder, just as their brows press against one another. 

Something ignites inside his chest, incinerating the rot that seems to grow inside his own chest—it’s his dread, he realizes a moment later. An ugly knot of dread for what’s to come, the guilt, the cold grief that’s just out of reach. 

It’ll unfurl soon, he knows, but for now, he welcomes the relief you bring him.

In this moment, you are his, and he is yours, and that is all that matters.

His eyes close. His cheeks are burning hotter than the heaters surrounding them, and he feels a smile pulling at his lips as your fingers curl against the back of his neck.

“When will people… stop waiting?” you ask him, hushed like a secret.

Eyes opening, he answers you in the same soft voice, “Probably when they die.”

Your eyes crack open once more and he catches a sliver between your heavy lids. You’re so close he sees every detail of your irises, the pores of your eye bags, the way memories flicker through your pupils like fish in a river.

Your exhausted smile grows more genuine—something inside you seems to rear its bright little head, but it’s sad, and he realizes, then, what you must’ve been thinking. Words fumble at his mouth, but he doesn’t let anything slip as you lift your face away to rest your head against his shoulder.

.

You’re dozing against him. Satoru is staring up at the moon in your stead. It’s nearly fully that famous shade of dark blood red, but not quite. He can’t hear anything except the buzz of the space heaters and your breathing. His arm is still wrapped tight around you, holding you flush against him. He’s wished he’d done it so many times before that now, he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

You’re dying. Even as you rest against him, he feels it. The weakness in your body, the way you’ve turned ghost-like. The strength of your Cursed Energy has become more prominent now that you don’t have the energy to channel it properly, and it’s centred so strongly in your chest that he can feel it poking curiously at him, leaving little marks, a souvenir for when you’re gone.

His fingers dig into your side. You let out a noise, head shifting, and he rips his gaze away away from the sky as your hand falls away from where it had rested around his neck into his lap.

“Satoru?” you whisper brokenly, and he nods, smiling. He pulls you closer, but their bodies are so pressed against each other that it only serves to make you huff a bit.

“Hey. You’re still with us, don’t worry,”

“Not worried,” you mumble, lifting your head with difficulty. “Just glad you’re here.” You tilt your face to the moon. “It’s still… red, huh…” You shake, your hand at the hem of his shirt twisting tightly. He reaches to squeeze your arm and hopes it’ll be enough now. “Pretty.” Throat dry, he does not answer. His white hair falls into his eyes as you look up at him, and he decays at the vulnerability in your gaze. “Aren’t you glad… that we saw the eclipse?”

Jaw clenching, he nods and tries his best to smile. Your hand lets go of his shirt and you shuffle up close enough that your other arm sneaks around his waist. Touching his chin with trembling fingers, your eyes glitter in the darkness of his shadow.

“I’m going to miss this. The moon, stars, how… fucking short… ’n’ beautiful life is,” you finally whisper, throat tight. “Makes shit worth living for. Maybe… won’t miss it… the most… but, top three.”

“Top three?” he echoes. “Top three sounds pretty good to me.”

“And, y’know what, Satoru?” you continue in the same low, husky tone, as if you’re about to change his world one more time.

He drops to the lowest, quietest voice he can manage and moves his head closer. Their noses nearly bump into each other again, and you smile as he quirks an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re… going to miss me… more.” 

Your hand on his waist travels up his shoulder and he feels the last of your strength in your muscles as you pull him towards you. Letting you, his arms wrap around your waist as your other arm shoots around his neck, clinging on so hard that he’s sure his spine might break. 

Flattening his palms against your uneven back, he closes his eyes and slides a hand to cradle your head close.

“And promise… me something,” you breathe into his ear. Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and a shiver shoots down his spine.

“Anything.”

“When I kick it,” you whisper, “take my body, and bury me… yourself.”

Throat swelling shut, Satoru’s glad you can’t see the way the blood drains from his face as he nods and holds you tighter. “I will.”

.

“One more photo for the road?” he asks. You lift your head from his chest, and he looks as you reach to sweep his lips with cold, trembling fingers. He smiles, his hand on your thigh squeezing meaningfully even though you can barely feel it now. Your arms are bundled between your chest and his, and he hauls your legs on his thighs more securely up his lap, arm tightening around your torso.

“Satoru,” you murmur, tilting your head to him. His eyes never move from yours as he picks up the camera, and your hand falls from his lips. “I’m glad… that it was you.”

He snaps the shot and the only sound that fills the silence is the camera chugging out the polaroid. Your eyes are dark, murky and unfocused, and he feels your stammering inhale in his very lungs as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I’m happy it was you, too,” he whispers. You search his gaze for only a moment, and then turn your head to the moon once more. 

Lowering the camera to the floor, he sneaks his other arm around you and rests his chin atop of your head, eyes sliding shut.

.

Nanami, Yaga, and Ijichi approach, dress shoes tapping against linoleum floors. Satoru and Shoko say nothing to them as they join in watching through the glass doors.

Satoru doesn’t like the room they’ve moved you to. It’s too full of machines, too open to passersby who could just look in if the curtains aren’t drawn, and even then…

It smells too clinical here. Too full of artificial light. The ICU is a mechanical sort of silence than the quiet peace of the dead-end hallway. There is no warmth, no books, no paintings. Your plants have been removed, and Nanami has taken all of them into his apartment except the red tulips which rest on the dinner table in Satoru’s kitchen.

You stopped being able to breathe on your own only a day after the eclipse. That was two days ago, and the ventilator is doing nothing more than prolonging your agony. Soon, the growths will block your lungs entirely, suffocating you from the inside out. 

The doctors have stopped taking scans.

“It’s only a matter of time, now,” Shoko had said. “Her directive says we let her go as soon as she can’t come back.” Quieter: “Her pulse ox has been dropping. It won’t be long.”

Ijichi’s face is stony. Satoru doesn’t know why he focuses on him out of everyone. Leaning against the nurse’s station, he stares blankly at the Assistant Director’s. Maybe because he thought he’d be a wreck. Out of all of them, Ijichi’s the most emotional, but his lips are set firm from where he stands between Nanami and their principal.

Maybe Satoru’s just looking for permission to fall apart, but that’d be stupid. 

I’m the strongest. I’ll be fine.

“I’m going to go in,” he announces. No one protests. Nanami sits down and crosses one leg over the other, fingers steepled and eyes indecipherable. Shoko sits beside him. There’s the faint scent of smoke clinging to her lab coat. 

Ijichi dips his head, but doesn’t sit and Yaga excuses himself to talk to the nurse about your condition.

Satoru sanitizes his hands, approaches the door, and pulls it open before stepping in and sliding it shut behind him. 

Click. Hiss. 

The sound of the ventilator is the only thing that occupies the room. That and the monitors. It’s very dark, despite it being the middle of the day. Mostly because you can’t open your eyes wide enough to withstand the sun anymore, so Satoru had asked the nurses to bring the same blackout curtains from your room here. The lights are dimmed until it’s only an orange glow right behind your bed. 

Click. Hiss.

Sitting down, he doesn’t take hold of your hand just in case you’re sleeping. The intubation tube rests on a pile of towels on your chest, and it takes a long time before your eyes open and your head tilts just enough to look. Your hand twists on top of the covers until your palm is tilted open.

He slips fingers in, takes hold. The feel of your skin making everything worse. You’re colder than you should be—it’s sweltering in this room, enough that Satoru is already beginning to sweat even through his short-sleeve—and your fingers just barely twitch against the back of his hand, tracing strange shapes.

You blink, tapping his knuckle, and he frowns.

“What’s up?” Withdrawing, he feels your nail scrape against his flesh and he looks down. Curiously, he takes your hand and places it on top of his so your fingers can touch the lines of his palm. “Are you spelling something out?” he asks, amused, glancing up again.

Another blink, slower this time.

He leans forward on his elbow to touch your cheek before resting his cheek against his fist.

“Alright, give it your best shot.” 

Your eyelids flutter, lips trembling in a weak smile. Your index finger begins to trace shapes, kanji, into his palm. Your chest rises and fall slowly, pumped full of air by a machine hooked to your lungs, forcing breath into you as your writing grows sloppy by the passing second but you still persist.

ANGRY?

“Angry?” he repeats, and you blink slowly again, fingers insistent on grabbing his palm. Folding his fingers over yours, he arches his eyebrows. “If I was angry at a terminally ill patient, that’d make me the asshole here.” Your eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows rearranging in what he recognizes as your laugh in silence. More seriously, his hold on you tightens and he lifts his head to brush his fingers over your brow. You tilt your head more to him, gaze murky warm. “How’re you feeling?”

It takes a while, but he feels your hand shuffle back to trace your answer on his hand.

BETTER

“Better. Yeah?”

Another lethargic blink. Yes.

“It’s because of me, right? I knew it. I knew it. We should tell Shoko—I’m the newest medical innovation in town,” he proclaims, and his smile begs to slip off his face but he only forces it back on, shoves it into place. Your eyebrows move again, like you’re struggling to hold back your laugh. Your eyes slip shut and do not open again. 

Your face goes lax a moment later, and your fingers loosen a bit, but he doesn’t let go. He just wants to touch your face and trace the lines into his memory. 

Satoru stretches his thumb along the swell of your bottom lip while carefully avoiding the tube. He runs his knuckles down your cheek. His fingers brush your pulse point along your neck, and he feels the slow, weak beat.

Click. Hiss.

He thinks you’re asleep for a while, until your finger drags over the flesh of his palm and he looks down, hand lifting from your face. 

“Hey, I’m still here,” he whispers, and your face turns towards him slightly, the tube in your mouth shuffling. He reaches forward, cupping your face and holding you still. “Hey. Don’t move. Your lungs are weaker than the rest of you and I’m not about to watch you die.” Something grabs onto the front of his shirt near his stomach and he looks down to see your fingers hooking on the cotton of his tee, twisting it weakly. “Oh, sorry.”

He draws back and slips his palm back into yours. Your index finger taps against the heel of his hand before your nail drags deliberately. One stroke. Then another, and another. Gojo wishes your eyes were open, because then he would be able to determine what the rest of the sentence could spell out before you’re done, but he’s patient. 

HERE

“Here?” You tap on his hand. Yes. “What’s here?”

YOU AND ME

“You and me,” he repeats thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get that. At least… now you can see Suguru again, right?” Your hand goes still and he looks at your face, reaching to touch your cheek again. You’re placid—doll-like, eyes shut, living dead. “I’m a bit jealous of that, but you should rest easy. It’s been a hard few months, hasn’t it?”

Another weak twitch of your finger on his hand.

“No matter what happens, don’t think I’m angry at you, or the choices you’ve made,” he continues. “As long as you let me stay here, I won’t waste a single second of it, okay?” Tap. He squeezes your hand so tightly your eyebrows twitch, even as you slip away from him. “For all your saying that you’re weaker than me, I never thought that. Not really.” Satoru raises your hand to his lips and he closes his eyes. “Being the strongest is pretty lonely. Used to be so fucking cocky about it, huh. Thought no one could touch me or the people I cared about because everyone would be too scared.”

Your fingers curl against his palm and he lowers his head to press your knuckles against his brow.

“I was wrong. I’d give anything to have you both back, but I can’t, and I hate it. You’re supposed to be with me at the top. I don’t want to be alone again.” His eyes are burning from the strain of keeping them open, but he refuses to miss a second of you being alive when the time is trickling like sand in an hourglass. He feels it like a heavy stare on his back, wondering if this next breath will be the last one before your brain finally decides to shut down. Your organs have been shutting down for nearly weeks now. He knows it’s out of pure selfishness that they’re dragging precious moments into agonizing hours. 

He knows you’re exhausted. 

Resting his chin on your fingers, he swallows. “I don’t know how to let you go. I wished I’d come sooner. I was careless. I know that. We could’ve had more time…”

Your fingers squeeze his as tight as you can before letting go. Somehow, he hears your voice in his ear. Something about being grateful for the time they did have.

“You were right, silly.” He chuckles to himself, bitter, anguished, and lowers your hand back to the bed, not letting go yet. “Ten years is a long time to wait. I let you down, but I’ll make sure you go easy. I promise.”

Satoru lays his head down on his forearm and he swears he catches your lips pull into the faintest smile. He stays there for hours, watching your face, stretching up to touch your unmoving face. The only sound is his steady breaths, the beep of your monitors and the click-hiss of your ventilator. 

It’s 1:04 PM when he falls asleep to the sleepy circles you trace into his wrist

It’s 6:22 PM when only one of them wakes up.

.

At 11:00 AM the next morning, during one of the hourly tests, they declare you brain-dead. With the announcement of your directive being honoured by your chosen proxy, Satoru himself, classes are cancelled and they are scheduled to take you off life support at six.

Ijichi brings them lunch and dinner. Satoru doesn’t eat. Only sits by your side, leaned back into the chair and looking at you while he still can until the clock ticks and ticks and ticks towards doomsday. The kids come to say final goodbyes while he watches on. Inumaki, as always, brings Panda through his phone, and Satoru wishes there could’ve been some way to sneak Panda into a high-class hospital just so their last moments together aren’t cheapened by a screen.

Shoko enters five minutes before it’s time, hand finding his shoulder and he looks up just long enough to catch her blank stare resting on your face.

She doesn’t say anything, only moves to the other side of the bed and sits down in the other chair.

The doctor pumps you full of sedation drugs, so you won’t feel any of the pain, unhooks the machines, and extubates you, explaining all the while what he’s doing just to fill the silence. As he pulls the tube from your throat, something in Satoru turns icy when a purple petal is plastered to the side of the plastic, but the doctor does not acknowledge it any more than murmuring that he will give them privacy.

Your rattling breaths echo in his ears as he watches the numbers slowly drop, but even your inhales fade to nothing more than soft, slight wheezes. The tape has left a strange mark around your mouth, and you’re unmoving otherwise. Shoko gently reaches and touches the eye bags that are, for once, worse than hers before shaking her head and pulling back. Everyone else waits outside.

Hours pass by in torturous years. 

Satoru wears the same stony expression the whole while, finally surrendering into his desire to hold your hand. 

His heart hardens. He goes completely still. Shoko talks but he can’t really hear anything except the slow beeps of your monitor once you pass certain thresholds. 

There are nurses waiting outside. They’ve grown used to the company, he thinks. He thinks one or two are crying. Soon enough, they’ll come in to turn off the machines tracking your vitals so the sounds don’t drive them crazy, banging in home that you’re dead, dead, dead.

After a while, Satoru realizes you aren’t quite breathing, although your chest moves. Sometimes, there’s a gasping sound, like someone surprised the breath out of you and you’re inhaling sharply to replace it, and he imagines your fingers twitching against his hand one last time.

It’s very slow. Much slower than he imagined it to be. Maybe you’re still fighting. Maybe you don’t want to go.

Satoru can’t imagine why. Where you’re going, there’s no pain, or exhaustion, or blood. Where you’re going, Suguru waits.

He leans against his hand, elbow on the slight incline of your bed. Letting go of your hand, he touches your face, feels the soft puff of your breath, the curve of your jaw. You’ve lost so much weight from the sickness you barely look like yourself, but you’re still you. The cursed energy is still yours. His Six Eyes sees it. His soul feels it.

It tangles with his own where he touches you, and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. 

He wants to sleep, let time pass, and wake up to you dead.

It seems a much better alternative to watching you slip away, but he’s always been selfish when it came to personal affairs.

.

You die two hours later.

Shoko closes her eyes and leans back into her chair as the nurse comes in to turn off the droning monitor. Her face is dry and she takes long, measured breaths as if trying to temper something swirling inside her. Satoru’s hard heart cracks as he squeezes your hand to see if you’ll wake up. It doesn’t quite sink in, even though he can hear someone crying outside, and when your limp hand doesn’t react at all, he shakes his head and gets up, pulling his sunglasses off the collar of his shirt and sliding them back onto his face.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and rakes his face over your body, your face.

He’s seen a dozen dead bodies before, maybe more. You look just like he did on December 24th. At peace, younger. Like you’re glad the suffering is over, and Satoru turns his face away sharply and leaves the room. He doesn’t know what to say and he’s not sure if his voice is still here. 

Everything feels dry and dull and grey.

“Sensei,” Itadori whispers wetly, reaching out a hand, making him stop. The students are all sitting in a small area, but they stand upon seeing him leave the room, and he gives them a plastic smile that makes all of them flinch. Maki is scowling furiously at the ground as Inumaki takes hold of her bicep but she flings the hand off and stalks away, hiding her red face.

“It’s going to be okay,” he tells them as Kugisaki runs after Maki. He watches the two go before turning his attention back on the students. “The important thing is that she didn’t suffer. Arrangements will be made, but there won’t be any rush, alright?” The words feel lacking, but he still manages to smile. “It’s been a long day. Go home. Rest, shower, eat. Let’s remember that she doesn’t want us to be here, slumping around looking like idiots. She wants you to all to take care of yourselves.” He arches his eyebrows insistently at his students, but they don’t seem to hear him.

They’re only looking through the glass doors at your coolling corpse, at Shoko who stands, and speaks to the doctor when he comes back in.

Fushiguro is the only one really looking at him, and the teenager has a silent question in his stare. 

Satoru shakes his head, and Megumi nods.

“Classes are cancelled for the rest of the week,” Yaga adds. “Ijichi will drive you all back to the college in thirty minutes. Make sure you tell the girls.” He directs this to Inumaki, who nods.

“Salmon.”

Later, Megumi finds him smoking a cigarette leaning against Shoko’s car. Satoru’s never liked the taste of the stuff so he doesn’t really know why he’s smoking other than the fact he doesn’t know what to do. 

Up is down, left is right, and you’re dead. 

Nothing seems right, but Megumi gives him a good excuse to stop. Flinging the cig to the ground, he stomps out the ember and re-arranges his expression into that shielded smile of his, but it feels a bit weaker. Sharp, janky, wrong.

“Why haven’t you gone home yet? Ijichi should’ve taken you all back by now,” Satoru says wearily as Fushiguro stops before him, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I stayed behind to look for you,” informs Megumi. He looks a bit fractured, but the boy’s never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Satoru makes a mental note to dig into his psyche at a later date, and stretches an arm out to wrangle the boy into a hug against his side.

For all of his complaints and mumbles and scowls, Megumi’s body still relaxes a bit against his, and even though he doesn’t hug him back, when he tells him, “You should go home and get some sleep, too. These past few months haven’t been easy on you, either,” Satoru feels a part of his old self raise its bloody head. 

Glancing down at a head of spiky hair, he knocks his knuckles into his student’s skull. “Have you been keeping an eye on me?”

Megumi crosses his arms, glares over Satoru’s elbow, but even his voice is quieter. “You need to take care of yourself.”

Satoru smiles again. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “But you’re not worried about me, are you, Fushiguro?”

Megumi ducks his head and doesn’t answer any more than, “Someone has to pick up the slack, now.”

.

“Thanks, Ijichi,” Satoru says with a huff, digging the shovel into the ground and stepping on the metal edge. “Not every day you help me carry a dead body and dig a grave, huh.”

“No, sir,” Ijichi replies. He sounds a bit hoarse and tired as he wipes at his brow.

It’s been two days since you’ve died. The college grounds feels a lot less lively. He took a walk in the gardens yesterday, and saw Yaga planting new flowers. He had strode past and ignored the tears on his sensei’s face, and absently wonders now why he hasn’t cried yet as he grabs the shovel and yanks it out of the dirt, tossing it to Ijichi.

It feels kind of stupid, but despite how eviscerated everything inside him feels, he just can’t.

Either way, he’ll deal with it when it becomes a problem.

Satoru wipes at his brow, too, with a heavy sigh, and heads to where a cloth-covered shape is resting on the ground. Your corpse is light in his arms as he bridal carries you to the hole he’s just dug into the grass. It looks suspicious as hell, but it’d probably be even worse if he’d been walking around with a dead body over his shoulder, stitched back together after an autopsy by your best friend. 

Good thing they’re only in the forests outside the college campus. There won’t be any civilians for miles.

“You can go,” he says over his shoulder, setting you down by the hole they’ve dug. He takes in a deep breath to calm himself and Ijichi’s footsteps hesitate before beginning and fading away moments later. Falling to his knees, Satoru begins to carefully unfold the cloth just enough that he can see your face and chest. 

He squints behind his blindfold at the ripples of energy still seeping from the stitches along your chest. Sinking his hands into the lush, cold grass, he twists the blades with rigid fingers at the stench of rot coming from the curse before he draws back.

Hands on his lap, he stares at your face. You look frozen in time, eyes closed, skin clean, and there’s that unnatural stillness about you that only comes with the dead. It’s strange. He probably couldn’t have imagined someone so vivacious could be so motionless if he hadn’t seen it first with Suguru.

He had asked not to hear the results of your autopsy. Not now, maybe not ever. It’d be fresh lemon juice in a weeping wound. All he knows is that the curse clings to your corpse, and Shoko could only remove the growths that were no longer being fed for examination.

“Weird that this is where we’ve found ourselves,” he begins humourlessly. “With how we were living, Suguru always said I’d die first. Doing something stupid, being too cocky.” He slides a hand into his pocket and withdraws something he’d snipped this morning from the last plant you had grown with your Technique. A red tulip with a short stem that’s a bit crushed, and beginning to decay, but… everything can’t be perfect.

“I never thought I’d outlive you.”

Reaching forward, he places the tulip gently on your chest, takes your cold arms that are just beginning to loosen up again from rigor mortis, and folds your hands over the stem.

“Eternal love, and fame,” he repeats to himself. The energy nearly swallows up the tulip, but as it radiates from your chest, flickers in the slight breeze, Satoru sees flashes of red and green, much brighter than everything else around him, and knows that it won’t be consumed. Sitting down, he hugs his legs to his chest and stares at your dead body blankly, chin on his knees.

He had had a plan. He was going to just… put the flower there, exorcise the curse inside you, and bury you so you could finally rest. He wouldn’t hesitate because this is something you entrusted him to do.

But this is the first time in months he hasn’t had a cloud hanging over his head, and his body feels so much ligher without the burden of your disease hanging off his shoulders, that he can’t help but relish in it. Speak to you without worrying about saying the wrong thing, of people overhearing. He’s finally… free. 

It feels fucking awful.

“You were right, by the way.” His voice is dull, resonating deep in his chest. There is no August sun breaking through the trees above, only from behind him, and the golden beams touch your chin, down your throat and chest. It sets the red of the tulip on fire. “I miss you. And I wish I could’ve said so many things, but we ran out of time.” A faint smile. “No matter what you think, Suguru loved you. It’s why he came to see you one last time. I knew him better than I knew myself, and I know he was happiest knowing you were at his side.” Closing his eyes, the ache in his heart swells as he utters out, “So was I.”

Burying his his face in his forearms, a cup inside him seems to tip over and everything feels too hot for him to breathe in. Ripping his blindfold off and tossing it away from him blindly, his eyes snap open wide as he tries to breathe. His ribs constrict his lungs, and he presses his eyes into his arms, hands shaking as he sinks his nails into his biceps. 

Harsh pants puff against his face as he tries to reign in his shuddering, but he can’t. The knot in his heart twists until he thinks he might die, and distantly, he hears soft footsteps so faint he’s not sure if he imagines it. Gritting his teeth, he stifles the bruising feeling welling up in his throat.

Gentle hands brush down his shoulders soothingly, sending a wave of nausea through his body, and he jerks away.

“Damn it, Ijichi, leave me alone!” Wrenching his head up, his eyes widen at the figure crouched in front of him.

Arms falling lax to the grass and his knees widening, his jaw drops as a thumb teases his parted lips. You step between his legs and crouch down, limber and strong. You look healthy again, bright eyes and full cheeks, young like spring, and when you smile, it fills him utterly with light. In your hands is his blindfold, and you ruffle his hair, tilting your head curiously.

“I’m not Ijichi, but… do you really want me to go so soon?” you ask as he rakes his gaze up and down your body. There is still a purple shell encasing your legs, but as you shift your weight on your feet, it falls like fragile eggshells to the ground and sinks into the dirt, disappearing for good. Peering around you, his eyes widen when he sees shards of a purple shell in shatters all over your corpse.

He’d only seen this once before, eight months ago, with a certain student of his and the cursed spirit of the girl he loved and who loved him.

Face burning, his gaze snaps back to you as you poke his cheek and continue to grin. Leaning back on his hands, he tries to stop the intense shattering of his walls by clenching his jaw, but the shudders overtake his body, his chest, his throat until he’s letting out an ugly sound and blinking hard as if that’ll hide it away from you. Something devastatingly warm immediately shoots down his cheeks. Covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow, he turns his face away but your warm hands cradle him carefully, thumbs brushing underneath his eyes.

“Yuuta, you’re right. Rika isn’t cursing you.”

“No,” he whispers, arm falling. His fingers sink into his shoulder as if that would be enough to wake him from this nightmare. “No. I can’t—Did I—Did I kill you?” You squint studiously, not letting go of his face as he lifts the hand from his shoulder and reaches to touch you. It shakes, and he snaps it into a fist to stop it, looking at his fingers that have done so much harm—shed so much blood. “Did I do this to you?”

“You cursed Rika.”

You chuckle fondly, like he’s said something silly, and set a hand on his fist, pushing it down firmly. “You can’t control how other people react to your words, Satoru.” Your voice changes, and your eyebrows draw together in something bittersweet. “And you can’t change something you didn’t know. The chances of you cursing me and me cursing myself are irrelevant. It doesn’t change anything about where we are, now.”

Satoru watches you, lips parted, as you tie the blindfold around his neck. You feel so real, so close, and as you slide your hands down his shoulders, to his chest, he jerks his head down to stare at your shoes in the grass. 

So he did. 

“I see,” he murmurs.

That’s it, then.

“Satoru, please look at me,” you whisper, fingers stretching to his chin. With the gentlest of pressures, you prompt him up and he finds your face, your smile, where all colours begin and end. For a moment, the world seems to inhale all of its life back into its core—the leaves whistle, the sun is warm and golden, and he lifts his hand to touch you again, but you pull back before he can. 

“I can only thank you for being my friend. For staying with me until the very end.” You laugh quietly to yourself and lift your hand from his face. “I would make a joke about a curse, but I know it still hurts, so I’ll save it for when I see you on the other side, okay? When it heals a bit more.”

“It’s never going to hurt less,” he croaks. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know how much you mean to me.”

Your smile softens. Satoru tries to eternalize that expression forever. “I’m honoured, but, I hope it does heal. I don’t want you to learn how to carry so much pain around. I don’t want you to be numb.” You touch his cheek again, as if you’re trying to soak in as much of him as you can, too. 

“Do you have any last words?” he manages to ask raspily, and you chuckle, tilting your head and running your hand through his hair again. His eyes flutter shut at the scratch, the sensation of your nails against his scalp, and then there’s your hand at his jaw, holding him all together. He wants to hold you so badly he thinks his muscles might cramp into stone at the desire.

“What does it matter?” you ask curiously. “You already know how I feel. That will never change. And if you ever want to know what I think, or what I’d do, you can just ask Shoko and think about it yourself. You know me well enough to not need me nagging about it.”

“But, it won’t be enough.”

“It never will be,” you agree. “But isn’t it wonderful that we even got to know each other at all?” You lean forward, and his eyes flutter shut as you hold him to your chest. He can’t hear your heartbeat anymore, but your warmth is almost the same. The echo of your voice rumbles in his head as you speak, and maybe that is enough. “If you want my last words, you already have them.”

You draw him back, and give him one last smile. The air shifts golden yellow to his Six Eyes, for the last time. 

“Until we meet again, my Satoru.” 

You fade without giving him a chance to answer, taking all the colour with you. 

Staring at the empty air where you had been just a moment before with wide, burning blues, he whispers your name brokenly before burying his hands in the dirt, squeezing his eyes shut, and letting boiling tears scald his face red.

.

“If you want my last words, you already have them.”

Spinning the key ring on his finger, Satoru looks dully at the door knob he had just unlocked. There’s no one in the hall, and he debates whether or not he should turn around, but Shoko had insisted. There’d been something left for him in your old apartment, and according to her, it would be spoiled soon if he didn’t go.

“Oh, what the hell,” he mutters, catching the key in his palm and shoving it into his long coat. Tugging it tighter around himself, he twists the knob and pushes it open. He can’t remember the last time he was in here. Maybe five or six months ago, when they both had a day off that didn’t need to be spent at the college.

There aren’t any plants anymore. He supposes Nanami, Ijichi, maybe even Yaga have taken them. He swears he’s seen a few in the gardens lately, but who is he to say? Toeing off his shoes, he makes his way down the hall. 

 Everything is just as you left it, with clean counters and empty tables. The curtains are spread, letting in so much September sunlight. It hits random display pedestals of different sizes, all the surfaces big enough to fit a pot on. Your watering can sits by the sink. There are photos hanging on the walls, propped up on the desk, on your shelves, polaroids taped to the walls. 

Reminders that someone did live here. That there is a whole life unknown to strangers but evidence enough that whoever used to be here, they had people who would miss them.

Walking up to the counter, he drags his fingers along the surface, feeling the dust collect up to a square of pale light. A clean circle is all that’s left as a clue that there used to be something there, and his heart twists.

Who knew he could miss fucking plants of all things?

Sweeping his gaze around, he brushes off the dust on his jacket and hooks a thumb on his blindfold, sweeping the area with an eccentric eye. The TV is off, your bookshelves are in their usual untidy state, but even the reaching vines of the bean plant is gone from the highest shelf.

 “They really scooped this place dry,” he muses dryly to no one. He can still hear the music you’d play for late nights, the smell of dumpling soup. He walks down the hall and still remembers how many steps it takes to reach the bathroom that guests would use. 

He had hunched over that bath on December 25th, and let water soak through his hair as strong fingers worked the sweat from his scalp and skin.

Four more steps to the guest best room on the right, and another three to the end of the hall where a door leads to your room. It’s already open, and he steps in easily, tugging his blindfold all the way down off his face. Hair falling over his eyes, he sweeps it aside and surveys the room. The walls are still that pretty shade of cream, and your bed is made carefully, dark olive blankets resting atop your white sheets. He smiles to himself, despite the twang in his chest.

Walking deeper, he approaches the cabinet by your bathroom, and picks up the photo you have by your jewelry stand.

A smile curls his mouth. He remembers this one. First year, their first September. All four of them had gone together to Sapporo for the autumn festival. 

He sets the photo back down and looks into the bathroom. Your toiletries are all lined up, waiting for their next use, and he swallows as he raises his gaze up to the mirror. His blue eyes look a big too big on his face from the past month alone, and there are red-purple half moons printed onto his face that have only just started to fade. He swears it only looks worse because of how much pale light is streaming in from the windows, and he tugs at his collar uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

Turning around, he looks at the offenders for making him look so awful, and finds a medium-sized pot sitting on the window seat. It’s the only thing sitting on the flat, wooden surface, in partial shade and almost unfurling before his very eyes.

Satoru frowns, walking around your bed to inspect the plant. 

The flowers are a warm magenta colour, and his eyes widen at the flash of white he can see leading to the center of each bloom. Brushing a thumb over the petals, his jaw sets as he tilts his head to get a better look at the plant. So this is what was growing inside of you. Huh.

There’s another slip of white near the dirt, and his eyebrows furrow, fingers seeking the thing. It crinkles when he touches it, and his frown deepens as he manages to grasp it, pulling it free underneath the leaves and stems of the plants. Sitting down beside the pot, he dusts off the dirt clinging to the paper, and reads his name along the front in your print before flipping the envelope around. There’s something sticking out of it, a sloping shape that’s hard but not too big.

Curiosity peaked, he tears the envelope open carefully and peers inside. A binder clip is inside, holding something together, and he flips it upside down, letting everything fall. The letter slides out first, followed by whatever the binder clip is holding together and he squeezes his thighs together so it doesn’t fall to the floor.

Setting the letter aside, he picks the bundle up. 

Polaroids.

They’re polaroids of different sizes that have him smiling despite the heavy sorrow twisting his entire chest.

Various pictures of Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you together, and he finds most of them are of him and you. Pictures of him hiding behind plants of various sizes, a picture of him drinking soju, because Suguru liked it the most and insisted he try, while leaning against Shoko who was knocking back a shot of tequila. There is a shot of Suguru, wet with mud and smiling like sunshine, while a drenched Satoru was in the background, flipping the camera off in the middle of a storm. 

More and more pictures, enough to spill out of his lap, and he picks up each one, desperate to remember when or where you took them.

And, sometimes, he can’t. Sometimes, they are just moments that he’s lost because he never thought they’d be important, and now moments he’d give anything to remember.

There are pictures of a fern he had named their first year, little annotations on the bottom of some others. Dates, but with no context otherwise. Names scribbled in black ink. 

You’re in a lot of them, your smile timeless, your joy infectious even through film.

Arms slung around Suguru, face smushed against his, artfully blurry perhaps on accident, and annotated with scrawl that read: I call this masterpiece “Dumb Sweethearts” by Gojo Satoru :)

A picture of him and Shoko and Suguru, of them in one of Tokyo’s night markets, you behind the camera, the lights flashing and warm and pink, making them all look like they’ve transported to some other kind of cyberpunk world. 

You and Shoko lounging in the gardens, having a tiny picnic at your insistence, and in Suguru’s handwriting in black: JUST GIRLS BEING PALS

Satoru stares at Suguru’s writing the longest, not even at his words, just the strokes of his pen. This is a new part of him Satoru thought had been destroyed, and he starves for it. It’s like his one and only lives and breathes in the ink, in those snapshots of him caught in eternal youth. When they’d been happy and unaware and not innocent, but cocky enough to think they could rule the world. 

It’s hungry, the way he goes through each photo, searching for another glimpse of you, of him, of them together, until Satoru is all out of moments to feed on, and still, he feels empty, flicking through the last few photos.

You in a pool, arms wrapped around Shoko and beaming like the sun.

A shot of Satoru and Suguru climbing trees shot from below, your eyes and skeptically raised eyebrows in frame, captioned big dumb monkeys

And the last one…

He holds it to the sunlight and his gaze softens.

A selfie of you kissing Suguru on the cheek. It’s mostly dark, but they were definitely in the bathroom, and the flash made Suguru’s outstretched arm look pale as a ghost, but even so, there’s no mistaking the happiness captured there. He was sticking out his tongue, winking, and red as a beet so he was either drunk or you had said something or both. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nose squished against his cheek, eyes squeezed tight as he took the shot.

Turning it over, Satoru’s heart plummets into his chest. In Suguru’s clean, blocky writing:

THE GIRL IM GOING TO MARRY ONE DAY <3

And crossed out is your reply followed by a little note:

dummy doesnt have the nerve to propose SHHH!!!! ONE DAY C:

One day.

It sounds so much emptier now.

He lowers the photo back to his lap, and glances around him, at all these scattered moments captured forever. Gathering them up again, he relives them all over again, looking at each photo for longer to see if he’s missed anything, but mostly his stare lingers on your face, and on Suguru’s, and his own, too, because he can’t remember what it felt like back then, but he is sure it feels so much better than now.

The polaroids come together a neat stack and he is careful not to scratch any of them when he clips them together. The top photo is of you with your arms wrangled around Suguru and Satoru, your face split in a maniacal laugh, their mouths open in shock, eyes bulging in how you must’ve scared them witless. 

Shoko’s messy writing at the bottom, for it must’ve been her who had taken the photo: BREAKING NEWS: Japan’s Strongest Conquered by a Woman.

A smile cracks his weary face and he runs a thumb over their faces before sliding the photos back into the envelope for safe-keeping. 

Then, he grabs the letter. His name is written again on the first flap, and he reads it three times over before unfolding the paper, not quite ready but also not sure if he ever will be.

Immediately, a faint, herbal-like scent slashed with antiseptic flows from the page and his stomach curdles as your script pours down the page. 

Swallowing, Satoru shifts and leans against the wall, hiking a foot up onto the seat and holding your inked characters to the light. There’s a date inscribed at the top.

Thursday. 

The first Thursday after you had been released from the hospital. Your last Thursday before you were back in for good.

“Shit.”

He folds the letter again and tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Does he want to read this? Does he really want to fucking read this? 

Taking a deep breath, he clears his throat and lowers his gaze to stare determinedly ahead of him. The purple flowers greet him warmly and he shakes the shiver out of his body before tightening his grip on your letter and unfolding it again, forcing his eyes on the page.

My Satoru,

I sent all the pictures I had of Shoko to her, and she has some of Suguru, too. Now that I’m gone, there’s no use if I keep them. Maybe you two could share some time, laugh it up over these old memories. I know she says she can’t stand you, but to be honest, who else is there that will remember us now? Who else is there to remember Suguru for more than his bloody hands and me as more than that girl too sick to do anything but die? 

Some legacy we said we’d leave, huh.

I don’t think I told you this, but with this disease catching up to me, it’s hard not to form hypotheses on why it’s happening or how. I have quite a few theories, and, unfortunately, none of them are pleasant or unriddled with angst. By now, you’ve probably figured out it’s a curse, and if you’re smart enough to ignore how much I’ll probably deny it, that it’s some love bullshit. If you didn’t know, now you do.

I know it’s weird. Suguru is dead. It shouldn’t be happening, right?

That’s what I thought, too

You once said love manifests the most twisted curses. I never thought of it that way before, but I’m starting to think you’re right. I don’t want to curse you by dying, but I can’t help but wonder if we can control who we curse. If I hadn’t heard you say that, would I still be here? Healthy? Okay? 

I don’t know. I can’t predict alternate timelines, because I got to live one life, and that’s more than most people get. But, because I know you, you want me to entertain you. I’m sighing as I write this.

Look, I know the pain would still be there. I know I still wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for what I did, even if it was what had to be done. I know I would still miss him. I know that I would still long for the day I didn’t feel guilty for loving someone else.

If you didn’t curse me, I cursed myself. It drives me crazy that this is how the die was cast, even now, even after months where I could’ve accepted this, but at least this physical manifestation almost makes me… calm. Like seeing what this life has done to me makes me brave enough to fight it. If anything at all, the curse brought me a greater understanding of how powerful our world is in comparison to people who… are normal. The people we have to protect.

I’m sorry. Reading this back, it sounds like I’m the one cursing you now; telling you all this knowledge that can only bring you more anguish. I promise, this isn’t what it is. I just want you to understand. You couldn’t have saved me, Satoru. I couldn’t have given you the absolution you wanted, and if that’s how it is, then I just hope that one day you can look back on this and it won’t hurt anymore.

It’s always been so complicated between us, after what happened to Suguru, and after what he did, even ten years ago. What we couldn’t stop and what we had to do that day. There was always a line that I thought I couldn’t cross, or a line you didn’t want to cross, and it was shaped a lot like him. I don’t know if it was just in my head, but there was something holding us back, and I was fine dancing around it because I saw how you felt about him and I understood. Your eyes always changed when you looked at him. When you spoke of him. Even after.

Always after.

Don’t think I’m angry. I’m not blind. I know how much you two meant to each other, and I could never be angry that Suguru is so cherished. Missed. It makes everything so much harder, so much more painful.

Look, in the end, I loved him, and you did, too. And if we both still do, that’s okay. He deserved love. 

I guess it just feels like a stab in the back that it wasn’t enough. 

But life isn’t a fairytale. None of it really matters. To be honest, I wouldn’t trade any of it for a second, and I hope you wouldn’t either. 

Maybe life isn’t supposed to be lived happily, but lived contently. And I did. I am satisfied with what I’ve done, even if I wanted to do so much more. 

I’m so grateful to have known you, to have had you by my side. I hope you can say the same. 

Don’t regret my death. Remember how much fun we had when we were stupid kids, and smile. Because I don’t want you to think your best years are behind you. I want you to be happy, even if I can’t be there to see it. I want you to be excited for your future, even if I can’t be in it.

I’ll always be watching over you, so smile for me every once in a while. Even if it seems like you’ll never feel anything again. One day, I promise you will, and it won’t feel so bad.

Yours forever and ever and ever,

(Name)

.

Throat crushed, he reads one line over and over the most. He’s memorized your letter heart, but he still carries it around with him, anyway.

“I know that I would still long for the day I didn’t feel guilty for loving someone else.”

Sometimes, he just wants to imagine your hand whispering over the page, the pen tapping against your chin, your face as you wrote, the sigh that you said you heaved. Because he’ll never hear you laugh again, see your smile. Your voice will never tease his ear, your fingers will never touch his face. There is no more laugh-wrinkles set in a face always perfectly hit by sunlight, and this is all he has left. His memory, and what you’ve left behind.

It makes him laugh how almost lovestruck stupid he’s being, but… he doubts anyone blames him. As long as he’s still doing his job, as long as he’s still the Strongest, what does it matter if he carries a dead woman’s letter in his pocket everywhere?

“Warm weather, even in the evenings. That’s a bit unusual,” Nanami observes, startling Satoru and he looks up at the blond who stops by him in the gardens. The man is wearing his grey suit, as always, and his watch glimmers in the fading gold light. “How are you?”

Satoru’s fingers tighten around the letter in his hands. As usual, the urge to crumple it up, throw it into the garbage to never see it again, has reared its head after his latest re-read, but he’ll stave it off. He always manages to.

“Fine,” he replies, glancing at the startling blood red and burnt orange leaves casually. Colours seem a bit brighter, and Satoru still squints a bit against them, despite the soft light of the sunset. He doesn’t know when his Six Eyes got so sensitive to that kind of stuff, but it almost feels good to be distracted by something so trivial as sensitive eyesight. “It is a bit warm for October.” 

Nanami hums. “How are your plants doing?”

“Mine are doing good,” he says, smiling. “The tulips have gone dormant, so nothing to worry about there. The one with purple flowers, though. It’s a tough one. It took me a while to figure out what it liked, but it didn’t go dormant or anything as long as I gave it enough water and paid attention to it.”

“That’s good.” Nanami adjusts his green lenses and sighs like he’s bracing himself for something difficult. “Gojo,” he begins, but Satoru merely folds your letter up and slides it into his breast pocket, holding up a hand.

“Whatever you’re going to say, Nanami, I don’t need to hear it.”

“Are you sure?” he asks skeptically, gaze following as Satoru stands, patting his jacket. Adjusting the lapel, he turns to his friend and when he grins, it feels like it reaches his eyes behind his sunglasses for the first time in two months.

“I’ve done this before, Nanami. I’ll be fine.” He waves it away. Nanami frowns. “I’m gonna get some dinner, though. Care to join? There’s a real good ramen place in Ikebukuro that you have to try.” The blond man observes him for a moment, before shaking his head, saying he had dinner already. “Suit yourself. Next time, I’m treating you, though.” 

Lips puckered in a whistle, Satoru turns around and begins to walk away. 

A breeze sweeps through the gardens, rustling the leaves in a discordant harmony, and sneaking into his jacket, sending a slight shiver up his spine as Nanami’s voice follows after him.

“The flower she left you is the sakurasou.” Satoru stops, hands in his pockets, but he doesn’t turn around as Nanami continues, “I wasn’t certain if if you knew.”

“Nope, I didn’t. Thanks for the info.” Lifting a hand, he barely looks over his shoulder before saluting with two fingers and smiling cheekily. It’s not as forced as it used to be. In fact, it comes quite easy as he reaches into his pocket for his phone. He knows what he has to find out now. “See ya later, Nanami.”

“Good evening,” he replies, and in a blink of an eye, Satoru is gone.

On the windowsill of his empty apartment, the sakurasou soaks in the last remnants of the day before wilting against two photos.

One of four students, arms entangled, and faces framed in eternal youth.

And another immortalizing what could’ve been longer than a few shaky months if someone had been just a bit braver.

a/n: satoru’s google search result: the meaning of sakurasou - desire and long-lasting love. 

and yes, there was an actual lunar eclipse on july 27th, 2018 (28th in japan time). it was very pretty. i researched a bit about both the lunar eclipse and the medical stuff, but excuse any inaccuracies! tis but a work of fiction <3 also, fun fact: the polaroid camera is supposed to be the instax mini 90 but ive never used it so excuse those inaccuracies as well SKNDALSDKN

ngl i did wanna write an alternative ending, but i can’t see this ending any other way. this is it. this is the canon, and we got a bit of happy feelies at the end as a treat. thank you for reading!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (Part 7): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: the General makes you train, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into, and plans are revealed. 

wc: 2K

tw: none

a/n: Thank you for being patient, sunshines! 7.5 will be out tonight as a huge thank you to all of my followers and anons who are reading. You all are just amazing. 

masterlist

“Take a break!” The heavy rake is tossed to the ground,and you struggle for air, panting and coughing. Torturing you with the rake-swinging seemed to be Geto’s objective today, and it’s taking the life out of your body. 

As you rest on your back - facing the sky - there’s a massive gust of air above you, and you tilt your head back to see a tiny, raven haired boy standing above you. He’s fanning you eagerly, face scrunched up in frown as he exerts all of his energy on the fan. Your first reaction is to stare at the child in fascination; the next is to laugh. 

“Junpei…” you chuckle, and the child stops, letting the fan drift to his side. “You’re too sweet.” He nods once, huffing out a short breath, then starts fanning you again, making your hair blow back behind your ears. 

“Giving Lady y/n a nice breeze, Junpei?” Geto asks, walking towards you two with the rake in his hand. 

“Yes, Master Geto,” Junpei affirms, scrunching his face up even more as he increases  the force of his fanning. Geto leans on the rake and watches the scene with a small smile on his face, and you allow Junpei to continue his task for a moment longer before standing. You grin at the child, placing a hand on his head as you murmur:

“Thank you, sweet one.” His hair bobs as he bows to you, then to Geto, and dashes off into the camp once more. You watch the child run off, his hair flying in the stale air of the mid-day. 

“You have quite a few admirers, I see,” Geto begins, and you shake your head. “First, little Itadori, now Junpei… who’s next, I wonder?”

“I would like to wager a certain General would be next in line to try and win my hand,” you reply; Geto straightens up immediately and walks closer to you, a lazy grin painted on his face. 

“Well, it seems that General might have quite a difficult time getting past your growing line of suitors.” You both chuckle, and Geto tilts up your chin with a forefinger. You’re prepared to kiss him - well, that is until he stops and says:

“Only six more sets of ten swings to go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

 You can barely bring your spoon to your lips during lunch. 

“My Lady, do you require assistance?” 

You shake your head no, but your arms are screaming please help us. 

It was one thing to have to swing until the sun went down. It’s an entirely different thing to not only swing seventy times but also run laps around the field like a soldier in training. You felt exhausted by the third lap, but Geto encouraged you to run more; his hands on his knees as he watched you turn into a floundering fish on land. 

The other women surely watched you train with a curious eye. No one dares to ask why you allow Geto to reduce you to mush in full view of the camp, even though they know why you let him do it. 

Because he turns you to mush when they’re not watching, as well. 

“Master Geto?” Kaori shouts, standing from her seated position on the tarp laid out in the grass. 

“No, don’t!” you cry out, but she’s already trudging down the field, leaving you behind as she calls Geto’s name over and over again. You curse softly, sitting down your soup with agonizing slowness and try to stand from where you’re sitting, but your legs will not move an inch. 

“She can barely move; how do you expect her to eat lunch and remain healthy if you render her arms useless? Then you walk off, leaving her to her own devices! You don’t pay me enough to feed her like you do during dinner.” Kaori is stomping back up to you, followed closely by Geto, who is shrugging on his haori and appears to be rather alarmed. “You should take better care of your captives, Master Geto. Look at her!” 

You try your best to look as painless as possible, but the facade is broken when Geto extends a hand out and you grimace as you try to reach your own hand out. His face falls instantly and without speaking, he hoists you up into his arms. “Kaori, bring her soup, please. I’ll feed her myself.” Your head rests against his broad chest limply, and the way that his heart beats wildly against your ears oddly soothes you. You’re in pain, yes, but you’re not completely immune to the way he makes your heart stutter and trip over itself when he’s near you. And you’ve never been as near to him as you are now. 

“When you are in pain, you need to say something,” Geto chastises as he lays you in the bed, folding a fur up before resting you against it and sitting beside you. “Kaori made it sound like you were dying.” 

“I wasn’t dying,” you retort. “I tried to prevent her from saying anything.” 

“So, you thought I wouldn’t find out later?” When the head maid deposits the soup bowl into Geto’s hands, he looks up at you and raises a brow. 

“No, I--” 

“Open.” A spoonful of clear onion soup is presented to you, and you obey, knowing your argument is completely lost already. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re taken care of while you’re here,” he continues, offering another spoonful. “You should let me know when you’re struggling, or when you need something.” 

Your mouth is full of soup, so you can’t reply like you want to. But what would you even say? Would you tell him that you’ve been struggling between your plan - which had been altered slightly over the past few days - or would you tell him you needed him in more ways than one?  

“Master Geto,” a voice calls out at the opening of the tent. You don’t recognize the voice at all, but when the person walks through the flaps, you recognize his face. His wide, dark blue eyes are all-too familiar, and the young man’s mouth presses together in a thin line at the sight of you being spoon-fed by Geto. This is the same man who captured you when you tried to run away the first time. 

“Yuta, I’m glad you’re here. What do you have for me?” Yuta… The name rings a bell along with the memory of Nanami mentioning him when talking about the new emissary. Yuta produces a thin roll of brown paper and hands it to Geto. 

“They’re not going to send another emissary.” The implications of this knowledge brings the weight of the world down on your shoulders, and you look to Geto’s face, which is blank. 

“Wait, but that means--” you’re quickly interrupted by Yuta’s sharp eyes cutting to you, and Geto chuckles. 

“That means I’d better get you all settled in the next village as soon as possible.” 

_______________________________________________________________________

“What if the elders don’t agree to his plan?” you wonder aloud, and Kaori runs water down your arms before answering softly. 

“Then he will wipe the village out, my Lady.” 

“But how? And single handedly?” 

“I won’t claim to know how he does it. I have never been privy to his methods, nor would I want to be.” 

You think about Kaori’s words long after the bath was over, alone in the bedroom and wrapped in furs. The thought of Geto slaughtering an entire village is chilling, but his truly ruthless side was not something you had been exposed to. You shake thoughts of death out of your mind and stand from the bed, dragging the fur pelt behind you as you stride over to Geto’s desk to eye his newest plans. 

The page full of black and red ink marks is unfamiliar to you, and you can’t make heads or tails of the drawings despite looking at it from different angles. The mystery of the paper engrosses you fully - so much so that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind. 

“They’re formations.” Yuta speaks behind you, and you jolt, knocking your hip against the table. 

“I b-beg your pardon?” you stutter, clutching the pelt around you tightly. 

“Formations... for battle.”  Yuta reaches over to point at a circle and then to the arrows moving away from it. “This is the center of the formation - where Master Gojo will be - and this,” he points to the triangle at the head of the formation. “Is where Master Geto will be.” 

“Why is Gojo well-protected and not Geto?” The inquiry is met with laughter as Yuta slides the paper away from you. 

“He’s not being protected. He’s protecting everyone else.” 

“And when is this occurring?” Yuta raises a brow, looking over at you with a tender gaze. 

“Haibara and Gojo are negotiating with the closest village as we speak, but we could encounter the Imperial Warriors at any time. This could happen tomorrow, if I’m being honest.” 

“Tomorrow?” Your shock doesn’t affect the young man at all, and he steps away from you, eyeing you carefully. 

“I won’t say anything further. Geto is protecting you from this information for some reason, and has obviously commanded Kaori to say nothing as well.” With this, he exits, and you’re left looking at the squares, circles, and triangles while wondering where you fit into all of this mess. 

_______________________________________________________________________

Your encounter with Yuta gave you more questions than answers, and when the bed dips behind you, you roll over to meet Geto face to face, intent on getting answers.

“I thought you were asleep.” You don’t respond to the statement, instead sitting up fully and pushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“You should have told me that you could go to war at any time.” Geto frowns, sliding in next to you and tilting his head to the side. 

“I’m waiting on word from Haiba--” 

“And that. What happened to my village after you took me?” 

“Little one, I haven’t touched your village. You would know if I made any decisions about the fate of your peers.” 

“Kaori doesn’t know what happened to her family, and she’s just a maid! Why would you feel obligated to tell me - a captive - about my family?” 

“You’re more than just a captive to me, y/n. You know that,” he whispers, blinking slowly. 

“Right, I’m a pawn,” you grunt. “I asked you to tell me your game, and now I’m asking you again. What do you plan on doing with me while you’re away at war? I know you’re not stupid enough to leave me here while you’re away and can’t keep an eye on--” 

Geto puts up a hand, trying to stop you from speaking. “You’re right, I hav--” 

“Did you know I tried to run away?” The General looks at you, face blank. “But I came back and…” You fumble for the words, but they don’t feel right in your mouth. So, you rephrase. “I came back because…” You pause. You remember the reason you justified coming back, but it doesn’t make sense now. You can’t even say you followed your own plan. It had fallen by the wayside the moment Geto’s lips met yours; that you knew for a fact. 

“Nanami watched you; I knew you left the tent the moment you began walking across the camp,” he admits, and your lips part in surprise. “But you turned around. I came to confront you after dinner, and that’s why I was at the tent when you started to yell. My anger overshadowed my disappointment, but then even that was overshadowed by my desire to have you.” 

“Then why--” 

“I’m not leaving you here; you’re absolutely right about that. I wanted to wait to tell you when the time was right, but… I suppose now is the time. Your carriage will leave as soon as Gojo and Haibara send word back to me about the village. I’m sending you home.”

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover​ @jotazinha @just4readingfics​ @mxhi​ @sammytamaki​ @brownskinnedgirll​ @keelyshayee​ @leanne-tamashi​ @vabybizzle​ @amaris9​ 

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 3/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 3/8 WORD COUNT: 4,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of murder/crime/dying | mentions and use of drugs SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

"Do you remember the last time I was in your car?"

The hitch immediately started with that one question. It seemed innocent enough with the way you said it in nonchalance while you let your eyes roam the ivory interior of the Lexus. The two of you were only halfway out of the highway when you asked out of the blue, ultimately pissing Nanami off.

At the reminder, his knuckles immediately turned bone white on the steering wheel, his expressions turning dark as he glanced at you, mouth set in a thin line.

He couldn't remember a darker time in his life than watching you almost die from the rear view mirror of his car as you lay shivering on the backseat, unresponsive even if he struggled to both drive, not to crash and keep you conscious. The glassy look about your blue eyes and the way your pupils had blown up to more than twice their size making him shiver. It was safe to say it scarred him for life.

It was a day like any other. He had just gotten off work after a long day at the court, a mix of sadness and elation coursing through him after winning the case for a teenage girl who was brutally murdered. He finally put the man responsible for it in jail for good. It felt good to see the relief on the faces of the grieving parents; to finally put an end to the daily misery they have to go through, having to be reminded of what has become of their daughter.

But as he was resting in his study, a damp towel draped over his tired eyes and throbbing head, his phone suddenly rang. It wasn't yet 10 o'clock in the evening so he opted to answer it, surprised when he saw your name on the screen. You never really called, and the last time you did, it didn't bode well.

"Hello?"

"Suguru..." came your hoarse voice from the other end of the line, your shallow breaths and wheezes evident in each syllable followed by the sound of faintly splashing water.

"You've reached the wrong person, sweetheart," he muttered, reminding him just how Geto was your favorite among Gojo's friends. He did not resent that, but to say he wasn't the tiniest bit jealous was a lie.

Nanami called your name several times but there was no response, just loud rustling and what seemed to be the device falling on the floor with an echo.

"I fucked up big time," you managed to choke out when you spoke again, your tone slurred, and you seemed to be having a difficult time speaking.

"Where are you?"

"I n-need you... p-please..."

"What's going on?" Nanami was already on his feet, dashing out of the study and picking up his keys, still coaxing you to respond when he heard a ding on his phone. You managed to send your location but you weren't speaking anymore.

He was not religious, probably did not believe in a higher being, but as he drove towards your location, thankfully only half a mile away to the suburbs, he found himself fervently praying for your safety.

When he finally got to the address, he found a modernistic structure, a house, and there seemed to be a party going on. He saw some familiar faces, the gallery manager from the previous exhibit of your recent collection and some art connoisseurs he recognized from the same event.

He barged into the house, being handed a champagne flute the moment he entered, everyone welcoming him but he didn't see your face among the people. He refused, asking instead where you were, sprinting up the stairs in large strides when he was told you went upstairs with some people.

Nanami pretty much kicked every door open until he finally found you in one of the upstairs bathroom. He thought his knees would give out as his heart literally stopped at the sight before him.

There, on the half-filled bathtub was you, soaked to your chest. Your white hair was matted over your forehead while the tips floated on the water. You turned your head when you heard him enter, revealing bloodshot eyes, your lips blue and you looked like you didn't have any blood left with your almost greyish pallor.

Hurriedly, he took you out of the tub, carrying you downstairs much to the curiosity of the guests. "You will be okay. Stay with me," he kept telling you.

Despite your state, you managed to smile, tears springing from your eyes. "Nanamin..." you said weakly, making his heart swell that you were at least happy to see him.

He seriously thought you were going to die, but apparently, you did not necessarily overdose on the cocaine you had taken in as he would later find out from the doctors themselves. You had a bad trip and had to be weaned off the substance for the next twenty four hours.

"Are you drug dependent?" he asked when he picked you up from the hospital, opting not to tell Gojo about the matter until he got his answers.

"You won't tell Satoru, will you?" you asked.

"That depends on your answer and whether you're telling the truth," he told you gruffly, fighting hard not to be angry seeing as how fragile you looked. He hadn't slept and he felt as if his nerves were frayed.

You shook your head. "That's the first time. I promise you it won't happen again. I know it's stupid, but I was just curious."

"Your devil-may-care attitude will kill you."

"I know."

He didn't say anything more no matter how much he wanted to scold you and beat some sense into you. He never brought it up and neither did you. That was an unspoken agreement between the two of you. It was your secret which he will carry to his grave and for the last three years since then, nothing like it happened again. You voluntarily cut your ties with the people who were in that party and since then, you had been well.

"Don't remind me," he snapped at you, keeping his eyes on the road.

You’ve reached the shop that Utahime had instructed you to go to for your fitting, but before he could kill the engine, you spoke again.

"Come to think of it, I've never properly apologized for it, and I haven't said thank you enough for saving me that day."

Nanami shot you a sharp look. "I don't want to talk about it."

You sighed and held his hand as he was taking off his seatbelt. "I don't mean to make you angry, but I am sincerely apologizing for it. I am sorry because I put you through that."

Nanami held you by the wrist instead, meeting your gaze with a cold stare. "If you are, then I hope you also realized what a selfish person you are. You're right. You put me through hell. What could I have said to your brother if you died on me that night?"

You didn't say anything, appearing contrite for the first time.

"Gojo would have lost you. Your friends would have lost you." He sighed heavily, holding your hand properly, his expressions softening at how tiny yours looked in his. "I would have lost you."

At his last statement, you nodded and chuckled quietly. "I wouldn't refute that if it saves me. Still, I wanted you to know that it was a big deal for me." You smiled at him. "But that's not all. I could have lost you, but you're still here. So, thanks." And in a surprising turn of events which left him dumbstruck, you lifted both your hands and brushed your lips on his knuckles before disembarking from the car and skipping to the couturier's shop.

His mind wandered throughout the time he was being assisted into the suit that the bride- and groom-to-be had chosen for him to wear on their wedding. He had to give Gojo props for choosing well and suiting the ensemble’s piece to his preference. But he couldn’t quite concentrate on the task at hand when the scene in the car kept playing in his mind. The back of his hand still tingled where you kissed it.

All he wanted to do was see you, but you were a room away, also being pricked and pinned. He wanted nothing but for the fitting to be over so he can be with you again, regardless if it was just for the short drive going back to Gojo manor. Your course of action and words fueled something in him he thought never existed, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, hear you, smell you, touch you. He wanted you, wanted to have you for himself come Gojo or high water. He already knew that, but he never felt as strongly as he did for you than at present because he also knew, that for the first time, you were being yourself and not playing games with him.

Nanami vaguely heard the tailor say something to him, but he didn’t quite catch it, but his image on the mirror suddenly became clearer as he was interrupted from his daydream. His brows furrowed together as he assessed what the man said, but before it could drag on for too long, his cluelessness, he said, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

“Is the fit just right, Mr. Nanami?” the man asked again, expert eyes scanning over his figure.

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Nanami stated hurriedly. He couldn’t care less about the suit, but it was already great. He didn’t see any reason to prolong the appointment. “Can I get changed now?”

“Certainly, sir,” the tailor said. “I will leave you to get dressed.”

He just nodded and carefully shed the suit off before changing back into his clothes, meticulously folding the sleeves of his shirt before he set out in search of you. He knocked on the door he was directed to, hearing music playing on the other side of the door along with some voices, one of which was yours.

The door opened and his eyes immediately met those cool blue ones through the mirror. You had your arms spread out to the sides as three women worked around you. “Done already?”

Nanami felt heat creeping up his neck as he averted his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were far from finished.”

“Oh, shush. I need your opinion.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Like I know anything about this.” At odds to his words, he sat down.

“Your boyfriend is handsome,” the couturier commented with a flirtatious giggle as he sized Nanami up.

“I –”

He was about to protest when you cut him short and said, “Isn’t he?”

“That coming from the person who said she didn’t feel like drawing my face,” he said, feigning annoyance.

“Oh, baby. I can’t draw your face if its saves me.” You flashed him a seductive smile. “You’re too perfect.” You winked at him through the mirror while he just sat down and shook his head in amusement, picking up a magazine but not really reading through it. He just watched as you were directed like a doll to pose whichever way the stylist wanted and he could have sworn he has seen nothing more beautiful.

“Just another pin right here,” the couturier said flamboyantly, fastening this and that around your sides, “…and we’re done!” He clapped his hands, standing back as he admired his handiwork. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s fine,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

“Hmm,” Nanami butted in, closing the distance between him and you. He came closer behind you, silently ordering everyone else out of the room with a succinct jerk of his head before he stood there, eyes on your bare back. He placed both hands on either of your shoulders, towering over you.

You quietly observed what he was doing from the mirror, your expressions unchanging even when he traced your spine with his finger. His lips curled at the corners ever so slightly when you slightly jerked forward when he reached the small of your back, relishing the smoothness of your skin against his calloused digit. He lingered there, drawing circles as he met your gaze on your reflection.

“Isn’t this too low?” he asked, his breath hitting the shell of your right ear. “You’re attending a wedding anyway.”

“Oh?” You twirled around so that your back was to the mirror, while you looked over your shoulder to check what he was saying. The plunging style of the dusty rose gown dipped all the way to your waist. “You think so?” You looked up at him, noticing how his face was just inches away from you. “I think it’s okay.”

“Okay for everyone to see?”

At that, you smiled smugly at him. “And you don’t like that, do you, Nanamin?” you asked sultrily.

“I am your boyfriend after all,” he teased. “While I’d like to brag about you, it wouldn’t sit right with me to know everyone’s seeing what’s supposedly only for my eyes, now would it?”

“I never took you for the jealous – whoa!”

Without preamble, he wrapped a strong arm around you, pulling you close so that you were flush against his chest, a devious smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t even concealing his enjoyment anymore. He liked having you close like that, your intoxicating scent dominating his senses.

“Why did you say that to the stylist?” he asked, leaning closer and reveling at the fact that you were caught off guard, eyes wide in surprise.

“It’s easier to just say so than explain, isn’t it?” You leveled your bearing with his. “You didn’t do anything to disagree either.”

“First, you kiss me in front of your brother, flirt with me like it’s normal and say things like that. What are you playing at?”

“Is this one of your games?” you asked, returning his question to you the previous day. You reached up and cupped the side of his face, eyes lingering on his mouth. “Cause I’ll play, Kento.”

He has never quite thought of his name before, whether he liked it or not. It was given to him and he couldn't imagine being called anything else. But he has never liked the sound of it as much as he did when it was rolling out of your tongue. It brought out a strange feeling, spurring him on to give in to his desires instead of holding them back like he usually does with you.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Fuck everything, he thought, dipping his head lower to close the distance between the two of you until he was touching your lips. A quiet gasp left your mouth when he pressed his lips onto yours in an experimental touch, gentle as a zephyr. Your ocean eyes stared at him, taken aback when he pulled away but the dazed look you had was the same one that drew him back to you, landing pecks several times, each one lingering longer than the last.

"Are you teasing me, Nanamin?" you breathed out softly, the laughter in your voice dying out when he captured your lips, this time shutting you up for a good while, coaxing you to respond to his ministrations. He knew he won over you when he felt your fingers grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer, your chest rising and falling against his in shallow breaths, making his heart thrum wildly.

His senses were already heightened whenever you were in the same breathing space as he was, but it was always a different story when you were touching him. Hyper aware. There wasn't a better word that would describe how he felt at that moment. He seemed to see everything he wouldn't usually notice; hear his heart thrumming over every other thought in his brain; almost touch the tension in the air and feel that intense heat blooming from his chest outwards.

But at the same time, nothing mattered but the person in front of him, kissing him and making him feel all sorts of ways. He was a gonner and he knew it but he didn't want to fight it either.

You moaned into the kiss when he gently darted his tongue into your mouth, seducing yours in a fiery dance that united your breaths. His hands made their way up your shoulders, the feel of your soft skin awakening carnal thoughts, making him think of nothing but ways to own you, mark you until he was satisfied. He cupped your face in his large hands, holding you in place, unable to get enough of your taste and the sensations you gave him. They made him crave like a man starved and deprived and he wants to take, take, take.

By the time he pulled away, he was a panting mess, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours, willing himself to calm down. He couldn't help the smile that graced his lips the moment he opened his eyes to find you flushed, lips swollen from his kisses. But that was short-lived when he heard a clinking sound on the side of his head and a wicked grin stretched over your mouth. When he followed the sound, he saw the keys to his car dangling on your fingers.

"What –"

You took a step back when he tried to reach for it, effectively holding it away from him. "Prestidigitation," you declared, sounding victorious. "I'm driving. No arguments."

Nanami sighed, his senses still fuzzy from your kiss and the sight of you whirling around in chiffon and taffeta. He just gave in to his affections for you in hopes of coming out the victor, but you still played him in his own game. "Fine. You win."

You stood on your toes and pecked him on the cheek, stepping off to the side to ring the bell for the shop staff. "I promise not to crash your car."

**

Nanami sat on the passenger side of the car, glancing at the fair-haired villain who stole his car keys, currently driving him to some surprise place of your choosing. He had protested when he noticed how you were going to the opposite way from the manor, taking the highway that led well away from the town. Thrice, he told you to turn back and for every reason he cited, you had a counterattack, not necessarily valid but enough grounds for you to get your way.

"I need to read through the case file and take down notes to make up for the time I'm missing at the firm," came his first excuse but you effectively shot that down by pointing at his briefcase neatly tucked at the backseat.

"Yeah, cause as anal as you are about your job, you don't keep spare copies in your car in cases of emergency."

He jerked on his seat at your comment. "Hey, I'm not anal about my job! I'm just being prudent."

You laughed at the way his voice was raised than usual. "No need to get defensive. Besides, Your initial hearing isn't going to be in two months and by the looks of it, you have everything almost done."

"How did you –"

"I saw them the first day you arrived." Shrugging, it was your turn to shoot him with an annoyed gaze. "You keep forgetting that I have photographic memory. I'm cursed to remember everything."

Truth was, he seemed to be forgetting whose sister you were, letting his guard down and kissing you the way he did. He knew he could have done more if he completely let go of his reins. You were just too tempting, too beautiful and brimming life and infinite galaxies in your eyes which devoured him and made him lose of all sense of time, space and just sense in general.

"Satoru will be looking for you," Nanami attempted for the second time which only earned him an imperious look from you. You said everything in that single action: one, that you didn't care and two, that he was behaving ludicrously.

For the final time, he tried to appeal with something which you would actually give a damn about. "Don't you want to spend time with your friends?"

"Seriously, Nanamin, they're the least of your problems. We're going camping tonight. Besides, they know –" You deliberately stopped talking, your ears turning red, evidently flustered.

"They know what?" he prompted, leaning forward to have a better look at your face to assess your mood.

But then you said, "You're distracting me."

"And you're being evasive."

"If you don't want to spend time with me, just say so." In an abrupt swerve which made his life flash before his eyes, you pulled over to the side of the road, letting go of the steering wheel after you killed the engine. "Drive us home then."

You motioned to remove your seat belt, but Nanami stopped you, shaking his head. Why anything never went right when he was dealing with you was beyond him. "That's not it at all."

"Then what?" you snapped.

Damn, he thought. If the two of you were already fighting the way you are at present, he couldn't imagine how things would be once you were in an actual relationship. Then again, maybe it was the confusion as to what was happening that was causing the unwarranted tension between you two.

He sighed. "You're just too erratic. I can't keep up."

"And you're too fucking vanilla!" you growled.

Nanami was appalled that you would say that same comment in such a way. Leveling his ire with yours, he spat, "That's rich coming from you. Didn't you date that Kamo kid?"

You were stunned at his citation of your former relationship, even more so at his childish attempt at spiting you. It was so atypical of him. "You..." You jabbed a finger at him, about to spit fire when you realized that he cared enough to notice. Your brows knit together. "How did you know about that?"

"You think I wouldn't notice that he's been following you around like a lovestruck puppy during last year's autumn festival?" Nanami scoffed, sneering. "A person like you with someone more boring than the vanilla you claim that I am?"

He was being petty, he knew it, too. The look on your face as you just ogled him in stunned silence says it all. It was as if you never expected him to ever retort the way he did. It was really unusual if he would say so himself since he never really indulged you enough to actually argue with you the way the two of you were doing at the moment.

Out of the blue, you burst out in a fit of giggles, the corners of your eyes watering. "Come to think of it, he acts more like an old man than you do..."

"You dare call me an old man?" He knew your argument was over, but he couldn't help but say it. There was an out of place sense of satisfaction that engaging you in a word joust gave him no matter how unintelligent and shallow it was about.

When you finally calmed down, you said, "I want you to have fun and have a sense of adventure for once. I swear I won't throw your dead body to the ocean."

His left eye twitched at your sentiment. "Well, if you put it that way..."

"Just say yes to me for once."

"I always say yes to you if you haven't noticed by now."

You snickered, starting the engine. "I want you to say yes to me now."

Nanami felt something tug at his chest. "Yes."

"Good." You leaned over and poked him on the cheek.

Nanami sat there, rolling down the window as you drove, letting lose and enjoying the scenery the car passed by on the way to the sea. For the first time in a long time, his face ached from smiling too much, unable to help it.

He knew it and he didn't care if he was doomed. He was in love with you, always have been and always will.

-end of part 3-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210716]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[nagito-kissmaeda]

A Lapse in Judgement - Part 4

CHAPTER ONE: A Dangrous Present CHAPTER TWO: A Past Forgotten CHAPTER THREE: A Foreshadowing CHAPTER FOUR: One Possible Conclusion CHAPTER FIVE: Untethered

Komaeda Nagito x Ultimate Empath!Reader

Summary: Deep down you always knew that it would end this way. Contains: she/her pronouns, emotional torture, canon major character death, suicide ment Read on AO3

You should have seen it coming. Komaeda was weirdly distant after you escaped the funhouse, alone in his room and not answering even when you pleaded for him to open the door. You should have seen the signs, you should have kicked the door down. There were so many things you should have done, but did not.  It made sense that someone would finally take the initiative and get rid of him after the bomb threat, you might even have forgiven them if it had been a gun to the head or a knife to the heart. 

You cup his face in your hands, staring hopelessly into a set of eyes with nothing behind them. Praying that if you look for long enough you will feel something, anything to prove that he is still in there somewhere. Your throat is dry and raw from a constant string of screams and sobs that you can't even hear. 

“Hey, c’mon. You have to get up.” Hinata says, reaching out and resting a hand on your shoulder.

You whirl around and the pity living behind the eyes of six different people slams into you. It only makes you angrier, “I am not leaving him.” you suck a breath in through your teeth, hot tears pouring down your face, “One of you did this .” you gesture to the empty vessel that had once held the soul of the man you loved, “Someone tortured him. You know perfectly well that he wouldn’t have resisted if someone tried to kill him. They didn't have to do this, they could have just stabbed him and been done with it, but no . The mother fucker tortured him.” you turn back to the body and brush some of the bloody hair away from his forehead, “You can do your worthless little investigation around me, but I am not moving.”

Your hear Hinata sigh behind you and suggest that everyone start investigating elsewhere for now. Sonia mutters some words of apology in your direction, but you ignore her and listen as only five sets of shoes leave the warehouse. Your fingers cart shakily through Komaeda’s hair and you ask, “Why are you still here?” 

Kuzuryu rounds the body and drops into a crouch on the other side. He doesn't say anything, he just stares at you. Behind his eyes you can feel more than just pity, it’s deeper, more complex. Empathy, guilt, understanding . 

“You know what i'm trying to say right?” He huffs, “I don't really understand how your weird-ass talent works, but you felt that. Didn’t you?”

“Oh.” You whisper, heart tensing with a sudden realisation, “Pekoyama.”

He turns away from you, a silent indication that these emotions were for him and him alone, “Yeah.” he says. 

You sniffle, trying to stop yourself from crying again while gently stroking Komaeda’s cheekbone with your thumb, “He was scared of dying alone.”

Kuzuryu doesn't say anything, but he also makes no move to leave.

“I know i probably couldn't have stopped it but, i wish i could have been there. I wish he could have seen me. I just hate…” your breathing is raggard, it’s hard to speak, “I know he did some fucked up shit, i know! But I loved him, I did and I don't even really know why. It’s just, it's...just-” your hands are looping around on eachother, circular, as you try to explain feelings that don't make sense, “-it’s like we’ve been here before. Like I love him because I already loved him, and will love him again and again and again ad infinitum.” You’re sobbing now, Kuzurya reaches across Komaeda’s corpse and rests a hand on your shoulder. A noise more like a shriek than a sob rips through you and your hands tangle in your hair, “I feel like i'm going crazy…” you whisper.  

“It’s grief.” He replies, “One day, we’ll both get over it.”

*

The trial is arduous. You were not around for much of the investigation, but that didn't matter to Monokuma, he dragged you kicking and screaming into the elevator and over to your podium. Everyone keeps looking at you, at the way your hair is frazzled from your grasping fingers and the barely dried tear tracks running down your cheeks. You can tell that Souda especially is just waiting for you to snap, like Komaeda once did. 

Your fingers are gripped white around the front of your podium, eyes locked only on the photograph across the room. Your mouth curls at the irony, that even he is staring at you. Judging you . 

Hinata is leading the discussion as usual, but there is a moment of silence every now and again. Like he is waiting for input from someone who cannot speak. A bottomless void, a lapse in more than just conversation. Hinata clenches his fist tight. 

You aren’t paying much attention, your talent has been acting up. You’ve been feeling things that aren’t even there, from a past life? From someone else’s? Nervous shaky hands cupping your cheeks, one hand and one glove slowly lifting the hem of your shirt. Lips that taste like summer and lips that taste like desperation. You can’t remember anything tangible, but god can you feel . Two sets of hands, two pairs of lips. Completely differently but irrecoverably similar. You feel like throwing up. 

“What do you think?” Hinata asks and you are ripped back to the present.

“Huh?” 

His brow is pulled tight, but his eyes are apologising to you and begging you to stay calm, “Would Komaeda commit suicide?” 

“I….WHAT? No!” You can’t believe it, you can’t believe the shit Hinata is trying to pull, “did you see the body? You think he did that to himself?!” 

Nanami turns to you. Giving you a gentle smile, “It’s okay.” She says, “we’re just working through it, but we need your help.” you’re shaking with a barely contained mania, teeth grinding and tears building in your eyes. Nanami just keeps smiling, and she means it. You can feel her fear, but even more than that, you can feel how deeply she cares for you. For all of you, “You knew him the best, didn’t you? Do you think he would do it?”

You feel calmer. Taking in a deep breath through your nose, “Not without a reason. He would never kill himself just for the sake of dying, he’s smart. He was trying to accomplish something.”

Nanami nods and rests a hand over her heart, “thank you. Considering what we found in his cabin, along with your testimony, I think it was more than just a suicide.”

What they found in the cabin was poison. Taken from the final dead room. You are dimly aware that it was probably in his pocket while he was fucking you, you turn your eyes to the ground. 

“We also found...one other thing.” Hinata mutters, he pulls an envelope out from his pocket and passes it over to you. Everyone is leaning in, trying to get a glimpse at what it is, “It was on the bookshelf, it’s addressed to you.”

Your hands are shaking as you grip the paper. You reach out and trace the lines of your name written in his messy handwriting. The envelope is still sealed.The trial continues. 

The reveal of the poison reveals a motive. Komaeda was trying to take the traitor down with him, the poison hidden in plain sight and his luck rolled the dice. Hinata runs through everything, piece by piece but there is no way to know who did it. No way to know who the traitor is. Unless of course, they come forward.

Nanami’s smile is heartbreaking. Hinata’s jaw is clenched tight when he realises the truth, whispering her name so gently so sweetly, like he is begging her to tell him that it’s all just a lie.  

You have a feeling though, twisting and turning in your stomach as Nanami begs for your votes. You try and ignore it to just vote for the traitor that Komaeda had wanted to kill, but the longer you waited the more the thought festered inside you. your fingers are still curled tightly around the envelope you don’t want to open, and his fingers are skill curled around your heart.

“Wait!” The word escapes from your mouth like a thunderclap, everyone’s eyes turn to you, “Please don't vote yet.”

Nanami tilts her head, a sweet smile on her lips that doesn't match the sorrow in her eyes “It’s okay. I need to go.”

You feel a tear spill over and run slowly down your cheek. Your hands are shaking, “Nanami. You don't .”

Souda groans, “I thought we were done! Why do you guys keep doing this?”

“Yeah.” Hinata says turning to you, “What is it? What happened?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you struggle to find the words. The room is closing around you and it feels like there is a vice affixed to your lungs, “What if he didn't want to kill the traitor. What if he wanted to kill everyone else?” 

“WHAT?” Souda screams, and the room fills with noise. Everyone is arguing and talking over each other, but you don't even hear it. Your fingers are shaking as you flip the envelope over, running your nail under the seam delicately, wanting to make sure it doesn't tear. (you don’t notice, but Monokuma is leaning forward with a grin on his face). It pops open and you reach inside. It isn't really a letter, it’s little more than a few worlds scrawled onto a notecard, but it changes to course of the trial all the same.

My life for yours

I love you

You clap a hand over your mouth and a sob rips through you. Tears rolling down your cheeks in rivlets as your body shakes, you collapse forward onto the podium. Your legs have given out. It was you . That moment in the funhouse, when his smile softed and his eyes turned bright, he thought the traitor was you . Because you took the time to love him, whatever sin he believed the rest of your cohort committed he thought you absolved. Innocent. You weren’t . He died for you and you weren't even the person he wanted to save. Did you even deserve to live now? Knowing it was a fictional version of yourself that he died for and not your true self? You knew the answer, and it made your next move just a little easier. 

You swallow, using your arms to push yourself back up. Breathing as deeply and evenly as you can, you force yourself to smile, “I killed him.” the words feel disgusting on your tongue, but they are true all the same, “It was me.” all the eyes in the room turn to you and you can feel them all, the confusion, the hatred, the sadness, it fills you up until you are bubbling over, crying and laughing all at once, “he thought i was the traitor. The grenade with the poison, I threw it. Nanami is innocent.” You pass the note back to Hinata, and his face pales when he reads it.

“But I thought…” Sonia starts, watching the realisation dawn on Hinata’s face, “I thought Nanami was the traitor.” 

“She is.” You say, “But...I was kind to him.” You turn to Hinata again, it’s hard to see him through your watery eyes, “Will you convince them for me?”

Hinata’s face is grave, but he nods.

*

There is little time for goodbyes. Just before Monokuma pulls you away, Nanami grabs you by the hand and smiles.

“They told me to keep an eye on the two of you.” She says, “What happens twice will always happen a third time.

”“What do you mean?”

A tear cascades down her cheek, you notice it glitters eerily in a way real tears never would, “love transcends memory.”

“Wait- Nanami what-” 

“ALL RIGHT! TIMES UP!” Monokuma yells, “And I have the perfect punishment ready for the Ultimate Empath.”

You grab Nanami’s hand tighter, desperation racing up your spine, “Nanami, what happened two times? You have to tell me please-”

A metal collar snaps around your throat and you’re tugged backwards, feet scrambling against the ground as it races under you. Your reach out a hand, Nanami’s name screeching from your lips but the familiar figures of your classmates grow smaller and smaller as you disappear down a hallway and into the darkness. Something slams you down in a small wooden chair, the room is pitch black and you can't see a single thing. 

You try to struggle and a set of metal shackles clamp around your wrists and ankles. It’s quiet. You can hear the sound of your rapid heartbeat and the whirring of machinery. You’re going to die. A sob catches in your throat and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the tears from spilling over. Then, a flash of light behind your eyelids, and something (or someone) comes up from behind you, forcing your eyes open.

 “No…” you whimper, struggling against your restraints with a new determination. The metal bites into your skin and you writhe and shake, your heart is pounding and you can't breathe , “NO! Don't make me look. Don't. PLEASE!” 

Whatever they are using to keep your eyes open does not relent. You are sobbing and begging and pleading, but they make you watch.

Komaeda is sticking the duct tape over his mouth. He lifts up the knife, and the determination in his eyes morphs into fear. His hand shakes, and he drives the knife into his thigh. You scream, trying so hard to escape that the chair is creaking and groaning under you. He stabs again and again and again. Knife down the arm, knife through the palm. You feel it all. Slamming your head backwards into the back of the chair, bitterly hoping that you’ll crack your skull open like an egg. You want to die. 

He is just lying there now. All alone. Staring up at the spear where it dangles above him. It hurts, it hurts so much. He is all alone, you left him to die all alone. You’re like a rabid animal, twisting and turning in the chair, unhinged and terrified. He is still just lying there . You can’t stop crying, your chest is hurting from the way your breath heaves and from the shrieks that won't stop leaving your throat. Then, a door opens. Now that you know to listen for it, you recognise the sound of monokuma panels toppling over, and the woosh as the curtain catches alight. The determination in his eyes is back, but then…

“Oh god! Is he back there?” That was your voice, “We need to put out this fire, if he’s back there he's going to die!”

Komaeda laughs behind the tape. Eyes softening. He loves you loves you loves you. He’s going to miss you. 

You aren't making any noise anymore, your mouth is hung open in a silent scream as you feel your heart beating in tandem with his, “I love you…too” you whisper, your voice shattered and wheezy.

His eyes open wider and for a moment you think he heard you, but then you realise what he heard was the sound of the fire grenades shattering. For the first time, during this whole ordeal, he feels regret. Just before the poison reaches him, he changes his mind, maybe he doesn't want to die. It kills you. Your very being is twisting and warping, your heart catches on a hook and is reeled back into shore, the tears running down your face begin to boil and steam. You watch him as he starts to writhe, screaming inaudibly behind the tape, struggling against his restraints as the poison enters his system....and you feel it.

Finality, relief, and a bittersweet goodbye. 

His eyes glaze over, and your soul rips in half.

But then, the joke is on Monokuma, because whatever he does to you, however he deals the final blow. It doesn't matter. You are no longer there. You’re in a classroom a million miles away, sitting on the windowsill with the boy you are in love with. His nervous fingers, gently intertwined with yours.

[utapriyanderes]

BLOOD SPLATTER PARTY-☆! - Yandere! ST☆RISH x Reader x Yandere! Quartet Night

Alternative Title: I Will Be The Only One To Have Your Heart

~~

Warning: Yanderes and everything that follows.

~~

(Quick Note: I did copy and paste this from my Wattpad account since it was originally a request and so you will see the same Author’s Note down below with me just editing out a few things. The reason why I’m posting it here as well is since it fits the blog’s theme so I thought you all would like it, and since I haven’t really done anything in awhile. So~, please enjoy!)

~~

   The sky above me is dyed in a red that's terrifying. I'm nowhere, but somewhere. I peel my attention away from the horrifying rain clouds above me to stare at my blank surroundings. It's like I'm trapped in a dense fog and all around me is grey and red. Even the grass from under me is like a grey-ish red. In front of me I see a shadow.

  It's shaped like a person. They are walking in the fog, towards me. Just looking at it scares me. As though this person is dangerous. So much that I want to run away. Except I can't. It's as though I'm paralyzed to this spot.

  I can't even close my eyes from the person approaching. They just keep coming, yet I can't see who they are. Before they take their first step into view… I'm back, staring at that red sky. The red sky that is now crying crimson tears. Staining everything in view that same color.

~~

  I awaken with a start and a cold sweat. I feel shivers go down my spine as I take in what I was dreaming about. I couldn't do anything once I noticed someone walking towards me. I pull my covers around me tighter. I've never felt so afraid before.

  It was definitely something I've never experienced before. The shadow coming closer to me with each step, and right before I'm able to see him, my vision turns red? Part of me really hopes that this was just a bad dream. The worst one I've ever had. I hope that it means nothing towards this reality.

  I huddle against my blankets, face pushed into them as I ignore the morning rays flooding in through the dorm's window. I rock gently back and forth but find myself jumping at the small touch of a hand.

  "(Y/N)-senpai, is everything alright?" My heartbeat lowers as I hear Haruka's gentle voice. I let out a breathy sigh as I move my head to look up at her, putting on a fake smile.

  "I'm fine Haruka! Just wanted to stay a bit longer in bed, but I'll get up now," I tell her. It's not my best acting job, but she seems to buy it. She looks at me and gives me a small smile and nod. As I get out of bed she leaves our shared room so I can use it.

  After getting myself ready and presentable for the day, I go ahead and look in the mirror. It's obvious I look distressed, but if I smile then I won't look so bad? I plaster on my face a smile to see how it looks. Still look horrible, but it's better than before. I move away from the mirror to go to the door. I take a few deep breaths to ready myself for the day before I put on another smile, and leave that nightmare behind.

~~

  Both groups are in the dining room today. Haruka is sitting with Otoya, Masato, and Natsuki today. The three of them look up at me directly at the same time it seems. They flash me smiles and waves, something I do back to my Kohais, ignoring the glazed eyes of Otoya and Natsuki. I go over and grab a small breakfast not finding much of an appetite.

  Food in hand I make my way over towards QUARTET NIGHT, until I'm stopped by a hand holding my wrist. I look over to see that it's Masato. A light blush is on his face but he still speaks without a stutter.

  "(L/N)-senpai. Is it alright if I tie up your hair?" I'm surprised by Masato's question and find it unlike him. I'm even more surprised that in his free hand he holds a royal blue hair tie. I find myself unable to respond to him.

  I try to think of an answer to tell him, but it's during that time where I notice the dense atmosphere around us. I break eye contact with Masato and look around. Everyone except for Haruka is looking at the both of us. Some are glaring and some aren't, but almost instantly as though it didn't happen everyone is doing their own thing again. Which also means, that I'm back deciding what to say to Masato.

  Thankfully though, Reiji comes to help me out.

  "Hey there Masarin~! Do you mind if I take (N/N) off your hands?" Reiji puts his arm around my shoulder as he starts leading me away. When I look at Masato though it's as though something inside of him just broke. I've seen that look on him before, and he starts to get agitated as well. Normally it ends with him going to wash his hands or going to the waterfall.

  I place my attention back over towards Reiji and the Quartet, shrugging off Masato's uncharacteristic behavior. It's probably due to the stress of being an idol anyway. At the table I go and sit down, smiling to everyone.

  "He didn't bother you too much, did he?" Ranmaru speaks to me, nodding his head over towards his still distraught kohai. I shake my head at him, "It's fine. Nothing to worry about."

  I start to eat my one item, but before I do I stop myself by feeling watched. I look back up to see the four males looking at me.

  "U-Umm, is there something wrong?" I ask them getting a bit flustered underneath their stares.

  "Yes," Ai speaks.

  "You don't seem 'happy' today," he finishes. I close my mouth from taking a bite and swallow hard. I place what I took on the table. Suddenly, I don't feel hungry at all anymore. I look back up to see all four of them staring at me again.

  Quickly I look away. I should be able to tell them about my dream, by being beside them for so long. Except, they shouldn't have to worry about it. They are too busy with their idol careers to try to help me with my problems. So, by plastering on another fake smile I look at them.

  "Oh? Did I seem unhappy? Well, it's nothing to fret over… you guys probably have work soon too, don't you?" I try to speak to them casually and hope that they have work to go to today.

  "You can tell us. We're off today," Ai answers again.

  "W-Well, what if I have work today?" I say to him. He shakes his head at my words.

  "All of us are off today except Nanami," he rebuttals. I drop my head at his words.

  "It's okay kiddo! You don't have to tell us about it if you don't want too! Just know that you can come to me anytime alright~!" Reiji tries to lift my spirits and it does a bit. I look up at him, but notice the rest of the Quartet sending him glares. This isn't the first time they sent him glares like that, but if looks could kill, then rest in peace Reiji.

  "You can come to me as well. Don't let this rare opportunity go wasted," Camus tells me. I smile a little and nod my head at his words. I go ahead and stand up from seat and reach out to grab my leftover, uneattened food.

  "Wait! We'll take care of it. Just go do what you have to do!" Reiji stops me. I look over to him and give him a small smile with a nod.

  "Okay, I'll leave it to you four then. If you need me I'll be in music room eight," I tell them leaving to go to the location I said I was going to be in. As I walk down the hallway Tokiya, Ren, and Syo join me.

   "Hello Lady. Where are you going all by yourself?" Ren asks me flirtatiously. I tell the three of them where I'm heading and they decide to join me.

  "Oh? Did Haruka leave already?" I ask them.

  "Not yet, but she'll probably leave soon!" Syo says to me. I nod my head at him.

  "(Y/N), was something wrong earlier? It looked liked our senpais put you in distress," Tokiya speaks to me.

  "No, not at all actually! I'm fine, so please don't look down on your senpais because of how I acted!" I reply almost instantly. I don't want him to think that his senpais were the ones that made me sad. Instead it was just due to me not doing a good job controlling my emotions.

   "If you say so. I'll believe you then (Y/N)," Tokiya says back to me reassured. I smile at him happy he understands. When we reach the door I go ahead and open it. To my surprise, Cecil is sitting on the piano bench.  

  Behind me the three males that followed me don't look so happy that he's here.

  "Cecil, are you using this room?" I ask him as I approach the piano. He looks up at me and then behind me.

  "Hmm? Tokiya, Syo, and Ren are here as well?" Cecil speaks surprised but confused as to why they are here. I hear Syo mumble in discontent.

   "I was expecting to have you all to myself," Cecil tells me, staring directly into my eyes. How Cecil is staring at me makes me uncomfortable so I look away. Suddenly Ren stands in front of me.

  "You do know that's cheating. Right Cesshi?" Ren speaks coolly over towards the prince. I don't think I've ever heard him speak like that before, but what does he mean by cheating? How could spending time with me alone be cheating?

  "It won't matter soon enough. It's time to head back," Tokiya speaks now. The four of them look at me and tell me that we all should go to the lounging area. I try to ask them why but they refuse to tell me, leaving me no choice but to follow.

  When we reach the lounging area everyone else is already there, except for Haruka of course. On sight of seeing me everyone walks to form a horizontal line in front of me. Including the four I came with. STARISH is on my left while QUARTET NIGHT is on my right.

  "W-What are you guys…" I'm left speechless as I try to comprehend why they are lined up like this. Suddenly all of their eyes are on me.

  "(Y/N), we all have a very important question to ask you," Masato tells me.

  "We spent a long time planning a day like this! I'm so excited to hear your answer!" Natsuki enthusiastically tells me.

  "No matter what we'll respect your answer, okay?!" Otoya talks about respecting my decision, but what am I deciding exactly? Then suddenly all eleven of them stare at me seriously.

  "(Y/N)... Which one of us have captured your heart?" They all ask me in unison. I feel my heart stop beating along with my breath. Did they really just ask me something like that?!

  Slowly but progressively my breathing and heartbeat starts back up. I try to calm myself down and try to find any sense in all of this.

  "W-What?! What do you all mean by that?!" I yell at them under the pressure of their intense stares. As I look into each of their eyes it's obvious that they aren't joking around at all. They are completely serious about this.

   My expression most likely shows a face of disbelief and confusion. Otoya is the first one to step out of line.

  "Come on (Y/N)-chan! All you have to do is choose one," Otoya tells me with a soft almost loving smile on his face. His hand is reached out and he starts to move closer to me. Except, before he can reach me… A sharp blade pierces through his chest.

  That loving gaze is crushed by pain. He starts spurting out blood from his mouth in coughs. I'm frozen to the spot at the sight of it. I can't do a single thing except watch this horrific sight in front of me. That silver blade, dyed red pulls out of the red headed puppy, making him fall to the floor. All life leaving his eyes, dead.

  "That was cheating Ittoki-san," the voice in front of me belongs to someone I would never expect. I look up from Otoya's corpse to see Masato wiping off some blood on his cheek.

  "M-Masa…" I can still barely comprehend what just happened. I don't want to process what happened. Did I wake up from a nightmare, just to go back into another one? I can't stay here. I can't look at this.

  I give one last look at Otoya on the floor in a puddle of his own blood. I shake my head and run away.

~~

  I didn't have a destination in mind and just ran to whatever room I felt was far enough. Which ended up being music room eight. As soon as I entered the room I left the lights off and placed myself in the darkest corner I could find. I bring my knees up to my chest and start crying. I didn't even realize how much I was shaking before.

  The sunlight coming in from the windows gets dimmed, but I'm too scared to notice. I stay in this position for I don't know how long. I just know I jump when I hear a knock at the door.

  "(Y/N)... Are you in here?" It's Syo.

  "(Y/N), I'm going to come in okay? I won't hurt you I promise!" I huddle deeper into my corner at Syo's words. How can I trust his words? Especially after what Masato did?

  I hold back another sob as I think about earlier. I hear the door open and hear him walk in. It takes less than a minute for him to notice where I was hiding. He comes over and crouches down in front of me.

  "Hey, (Y/N). It's alright I'm here now. I'll protect you from everyone alright?" Syo speaks to me gently but I still refuse to look up. He touches me lightly making me squirm back and look at him.

  All over his outfit is blotches of blood. His knuckles are red and bloody as though he just got into a fist fight. His face and hair is a little disoriented as well. How he looks terrifies me. Yet his eyes scare me the most.

  That same loving gaze as Otoya. Tears flow out of me again at the thought.

  "H-How… can you… not… be, upset?" I try to get out my question as best as I can, without fully breaking down. Syo looks at me with a tilt of his head looking a tiny bit taken aback.

  "Why would I care about what happened to him? You're all I care about (Y/N). I'll do everything to protect you," Syo's words to me feel cold and heartless. How can he not care about his best friend's death? I'm about to yell at him, but someone stumbles harshly into the door frame.

  "You're… such a fighter… Shorty," I look over at the door to see Ren standing there. He's leaning against the frame, but smoothly pushes himself up. He's covered in blood too. Just like Syo it's like he got into a fist fight. Syo's face turns ice cold as he looks back at Ren. He clicks his tongue.

  "Try all you will! I won't give her to you! She needs to be protected from men like you!" Syo yells at him. He's sitting in front of me as though I'm the most precious gem in the world.

  Ren looks at him with a sly smirk and chuckles painfully to himself.

  "You know I can't have that Shorty… She belongs to me after all," Ren coughs up some blood right before getting all of his strength to throw a dart into each of Syo's eyes. Syo crys out in pain and I jump back. A evil smirk gets placed on Ren's lips as Syo moves to stand.

  "Hmm? It seems I've missed… my target." As Syo gets into position to charge at him. Ren takes out his hidden knife and throws it directly into Syo's head. Syo staggers back towards me making me move. He hits the wall and slowly sinks down.

  I bring my hand over my mouth. As I look at the corpse of Syo Kurusu. The darts in his eyes squirt out blood and I can still see some white from his eyes mixing with it. The knife stuck in his skull trails blood down the rest of his face. I get up from my spot ready to run.

  Except instead, I run straight into a broad bloody covered chest. I hear another chuckle from up above me. I shake as I'm entrapped in his arms.

  "I knew you would come to me in the end... Lady," Ren speaks smoothly and deeply. I'm frozen. My ear is pressed against his chest and something in it sounds wrong, sounds broken. Even his breathing is irregular.

  "R-Ren… I-I think, s-something is w-wrong," I try to point it out to him, so maybe he would let me go. His breathing stops for a split second. He was going to reply but a whole coughing fit of blood stops him. He let's go of me but continues to hold my wrist. He hunches over as the blood keeps coming.

  "Heh… Shorty really... messed... me up… good," Ren says between harsh breathing and blood coming out of his mouth. I try to free myself but his grip is too tight. It isn't until there is too much blood, to hard to breathe. He lets me go and falls to the floor. The same process continues, all until he is breathing harshly in his own pile of blood.

  He looks over towards me trying to flash me a dashing smile, "L-ady… Yo...u'll… sta..y?"

  I stare as I watch the life leave his eyes. I shake but peel myself to look away. I have to leave, I have to go. With all my might I pass Ren's corpse and run. I'm too scared to notice the storm clouds brewing, to completely notice that I'm running in the dark with the windows as my light, to notice… the metallic smell of blood all around me.

~~

  I run through doors and end up falling on the cool floor. The source being due to a patch of blood. I sit up and look down at my clothes. Blood is on it due to Ren and now where I fell. I want to just sit there and cry.

  Cry over what has been happening, cry over the loss of friends turned mad. The only thing that stops me from doing this is the harsh clatter and clanking I hear from the other side of the room. On hearing it I crawl over to hide underneath a table.

  "A dandelion head like you doesn't deserve to have such a majestic ruler like her at their side!" I can hear Camus' booming voice from all around the room.

  "Tch, cut it with the crap already! All you're good for is ruining good things! I won't let you ruin her like you've done with everything else!" Ranmaru is on the other end.

  "Don't compare her to your Bananas peasant!" Camus verbally strikes back. I close my eyes as I hear them go back and forth. If no one died and if I wasn't covered in blood while hiding underneath a table. Then I would've thought about it as any other argument. Except it's not. I am in that situation, they are fighting seriously, I'm the center of their fighting.

  How did it get like this? I cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from sobbing loudly.

  "Stop hiding behind cheap metal! ...If you refuse to fight me head on, then that means I'm bound to win," Camus' voice reaches my ears again. The clanking is getting frequent and louder. Ranmaru doesn't even try to make a come back. Instead he lets his grunting be his reply.

  I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I hear one last clang to the floor before I hear blade meeting flesh. Just like with Otoya I hear blood sputter out of his mouth. Once the blade gets removed he falls to the floor.

  I have to bring my other hand up from sobbing full out.

  "Hmph, I was right," Camus says nonchalantly. I can hear footsteps now approach my table but turn in the direction of the door. I hear the double doors open and close. I don't move from my spot until I can no longer hear his footsteps. When I do get up I debate on looking at Ranmaru or not.

  I probably stood there for a good five minutes before I decided against it. Even though I should, it's just hard.

  The double doors in front of me open before I could hide or react to it. Is it Camus coming back? Except it's not. Instead, I am greeted by Reiji.

  "H-Hey there kiddo!" Reiji speaks unsure to me, but he's trying to raise either my mood, or his. I look at Reiji to see blood on his person. Though I think I'm starting to get used to it. Reiji at least seems somewhat normal to me, but before I could say anything back.

  "(Y/N)!" Tokiya comes rushing in. He is also covered in blood. Except something is wrong. His left arm is completely severed off.

  "Ah, Toki. D-Did Masarin do this?" Reiji talks of Masato. Did Tokiya and him get into a fight? Tokiya looks at Reiji sternly.

  "Yes. That is correct," Tokiya replies bluntly. I feel myself freeze at Tokiya's words. Tokiya notices.

  "It's alright (Y/N). Let's go to the hospital and get the police," Tokiya speaks normally as though he wasn't crazy. I can't believe him though. How can he not be freaking out right now? How can he not show a hint of emotion except calm?!

  I think if I was alone with him I would've believed him, and I do feel sorry about his arm. Reiji is here though, and I can't even trust him completely!

  "Toki, it's easy to tell when you're lying," Reiji speaks to Tokiya almost like he was back to normal. Without Tokiya noticing Reiji moves to stand in front of me. I look at Tokiya. His normal calm expression drops. Instead a look of deep emotion gets placed.

  "Hmm, what do you mean Kotobuki-senpai? Even if it was, it's not like you are going to do anything to stop me," Tokiya shows a wicked smile over to Reiji. I look at Reiji and start to back myself up from them.

  "You're right Toki. I don't want to hurt you," Reiji seriously speaks to Tokiya. Tokiya laughs loudly to himself.

  "So, you're not 'serious' yet it seems. Mikaze-senpai was right. You are a coward. You don't deserve her," Tokiya talks as though Reiji is a piece of dirt on his shoe. I hate it. I hate how it's always because of me.

  Tokiya punches Reiji harshly across the face with his fist. Reiji stumbles back.

  "I know you have a knife in your back pocket. Use it. Fight me Kotobuki-senpai." Tokiya leaps on Reiji before he even has a chance to reach for it. He keeps sending that same punch to Reiji's face. I feel defenseless as I watch this happen.

  "...Tokiya! Stop it!" I yell out to him. Tokiya's crazy expression comes up to meet my eyes. I stumble back as he gets off of Reiji to come towards me.

  "T-Tokiya.. H-How about we go t-to the h-hospital… y-yeah?" I try to calm him down by bring up what he said earlier. He staggers over to me and cups my face. Stuck on the end of a table I'm forced to accept it. He smiles almost normally to me.

  "So you agree then. Alright let-"  blood. He got interrupted by a slash of the throat. He removes his hand and tries his best to cover his throat. Blood comes out his mouth like the others. He looks up to me, desperate. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he falls to the ground. Motionless.

  My mouth drops open like it has so many times today. I look up to see Reiji. His eyes hold almost a crazed gleam to them.

  "I'm sorry my girl. But I wouldn't allow him to have you! You should be mine and mine only~!" I slap Reiji. I had to will every bone in my body to do it.

  Why? ...Why?! I didn't want this. A day like today. Why?! Why would he do that?! Fresh tears come out of me as Reiji rubs his cheek. He looks down at Tokiya's lifeless body.

  Reiji looks at him with saddened eyes, but he doesn't cry. Instead he just picks him up.

  "R-Reiji!" I yell to him, but he stops me from continuing.

  "Come on (N/N). Let's talk hmm?" I don't reply and instead decide to follow him. He leads me out of the room as I stay somewhat closely behind him. Covering most of the walls and floor is blood.

  It doesn't even feel like I'm in the Master Course anymore. After a while of walking we come into a very familiar room. I don't follow him in at first. I don't want to go into this room again. I know who's in here.

  Reiji stops a few feet ahead of me and turns back around. He gives me a small but grave smile. He nods his head as I shake mine.

  "Come on kiddo. It will be alright with your big brother here to protect you!" Reiji still tries to lighten my mood despite what's going on, despite what he did. I suck in my breath and look down at my feet. There is so much blood right under my shoes.

  It might be better to look at the blood, instead of who's in that room. Slowly I walk in the room I only take a few steps in and continue to look at the blood stained floor.

  "Alright. Look up (Y/N)." Reiji tells me to look up but I shake my head refusing to. I hear Reiji walk over to me and pat my back with his bloody hands. Despite me not wanting to look up, I decide to anyways.

  I shake at the sight, no, I fall to my knees at the sight. I cover my mouth as I feel all the tears I've had well up inside me again. I close my eyes and lower my head at the gruesome sight. In this once happy lounging area. Everyone who died except Ranmaru is in here.

  All sitting on a big couch beside each other. Tokiya is on the right sitting by Otoya. Otoya is also sitting by Syo, who is also sitting by Ren. All of them still look the same as when they died, except now you can start noticing how dead they all are through the short amount of time except Tokiya.

  The wave of the rotting, metallic air makes me cover my nose. It's horrible and I'm now just noticing it? I cry to myself as I hear Reiji walk away and sit on something.

  "R-Reiji… W-W-Why…?" I try to voice out how I feel about this as I sob. Reiji spends time not saying anything at all. Until he does.

  "I don't know either. It just seemed nice to have everyone together, right (N/N)?" I don't reply to Reiji's question. I hear a small sad chuckle come from his lips.

  "I'm sorry for my Kohais… but at least none of us have left yet." I think about how Camus killed Ranmaru right before Reiji came. I cry a bit harder at the thought. I was close to the Quartet by being there composer afterall. We spend these next few moments in sad silence and loud sobbing.

  As soon as I've calmed down and let everything out I stand up to move towards Reiji. I stare at the floor the whole time, and then at the couch we sit on.

  "(Y/N)," Reiji says my name gently. He moves his hand out to touch my shoulder, but pulls back. I look up at him. In the corner of my eyes I catch a glimpse at the four corpses. I shut my eyes.

  "Reiji… what happened… when I left?" I ask him quietly. Reiji looks down at the bloodied couch with me.

  "Do you really want to know?" He asks me quietly. I know he's asking this to look out for me, but I'm the reason this started, that this even happened. I have to know.

  "Yes, tell me Reiji." I feel Reiji look up at me. I go up to look at him as well and see a flurry of emotions in his eyes. He takes in a shaky breath before speaking.

  "You choose no one," Reiji tells me this one line. It takes a minute for me to fully understand what he means.

  "Y-You mean…?" I talk quietly to him. As though they could hear me. Reiji looks at me seriously.

  "Even before you ran away… We all decided that if you couldn't choose someone. Then the last one stand-"

  "No! Stop it!" I cut Reiji off. I don't want to hear it. Why would they even decide something like that?! I turn away from Reiji's saddened eyes.

  Why does all of this murder have to happen because of me?! I stand up from the couch.

  "My girl-" I don't listen to him. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't want this at all! Not being able to stand another minute in this room I run out. Like I did once before.

~~

  The wrecked brunette looks at the girl's retreating form. His eyes glaze over as his head swarms with all of the things he should've done.

  "Our girl was right in your grasp and you left her go?"

  "You could've locked her up to make sure she never escaped like he did."

  "Except you just care too much about your kohais, about your group."

  "Idiot, she was the one! She was our number one girl!"

  "You really are a coward, Reiji."

  That last voice snaps him out. That one wasn't in his head at all. He turns his head over towards the source.

  Ai.

  Reiji smiles up towards the younger male. Yet the younger male holds no smile or emotion at all.

  "You've given up haven't you," Ai continues to speak to him.

  "You always give up. I thought you would be serious about this, but it seems it's the same." Reiji knows that this isn't the sweet Ai-Ai he knows! Though he does nothing to fight back.

  "Reiji, you've always been weak. I can't have someone like you be with her. This is the end." Ai doesn't have a weapon but he already knows how he plans on killing him.

  Ai wraps his hands around Reiji's neck and squeezes tight. Reiji closes his eyes causing tears to fall down from his glassy eyes. A smile is placed on his face.

  "Ai… I'm… sorry," the only words Reiji was able to breath out, right before he died.

~~

  I turn a corner and find myself stopping short. It's Camus and Cecil. They are fighting in the hallway.

  “You won’t be able to cherish her like I can!” Cecil is using his magic against the knight. Camus is trying with all of his might to pierce the prince with his rapier. A huge glass window is right behind Cecil.

  Camus is about to say something back to him, until he spots me. I freeze meeting his gaze. He flashes me a smirk before standing straight up. Cecil smiles as he relaxes. His face shows that he must be winning.

  I close my eyes. With a brief swish of Camus’ hand frozen air entraps Cecil, freezing him. Then with another swoosh, air comes and pushes Cecil, right through the second story window. Right after I hear the crash of the glass, a second later, another glass shattering crash follows.

  I hold in a cry for Cecil as I open my eyes. Camus is walking straight towards me, confidently. I back up slowly before I run again. Back down the staircase, through multiple hallways. Until I’m finally, outside. The first thing I notice is the storm clouds up above me. I instantly find them familiar.

  They’re just like in my dream, except not red. I hear Camus’ footsteps from behind me, still in the building. I run again, the master course is surrounded by a forest, so there must be somewhere!

  Yet, I’m left running to an open field. I stand in the center of it and try to decide on where to go next. Heavy breathing I decided to continue to go straight. I ready myself, but stop. Masato comes out covered in a lot more blood than I saw out of everyone else.

  “(Y/N),” Masato lets out a calm breath and smiles at me. It takes him a few seconds to fully notice the blood covering me. His brows furrowed and he steps closer.

  “W-Who touched you?” Masato’s voice comes out in worried tones. He continues to move closer to me, but before he touches me. He gets tackled to the ground. I jump at the sudden movement. Masato gets a furious punch.

  “How dare you hurt Natsuki! Are you going to hurt her now as well?!” It’s Satsuki. A stab wound can be seen right above his abdomen, gushing out blood. Masato gets another punch, blood clearly coming out of his nose and mouth.

  “I, would never hurt her… Unlike you, Satsuki.” Another punch. Satsuki pulls him up by his collar.

  “What was that...?! ...You can’t do anything without that rapier you stole! At least I can protect them both... you can barely protect yourself!” Satsuki grabs hold of Masato’s neck. All I can do is watch as he suffocates him, except it’s worse than that. Satsuki almost effortlessly rips Masato’s head completely off his body.

  I have to cover my mouth from throwing up at the sight. You can see the tissues and muscles coming apart. The blood starting to gush and form all over the green grass from under them. The crack and breaking of bone. Masato’s screams as it happened. Then to see his eyes rolled back right before Satsuki throws it to the other side of the field.

  Satsuki gets up from Masato’s body and swiftly pulls me into a hug. I don’t move a single muscle. I don’t even breath. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds onto me tightly.

  His grip tightens when we hear rustling from behind me. He looks up.

  “Satsuki coming out was to be expected,” I hear Ai’s voice. I try to turn around and look at him, but Satsuki makes sure to hold my head in place. I hear a “hmph” in reply and know that it’s Camus alongside him.

  “Unhand her and I’ll let you go this once peasant!” I know for sure as soon as I hear his confident voice.

  “Like I’ll let you have her? She’s all that Natsuki wants! I won’t disappoint him!” Satsuki’s voice rings in my ear from being so close.

  “You fool! You won’t win against me!” Camus shouts and I hear something drop. Suddenly I am surrounded by a cool wind which goes in between me and Satsuki. The wind was strong enough to pull us apart. The wind pushes me all the way over towards Camus and Ai.

  Ai grabs hold of me. I look over towards Satsuki and see him trying to run towards me. Camus keeps building up the frosty wind using one hand. He then raises up his other and creates ice crystals. He then uses those ice crystals to pierce Satsuki in his heart, then his head. Satsuki falls down onto his knees. Before he falls over onto the ground, you can see his face turning softer, gentler, as though Natsuki just came back to him.

  I’ve should’ve gotten use to seeing my friends die, but right now this sadness is the only thing making me feel sane. I thought it was over, but it’s not. When Camus drops his hands to come face me and Ai. Ai leaves my side and picks up something from the ground. I see a flash of silver before Camus’ head completely comes off in one swift cut.

  I see his body fall to the floor and his head roll. Ai looks at Camus’ body in, what seems to be, content. He moves his attention over towards me. He smiles happily to me with a loving glaze over his eyes. From behind him I see Camus’ frosty wind settling as a fog around us. Ai is the only person, only thing, I can see. Besides the rain clouds up above.

  “(Y/N)... You’re mine now.” Ai starts walking over towards me, I take a step back.

  “(Y/N), I won’t hurt you. I love you.” I shake my head at him as I start to tremble.

  “A-Ai… t-that isn’t l-love,” I say to him. He shakes his own head at me and smiles. He walks faster and pulls me into a hug, dropping the rapier.

  “Don’t you get it (Y/N)? I Will Be The Only One To Have Your Heart,” Ai speaks honestly to me. I don’t like it one bit. This isn’t Ai! This wasn’t any of them!

  “Ai! Snap out of it! This isn’t you!” I can hear thunder in the distance. Ai cups my face and makes me stare deeply into his eyes.

  “(Y/N), you need to snap out of it. I’m right here beside you giving you all my love. This is love isn’t it? So become mine for eternity already.” The rain pours. The blood from Masato, Natsuki, and Camus stain it red. The blood from me and Ai does as well. My lips quiver and my eyes gloss over. Slowly Ai pulls my head towards him until our lips meet in a unsavory kiss.

  Even if I try to fight it will be no use. He’ll still chase after me and try to win me over again and again. I’m tired by today’s events. I don’t want anymore people to be killed! Even if I have to be a prisoner to him...

  Tears mix in with the rain. My nightmare was true. If only I never woken up at all.

~~END~~

~~Extended Ending~~

  Haruka never came back that day. No one came back to the Master Course at all. Shining didn’t contact us and we were left by our lonesome. I still had hope Reiji was alive, but that quickly vanished as soon as I saw his corpse on the couch I left him on. When we came back that day Ai advised me to take a shower and get some rest, which I did.

  Sometime during the night Ai joined me in my bed. Looking at his sleeping face he seemed almost normal. As though the previous events have never happened. I ended up falling back asleep somehow but I would always get reawakened by nightmares. Nightmares of that same day.

  Ai always reassured me. When the sun would come up he would always greet me warmly and give me breakfast. He didn’t want me leaving my room until he was done with everything. I don’t know what he was doing, but it had to of been cleaning up everything. What else could there of been?

  Months went by before I was able to come out. Ai gave me a happy and content smile as he held my hand. He showed me around our new house. Every bedroom of theirs was now bare. No more blood or corpses. The window was even fixed.

  Ai told me how great this place was for us. It was far enough away from people and it had everything we needed. Eventually Ai also got rid of Haruka’s stuff and replaced it with his. We would go on dates in the forest, and that empty field turned into a garden. We would also have tea out their together sometimes as well. We even got married out there.

  Everything was nice and calm.   Everything was perfect just like how he wanted. I was by his side forever. It will always stay like that.

~~END~~

~~Extended Extended Ending~~

  I awaken with a start. I tremble and shake. I look down at my hands gripping at the bedsheets on top of me. Hot tears stream down my face as I try to figure where I am, who might be with me.

  “(Y-Y/N)?” The familiar voice makes my head shoot straight up. A new set of tears well up in my eyes.

  “(Y/N)-chan! You’re alright!” The sunflowers he brought drop to the ground. Otoya comes rushing up to me and gives me a big hug.

  “O-Oto-” I can’t even fully say his name before I burst out crying. Not hearing more people come in.

  “(Y/N)!” I hear my name said in unison with six voices. I open my eyes and look behind Otoya. The rest of STARISH is there all with smiling faces and tears in their eyes. I cry harder as me and Otoya let go. Behind them QUARTET NIGHT enters.

  I can barely see them as my vision is blurry. It’s so nice to see everyone like this. Even Ai. To see him and everyone normal. QUARTET NIGHT comes to both sides of me and greets me with smiles with tears from Reiji.

  “...I ...missed… all… of you,” I try to make out through my sobbing. Reiji pats the top of my head.

  “We did too kiddo.”

~~END~~

A/N

I do have a few things to talk about on this oneshot.

The first thing is how I feel like some characters are out of character. (I also don't mean that by them being yanderes. I mean just in general.) I thought a lot about everything regarding this and fixed a lot of stuff up when I went to proofread. Yet I still don't feel fully satisfied by some chosen words of dialouge and stuff, so I'm apologizing about it now.

On another note I did logically choose the winner based on how I view their Yandere stereotypes and characters in general.

Also, I think this is pretty obvious, but just in case. I do want to mention how no one should want a Yandere in real life. If this oneshot already wasn't apparent about it enough, then I'm saying bluntly now. Get the police if someone acts like this around you or a friend/family member.

I try to make my oneshots in general light and happy and enjoyable for everyone, so I'm sorry for anyone who doesn't feel that in this oneshot and authors note. (It feels a little depressing to me to be honest. Though normally I don't like heading in this direction (in my author notes) but I guess it's a must for this one.

Continuing on that I accept any and all complaints about this oneshot.

Thank you all who read this long oneshot and author's note. I appreciate it!

[magioftheseas]

How about kamukoma/komahina aspects of dr3 that you would add/change?

Ack, I really need to get to the rest of these. Well, what better time than the present?

Well, all the same, here goes! It got a little long so it’s under a read more for now.

Happy Valentines Day. :D

Now, this could go one of two ways: they either met or they didn’t. If they don’t meet then obviously there’s not going to be much additions in dr3 save for…a few things.

I like the idea of being the world’s fucking biggest tease and having either them juuuuuust missing each other (like Komaeda leaves after talking with Matsuda just as Hinata arrives to talk to Matsuda) or having them bump into each other briefly, Komaeda quickly apologizing and hurrying on his way as Hinata stares after him, a little starstruck and then asking Matsuda about him, irritating Matsuda even more than he usually is.

“Is that one of the elites?”

“Do you value your life and sanity?”

“W-What?!”

“Stay on subject, you reserve course gorilla.”

But if they do know each other:

The fountain is one of their meeting places, too. And they either met from Komaeda lugging around a bag of soda and needing to sit down or Komaeda ending up crashing into the fountain due to a prior explosion of bad luck. The latter would be funnier, especially since Hinata would meet Nanami the same way (though she just walks into it like an idiot), and Hinata just complaining “why doesn’t just talent itself fall from the sky”. (Side note: I need to find a way to work in Izuru getting into the fountain, too. Somehow. Some way.)

Their relationship is initially curt with Komaeda polite if distant only to get irritated with how pushy Hinata is (due to being worried about him). Hinata gets snappy too and they’re like huffy children, more so when Komaeda finds out about him making friends.

Despite that, they meet again for various reasons that Komaeda relates to bad luck (broken soda machines, getting chased by dogs, losing a button in the fountain), and despite the tsuning at each other, they actually talk quite a bit at length and despite being annoyed with him, Hinata finds himself engrossed in Komaeda’s speaking, even when it causes twinges in his chest when Komaeda parrots toxic ideals that Hinata had, too, internalizes. They actually talk about Komaeda’s class, and Hinata is initially blindsided by how Komaeda utterly lights up when talking about them. He sees that light dull more the class mistreats him, but Komaeda never tells him anything’s wrong so Hinata’s just left with a bad feeling.

Honestly, basically their relationship in that Not Tomorrow fic I wrote like…in late 2016. Yeah, pretty much that. Minor tweaking may be a thing, but I can’t really think of anything major.

Actually, what would be a new major change/addition involving KomaHina in dr3 that I’m thinking would be a scene that shows them in the island simulation together because it’s such bullshit that we don’t get any “can you hear me?” scene even if the OVA (which is Valid) rectified that.

But what happens is Hinata getting a headache suddenly and ending up in tears because of it, making Komaeda give him a handkerchief while fretting over him. Hinata waves it off in part because he’s not sure what’s even happening there.

It’s because of Kamukura crying through him because FUCK THAT SCENE. He’s not crying about Nanami, mind you. Hell to the fuck no. But he is crying about being forced to forget someone.

Maybe the tears were brought about by Komaeda rattling a bunch possible talents for Hinata like in his first FTE and one of the ones he mentions is Ultimate Neurologist.

So KamuKoma… KamuKoma, KamuKoma, KamuKoma…

So Kamukura really only knows about Komaeda because Matsuda rants about having to take care of him but they don’t exactly meet until later.

That’s not to say they were never involved with each other.

I’m keeping in the shooting scene but the circumstances are WILDLY different. It would have to lack the pastel due to the situation (the real tragedy of this whole thing), but I still wouldn’t mind it happening.

But here, the two encounter each other because Kamukura has been observing many moments of despair from a distance. Just, a distance, and even though he personally detests Junko, despair continues drawing him in so he tries to watch from the shadows where even she, presumably, wouldn’t notice him.

So like, around the same time that Junko dropped off Nanami in the torture dungeon, Komaeda’s infiltrated the place due to good luck (and he brought a gun) and has just been wandering around. His wandering leads to a room where he’s forced to watch Nanami die slowly from behind a screen. Due to his isolation from the class, he had no idea this was happening so it’s a shock, to say the least.

That said, Kamukura ends up drawn in because what Komaeda showcases is despair but it’s a strange kind of despair he’s never seen before, and that startles Komaeda, to say the least.

Classmate’s suddenly dying before you and some rando shows up immediately after?

Yeah, that’s fucking suspicious so Komaeda pulls the gun on him. He hesitates for a moment, confused by Kamukura’s appearance, before interrogating him if he’s involved with any of this. He’s not getting any answers as Kamukura just stares at him.

And then, Kamukura asks him how many people he’s seen die and if that’s why his classmate dying so horribly didn’t phase him as much as it would any normal person. When Kamukura starts making accurate guesses about it, Komaeda gets more and more hysterical as he seems to realize who this person is.

Since he’s not exactly in a good state of mind, he giddily wonders “would this bullet even graze someone like you; do I have the luck for it; what would come from that” and Kamukura stops, giving him a cold glare.

Komaeda flinches and ends up pulling the trigger since his finger is already on it. The gun is jammed, but Kamukura takes it, tells him that he, too, has luck, and shoves him back before shooting him.Komaeda hits his head pretty hard, but he’s still conscious even as he bleeds from it. He’s really dizzy, vision blurring and distorting. Since he isn’t bleeding from what should be a bullet wound, Kamukura tosses the gun aside to investigate and pulls out the bullet-lodged student handbook.

He mutters that it seems Komaeda is truly “beloved by luck” and Komaeda grips his arm as tightly as he could. Due to head trauma, he can’t really speak coherently, and he does stumble over his words severely as he tries.

“U-Ult…im…ate… H… Hope…”

Flushed with excitement, he’s then completely out of it as Kamukura checks his hair. Kamukura’s fingers brush against scars that he recognizes belong to Matsuda, and his inkling of an idea of who this was is confirmed.

Sighing, he scoops Komaeda up to be treat him later. He’s unconcerned; the head trauma will likely block Komaeda’s memories of this event, and he tells himself that this is just because Matsuda would be irritated by him if he leaves one of Matsuda’s patients for dead.

Komaeda is still muttering into his suit and bleeding all over it, but he doesn’t really care about that. He regards the classmate’s corpse with a sigh of “how boring” before carrying Komaeda off.

He doesn’t flinch when Junko happily greets him and tries to talk to him through the various monitors. He ignores her as she acts shocked and hurt, even unaffected when she brings up Nanami as some “poor tragic heroine” that had reportedly been friends with the person Kamukura used to be and that it’s like something out of the novels or anime.

Kamukura brushes it all off, focused on getting Komaeda to safety.

“Aah, right, you didn’t know her so she’s as good as some insignificant stranger, huh?”

“…Y’know, Kamukura Izuru, I’m reaaaaally curious how you’d react to the death of someone who does matter to you. Upupupu… That kind of despair…”

“I really want to taste it for myself…!”

After Kamukura treats him, Komaeda later wakes up alone in a hospital room, hopelessly confused as to what happened to him, but feeling weirdly excited when he thinks about it. But, oh, what horrible luck, he just can’t remember it at all!

[lxckyclovers-blog]

SOURCE

100+ followers, aaa!! i want to say a quick THANK YOU to everybody who stuck with me && SUPPORTED me, i really didn’t expect y’all to continue following me up to now and it really means a lot! i’ll mainly be writing about people who i’ve had some level of interaction with, but that DOES NOT MEAN i do not appreciate you && your blog! and now, without further ado and in no specific order:

@relixum​ / @gctshot​ / your other 6 blogs look at where we are... look at where we started... i know i don’t deserve you gale, but hear me out, that would be enough... honestly, we talk a lot, and as much as i compliment you whenever i get the chance to, that won’t stop me now. i love your rping so much?? like, every character you pick up, cherish, decide to give attention to... i instantly know that you’re going to write them so well!! you’re talented, smart, funny, and i! love! you! we just support each other a lot mutually, and whatever happens, no matter what, i’d like that to keep on happening in the future. but right now, know that i love you and you’re always in my mind at least twenty times a day. ♥

@pixcldream​ aaaAAA meme!! i think you were one of my first interactions when i first ever created my blog, but i can’t remember that. you were always kind of approachable for me && i always wanted to be your friend and talk a bit more to you? and heck, you may not be my parent anymore but you’ll always be a parent to me in my heart. i’ve always admired you and love your nanami and headcanons!! 100/10, justifies gamer girl a lot. i also love your art!! and u better watch out before i steal your hands to art like thy- also, if you feel as if you’re dying, Just Don’t

@mxssias​ aaaaAAALEX!! our hope boys combined together is a trouble we cannot keep at bay, and i am Glad™ i followed you because i love your naegi. he’s pure and only wants to do things for the sake of kibou, and i really love our boys’ interactions! even though... a lot has to do with crack. har har. but yeah, our interactions are a+ crack or serious, and may our hope boys spread hope!

@sunnywitchesperitou​ oooh tea!! i love your sonia, honestly! you put depth into her and you clearly know what you’re going to do to make sonia a much more interesting character! i also LOVE your art, like. dang, pleasing to the eye and just overall, your art blows me away!! keep doing what you’re doing mon ami, && you’re fun to talk w/, whenever we do!!

@snappshot​ / @cantatory​ / @steinways​ inHALES... sarah!! we haven’t threaded on your koi or mai yet but i don’t need to interact with them to know that you’re absolutely amazing and rping them. i love the dis//cords you host, bc it’s such a great idea!! even tho i don’t participate in much conversation, it’s still fun, and i love it whenever we talk mi amigaaaAAAA---ur portrayals are beyond amazing, i love how much care you harbor for your characters, that always leads to mind blowing rping!

@nullverum​ / @shpionaz​ listen up you four thirteen los3r...jk jk, boss you’re chill. i mean, i haven’t seen much of your oc but we talk ooc sometimes whenever i’m actually present in the groupchats, and it’s coolio!! i like your portrayal and bro u may not be my main but i will always kinkshame committee w/ you, and even though your name is from the horror film, er, my apologies---anime, homosuk, you’ll always be my friend! (also. psst i’m always up for discussing homosuk for a blast to the past if you need it)

@ofdesperationis MY FRIEND I LOVE IT WHEN YOUR ENO HARASSES MY KO, honestly!! like tbh, he’s just so salty at her and i love writing his reaction to her. he’s just so done with her && her HANDful of puns. i love you portrayal, too!! it’s trés bien, just...mmMM!! i didn’t know what i signed up for when i followed you back, but hoo boy do i not regret it. ko might not want to be friends with eno, buT IT SURE AS HELL doesn’t mean that we ain’t gonna be spicy friends if they ain’t!!

@mendcx / @kurenaii / i think you have other blogs but AKU GOD DAMN, i love your portrayals SO MUCH, and you know this...i know you doooo. i love our interactions && i love it when your kamu steps on my ko, fulfilling his gross and masochistic wishes. your kamu has to put up with so much shit and honestly, i kind of feel bad for him agikha but yo, hit me up in dms whenever bc bro i love talkin’ to you and i’m always up to more of that ship shit if you gotta dump out some stuff and CAN’T HOLD IT IN...oh if only you know how excited i was when you first hit me up, yo, harhar. love ya my buddy, my friend, my responsible friend

@lyingforadream / @hazuukashi / @ofstarsandfists ALRIGHT, DUSTING. j’aime tu rping, parce que est trés bien et tu ne peut pas dire moi autrement. okay, i translated some of that, bUT SOME OF IT IS FROM MY KNOWLEDGE SO YOU! CAN’T! JUDGE! ME! i’m still learning french mon ami, but still! i like your rping and hit me up in dms w/e i’m on and you wanna say something to me, bro. don’t hold back! you’re really funny and GOd, i love ur jokes but man YOU GOTTA STOP KILLING ME. but yea ily bro just try not to kill me anymore tyty you’re one of the best, don’t stop now

@shinguvji iggy!! yoo honestly, i’ve always looked up to you and whenever you notice me, i’m like 000: && you’re like a role model for me! i love interacting with you, it’s fun to see what happens when you put our two characters together. i’ll never forget the story times, especially the fact that guuji is an anthropologist who has Quite the Knowledge on, well, the strangest of stories. you’re really entertaining and i love seeing you on your dash, if i see anything posted by you, there’s like a 99% chance i’ll read it, because everything you create is intriguing!!

@ongakuvoices / @anemoia-avenoir / @ketsuekicrown AAAAAND RIO! gosh i absolutely LOVE the justice you give the characters, and i super duper wish you got more attention on nagisa because your portrayal is absolutely worth it, even if we haven’t interacted much on there. i love talking with you whenever i appear in the chatroom, and whenever we plot our twinbuki au!! can’t wait to set things straight and figure out family stuff, so we could start it already woohoo---your character portrayals are en pointe and i love interacting with you on any blog, and mioda always gives me that rush of adrenaline interacting with her like whoa!! what is she gonna do next? you’re doing 100% amazing so keep it up, my friend!!

@hexapodboy​ GOSH BON, i’ll be honest with ya!! i’ve always looked up to you and you always inspire me!! your portrayals are incredibly mind-blowing and i love seeing you on my dash!! your gonta is so pure and literally doesn’t deserve any of my ko’s antics, because he’s too innocent for it all. i love our crack threads and we need to get more serious threads going, seriously, but nonetheless our interactions are still amusing and, well, interesting! i wish we talked more ooc, you seem like a rly nice person && i love your kara icons ikhgkhgr really gives off the Cool™ demeanor, yo. but!! i can assure you that not 100% of our interactions will involve bombs, gonta deserves better than THAT

@mcfiant / @swcrdleap / your other 9 blogs--- IT’s been like, ten centuries bro, my dude, my partner in *komaeda and amami voice** death o’clock---and i love our interactions! and i love your portrayal of EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. YOU. PLAY. regardless if i know that character or not, because you do such a good job that i just get the sense that it’s how the character legitimately is. we don’t talk much but when we did, it was amazing and i couldn’t stop laughing. i mean. it’s not every day you see amami kicking down doors over hiring assassins. i’ll always follow you mon ami because i love your portrayals and headcanons aND a lot more. one of my faves && i’ll read anything you have to offer bc your work is always interesting, honestly. even if your character is an asshole, komaeda can take it!!! he’s an asshole to himself, after all. but yea neal ily mi amigo and i promise i’ll tell you if anything’s wrong with your links akhgahg

AND I REFUSE TO FORGET THOSE WHO STUCK AROUND! the people in this section are people i’ve had really limited interactions with, but i’m very glad decided to stick around my blog!! i look up to you, and i wish i got to know y’all better so i could give you a spot up there with my positive comments!!

@despuddle / @kxaito / @fxshionable-mxsks​ / @ayatsurii / @kibarashiartist / @mxgicxlrxd / @invegold​ / @hairhorns​ / @twintaiiled / @goodluckgoodhope / @kyoukokiwigiri​ / @hxpelessnurse / @beheadingtoujou / @bubblegumrose / @fashicnkiller​ / @positivepianist​ / @robotichxpe​ / @bestiascuro​ / @docilexdisguises​ / @pseudxcode​ / @cxruscxte​ / @artqiues​ / @sollertiis​ / @boysofbrokensouls​ / @shufukuu​ / @frosted-mermaid​ 

&& HAVE AN AMAZING WEEKEND!!!