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storiesoflilies · 9 months ago

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Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut.

A/N: I actually quite enjoyed writing this chapter, so much to the point that I’m prioritizing this over my uni work. Oopsie!! Oh well, enjoy everyone! You may need some tissues :) Ko-Fi.

Next part — interlude (i)

-•-

Chapter 3

Time was no longer relevant to Y/N anymore.

Why bother counting down the days? She’d been stuck in this cell – this dreary, hopeless, and unbelievably hot cell – for what seemed like an eternity. Though it couldn’t have been that long, for Nanami’s blood still coated her skin like a bridal veil, providing a false sense of security as if he still watched over her even in death. Y/N knew his protection would run dry when she walked down the end of the aisle that was her life’s story – where there could be no happy ending waiting for her. Still, she coveted his blood, the lingering remnants of her golden guardian, as if memories of him were the last pages of holy text ablaze in this condemned world.

In the depths of Hell, Y/N wasted away like a rotting corpse not quite dead yet.

She knew she was in Hell because there could be nowhere else so oppressive: searing heat that dared her to cause even a slight offense, just so it had an excuse to burn her deeply and settle into the very marrow of her bones like a parasite. Still, she fought against it, curled like a pathetic fetus in a pitch-black womb, locked in a silent battle of sheer will. The same Curse who stole her golden guardian had somehow stopped the fatal wound on her stomach from ending her life, yet it had neglected to heal her other injuries – as if it wanted her to die a slow death.

“You don’t know, do you?” it had whispered in the deep dark depths, fascination falling from it like a waterfall. Y/N hadn’t answered, but still, the Curse continued on like a child that just wanted to be heard by someone, anyone. “Just how special you are.”

It called itself Mahito, decidedly masculine and manipulative, and he spoke with a whimsical tone unbefitting of the atrocities and sins he had surely committed; his words coated in sickly sweet sugar in attempt to lull her into a false sense of security. Nonetheless, he had saved her for reasons Y/N could never begin to guess; the scar on her midriff was testament to that fact. The wound had been sealed well enough; the scar was still fleshy and smooth to the touch, but she dared not look at it – it was all she had left of him and Gojo. Her body forever stained by her first, and perhaps only, encounter with him. She thought of him often, a focal point of imaginary light in the darkness, and dreamt of him whenever she slept; walking together among the cosmos of another universe, withstanding the test of time and fire. It was her only remaining comfort because Y/N couldn’t tell if her green eyed Curse was dead. She didn’t know how the soulmate bond worked really, or if it was strong enough to feel his essence if he wasn’t nearby, but she still clung to a fools hope that he wasn’t dead; that he had somehow grappled lightning and storms with his bare hands and won.

If he was alive, he would come for her; that much Y/N knew was true. She had felt his desperation when she and Nanami fought against Mahito, as if Gojo were an obstacle he couldn’t overcome quickly enough to get to her in time. And so, she could only lie there and wait for someone who may never arrive – a prisoner awaiting her sentence that bled black blood and slaughtered Angels.

The rough stone floor scraped her cheek as Y/N shifted into a tighter ball, her wing bones twisted unnaturally underneath her. Her feathers had suddenly fallen some time ago, like dead leaves from a shriveled bush, and she knew in her heart that they would never grow back again. The bones hung like useless appendages, unable to move no matter how much she willed them to, and started to reek of rotten flesh. It was only a matter of time before infection and fever set in, and Y/N wished she had the strength to reach over and pull them from their sockets, but her aching body had no such strength anymore; if she dared to move too much, she would surely die. She couldn’t die, not yet; she was still holding on to him, and to Nanami’s ghost telling her that she could persevere.

She heard a familiar clink and creaking of metal; the silver Curse had come to visit again.

Mahito sat in front of her; she could feel his breath wafting onto her face, a sliver of his teeth visible through the darkness, and mismatched grey and blue eyes glowing brightly. These visits from him were routine, like they were old childhood friends come to play a tea party with each other every day.

“Well, don’t you look positively wretched?” He remarked, as if he was praising her instead of insulting her. Y/N maintained her vow of silence; she would not speak a single word to her guardians bane.

Mahito didn’t seem offended by her silence at all, as he chirped away about bodies and souls and nonsense. Y/N nearly groaned at the absurdity of it all – here she was at deaths door, listening to a child preaching philosophy it mistook for age-old wisdom.

“…but they don’t know I have you here, and they might never. Is it so selfish of me wanting to keep you with me, just for a little while?”

She focused her gaze on him, and he gasped with delight, “Oh, so you are still in there! I was beginning to doubt you were listening to me at all.”

Her eyes flashed, begging him to continue, to explain what he meant.

“I suppose I haven’t really told you anything since I brought you here. You see… I wasn’t supposed to be there that day. I’m just a newborn to all of them; they don’t respect me at all because I still need to grow my strength. But they don’t see just how special I already am.”

Mahito started to rock back and forth; Y/N could hear him.

“And so I went up to Earth to help me grow stronger, to speed up the process of my evolution. I know I couldn’t possibly defeat your most special Angel, the one with the white hair… Satoru Gojo. By the way, you know he really actually loved you? His soul told me so; I could see it, but he just didn’t know how to love a soul like yours. I just thought you should know that.”

… what? Surely not.

“Anyways… I had really hoped that he wasn’t alone so that I could maybe grow from the fight. And oh my, your Nanami was a strong one. It was a glorious fight, he helped me so much more than you can imagine. But finding you? That was almost too perfect. I’ve never found out what effects my cursed energy has on a soul that has found its mate, but I’m so very interested in seeing what happens.”

Mahito sighed, a long deep sigh, like someone who was already tired of living. “I really hope they don’t find you. I don’t think anyone knows it was me who stole you away, and I want to keep you here with me. You’ll surely help me grow even more.”

Stole?

Y/N’s energy rapidly drew back like the sea from the shore in preparation for a tsunami; such was the state of her, random bouts of wakefulness with the constant threat of falling back into an unconsciousness state. She felt herself slipping back into the abyss, Mahito’s words miles away from her now, breaking away like dried mud.

-•-

The fever manifested soon after, but it was the ensuing delirium that was going to be the end of her. Her once pristine wings were burdened by disease, sickly pus droplets clinging to them; infecting and instigating a malevolent transformation within her mind.

Prancing around gardens, you silly wicked thing.

Y/N’s cell was no longer black, but a bright red hue, akin to the color she saw when she closed her eyelids and looked directly at the sun. She saw the faces of everyone she had ever known and lost, and each time she glanced over her shoulder, Nanami lingered behind her; silent and stoic, never saying a word as he stared at her with a single eye – looking just as he did the day he died. Overwhelmed with emotion, Y/N couldn’t restrain her tears from falling. If this was to be her ascension into Paradise, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to go traverse this path of misery and delusions.

Don’t you know that’s how you get scratched into pieces?

She saw Gojo suspended high above them, a distant expression clouding his blue eyes. Y/N didn’t think he was upset; instead, he seemed as if he was finally understanding the very meaning of their existence in the world. It was as if he was being cradled in the invisible hands of God, completely ecstatic in his trance. His face was covered in blood, hair and armor unkept and dirtied, and a fatal wound to the neck oozed fresh blood. It was a stark contrast to the well put together and suave Satoru she had known before. It unnerved Y/N as she decided she didn’t like this transformation, and looked away.

But then maybe you deserve to be cut by all these thorns?

The visions shifted to Y/N in her bedroom, reclined on her bed, bathed in that familiar red hue streaming in through the windows. Everything was as she remembered leaving it; ripe figs on her nightstand, perfect bluebell flowers from Gojo in a crystal vase filled with clear water beside it. Oh how she would give anything to be there now, instead of whatever illusion she was stuck in now; a tantalizing, teasing vision of comfort and familiarity. Y/N doubted she would ever get it back again, and tried her hardest to savor it.

Wicked things deserve to be punished you know?

Nanami laid beside her, his hand covering the empty eye socket, and Y/N looked at him, willing him to say anything, just anything. Was the presence of his soul a symbol of something vital within her mind, silently communicating to her through the fever? Perhaps it was his ghost haunting her, unable to move on, expressing his anger at how he gave his life so violently for hers; maybe he was the real fever.

And you’re the worst of them all, the very worst I’ve ever seen…

Nanami turned to look at her, and her heart jumped. He looked pained, as if his words yearned to escape, but were bound by a vow of silence. She reached out to him, gently brushing a stray lock of golden hair from his forehead, and breathed in his calming scent. No, he would never punish her like this or subject her to delusions and pain; he was too kind and good, the very best of the Angels.

A flicker of sanity.

The red hue pulled back ever so slightly, and Y/N knew she was still in her cell. But there was someone coming; she heard distant footsteps approaching – perhaps Mahito? Would he put her out of her misery? No, the footsteps were too soft, familiar. She’d heard them before, knew to whom they belonged to without having to see anything at all.

You cut me in two, and now you think you’re free?

She was enveloped in red once again, Nanami’s presence returned, but he gripped her hand with a sense of urgency and fear. Y/N couldn’t bear to see him in such a state, and she promptly squeezed his hand back in a silent pledge of unified strength. Amidst the crimson haze and orchestrated delusions, it all became clear to her now – the visions he’d been showing her. He’d been patiently waiting for her all this time so they could move on together; the stunning saga of their lives now entwined for a final chapter.

“We can both go now…” she mumbled, neither here nor there.

You will never be free, not from me.

And suddenly, they both materialized in the meadows of the training grounds of Heaven, sullied by a red sky, hands tightly clasped together. Geto stood before them, a vision of benevolence and mercy, his katanas gleaming in the light of Heaven’s morning. Y/N wanted to drop to the floor and weep with joy as her inner turmoil melted away – her brother’s presence providing a welcome solace she didn’t know she needed so desperately. She would be at peace, as Geto would lead them both to Paradise, to bask in God’s light, and heal them from all they had endured.

“Oh, dear sister, where are you now?” he asked, featherlight fingers tenderly stroking her jaw, long black hair flowing like a dark river over his shoulders.

Y/N was confused by his words. Where? Why she was everywhere all at once, and Nanami was here too. Couldn’t he see her golden guardian?

“Hmm… this won’t do at all. Come with me; you’ll be alright now, that’s it,” Geto declared in that same soft tone she knew so well. The overwhelming surged relief through her, both astounding and crippling, as if the weight of the world had been lifted in that moment.

Her axis shifted as Geto carried her battered body in his arms, traversing through the meadow; through the deep dark prison.

It’s after dark, you know? But this garden still grows.

Through the cool green grass, amidst dim corridors and oppressive shadows, Y/N watched her world go by her from the familiar embrace of Geto’s arms. His dark robes swished purposefully with each step, as Nanami walked alongside him – a steadfast presence as always. She absorbed every moment, feeling the inevitable conclusion of her life approaching, and reveled in the crescendo of it all. She hadn’t sinned; God was pleased with her, and being granted a slice of Heaven was the greatest honor of her life.

Soothing warm water enveloped her, yet Y/N shivered, as she found herself in the bathing pool in Gojo’s tower; her body bare and naked as God intended. She felt divine, holy, the epitome of blessings. Geto’s hands washed her gently, almost hesitating, as if he feared her skin would melt from her bones. Y/N felt like it was, and by God, all she wanted to do was merge seamlessly with the water. Nanami stood silently behind Geto, regal and proud, observing her being cleaned.

“We’re going soon, you’ll see…” Y/N said to Nanami, trying to reassure him as her eyes rolled back into her head.

Geto rubbed her thighs, scrubbing away the world’s impurities from her, and said softly, “No, you’re not.”

“But, aren’t you here to guide us both?”

“No sister, I’m here to make you better.”

Y/N grew silent, awareness creeping back into her bones like an old friend. Nanami’s form became translucent, a haunting ghost barely visible. They were not in the bathing pool; instead, she was in a large bronze bathtub Geto washing her, and Nanami’s ghost still lingering. Her guardian looked down at her with regret as realization dawned on his fair features, yet Y/N still didn’t understand a thing.

“Geto… I’m supposed to be going with Nanami. Look, he’s waiting for me; he’s standing behind you.”

Geto stopped his ministrations, his head tilting curiously to the side as if he was earnestly trying to sense what she could see. His warm brown eyes swept over her body, pity casting a somber shadow over him, and rested on her wings, a disapproving tut escaping his lips.

“Forgive me sister, but you need to let them go. They’re killing you now.”

Nanami looked away sharply, as if he couldn’t bear to look at them anymore, and Y/N frowned.

And then, Geto reached over and gripped both her wings at the base of their sockets in her shoulder blades. Before she could utter another word, he pulled sharply, a sickening slicking and popping noise resonating as her wings brutally detached from her body. Y/N gasped in shock and pain, convulsing violently in the bath, murky water sloshing over the sides. Geto hushed her gently, holding her arms as firmly as he could in an attempt to calm her.

The hours are passing, don’t you feel lonely?

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” Geto whispered, his tender touch returning to the task of washing her.

Y/N whimpered, her gaze shifting between him and Nanami, finally comprehending the meaning behind her delusions as his blood was washed from her skin. The veil was lifting, but it wasn’t to be the end for her, and they both knew it. Geto smiled kindly at her, warmth radiating from his eyes.

“It’s ok,” she said to Nanami. “You’re right, I can take it from here… I know I can do this now.”

Geto hummed, or perhaps it was Nanami, and cupped his hands together, pouring water over her head. “And what is it you can do?”

Y/N didn’t answer, her head rolling backwards weakly. Geto quickly held the back of her head, preventing it from dipping back into the water. Nanami took steps backwards from them, hesitating, looking up at the sky with a profound sense of longing. Her golden guardian wasn’t meant for her anymore; he was destined to soar through the skies and stars high up above. Nanami Kento was born from light, and to light he would return – not condemned to remain in this blazing prison of sinners.

“You’re not meant to be here. Go on,” Y/N urged, trying to be encouraging, as gentle as Geto’s hands on her bare chest; the last traces of Nanami’s blood washed away from her.

Of course you’re lonely, you always have been. You think I didn’t know?

Her guardian turned to face her one more time, a smile curving his lips – the same one just before his body turned into a rainfall of blood. This time, she smiled back at him, an understanding exchanged in the face of their final farewell.

“Be at peace,” Geto murmured, but whether he was addressing Nanami or her, Y/N didn’t know.

And then, Nanami stretched his arms over his head in pure bliss, his body engulfed in an ethereal light, ascending towards the red hued sky, disappearing in a blaze of hope and gold. It was cathartic and pure; she couldn’t help but start to weep with joy. Geto stroked her hair, whispering gently in an attempt to soothe her, as he started to lift her from the water; wrapping her in soft satin robes, and carrying her once more.

Y/N slipped back into the darkness.

-•-

She awoke to the feel of fresh linen sheets covering her body, and contentedly moved her legs, however a dull pain in her back immediately stopped her movements. Y/N winced, her memory gradually returning as she became more awake. Her wings were gone; she knew it to be true, yet she still felt their phantom presence. She tentatively reached behind her, almost hopefully, as if they might miraculously still be there – but all she felt were rough bumps of stitches woven into her skin. The overwhelming heat she felt when she first descended into Hell was now gone, and Y/N found that she was pleasantly warm. The room she was in was dimly lit by torches of blue flames, with lavish dark purple curtains drawn partly closed, revealing a dark and lifeless sky. The furniture, crafted from bronze and dark wood, was rich and deep, meticulously arranged in beautiful display.

The door behind her creaked open, and she turned around.

Geto.

Her heart leaped with adoration as he graced her with that familiar smile she cherished so much. Her brother was here, in the deep, dark depths, and it felt as if nothing had changed between them, and he stood before her just as he once had.

“How are you feeling, dear sister?” he asked, sitting down in front of her against the edge of the bed, hands clasped together politely.

Y/N whispered, “Like I’ve been dragged through Hell.”

Geto laughed, and she couldn’t help but smile along with him. He seemed guiniely happy, joyous even; what had even changed to begin with?

“You have been, that much is true,” he agreed, shaking his head and chuckling lowly.

“Thank you… for helping me.”

“Of course, although I do apologize for your scars, because those I cannot fix.”

He rose from the bed, pulling aside the curtains, and silently gazed out the window, “You’ve been asleep for seven days and nights, you know? Did you dream at all?”

Y/N attempted to recall anything at all, but there was nothing – only darkness and that red color behind her eyelids. “No… no I didn’t. Suguru, tell me what happened.”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted, and in that moment, as she gazed at Geto’s side profile, the stark transformation in her brother became glaringly apparent. There was a harsh, foreign look in his brown eyes, as cruel and unforgiving as steel, and his jaw clenched with ominous resolve.

“I’m sure you know that Curse who took you, Mahito,” he began, tearing his eyes away from the window to fixate on her with that angry look. “That stupid fucking thing has no idea what he’s been playing at.”

Y/N was taken aback as the curse word fell from Geto’s lips as naturally as breathing, but she said nothing as he continued, “Of course, it wasn’t until he started babbling about how he had seen Gojo with two other Angels the day of the attack; one of them a fair haired one and the other a female. It was obviously Nanami when he described the way he fought, and then I knew that it must have been you there too. I deduced he must have been the one to take you, hiding you almost perfectly if he hadn’t decided to talk too much.”

Geto sighed heavily, a regretful look passing over him.

“You weren’t supposed to be there, it wasn’t apart of the plan. I knew that we might have crossed paths once again as enemies on the battlefield, but I honestly hoped that we never would see each other again…”

He looked at her once more with suspicion in his eyes. “But that does beg the question, Y/N,what exactly were you doing there?”

“Nanami said he had said he had noticed traces of a strange Curse, and he wanted me to go with him and track it. Gojo found out and came along with us.”

“And why exactly? Satoru wouldn’t waste his time on something so menial, it’s beneath him.”

“He… he proposed to me the day after you fell. I’ve never descended to Earth without him since.”

Geto looked at her sharply, quizzically. Y/N looked down, almost in shame, as if she were to be punished for telling him the truth.

“Were you married then?”

“No, the wedding was still being planned.”

“Good, so then you aren’t a widow. That makes this a bit easier.”

A widow?

Satoru Gojo is dead?

Geto stared at her, as if trying to decipher exactly what was going through her head; like he was trying to see if she was going to break down and shatter with grief and sorrow. Of course, Y/N was shocked – the greatest seraph that ever was and would be was dead. Someone she had known her whole life, gone and faded to ash. In that moment, she saw all the lives Geto had taken; the Sky Sentries and Gojo’s followers. Here was a cold blooded Curse that stood before her, calculating and aware.

“You’re not struggling as much as I thought you would,” Geto remarked, his head tilted curiously at her. “You mustn’t have loved him.”

“I-, I did,” Y/N started, sitting up as she struggled to find the right words to say. “But not in the way I wanted to love my future husband.”

“Of course not, and he must have known that. What a selfish prick, he knew you couldn’t say no to him. He must have proposed in front of the masses, oh what a great declaration of his love and strength to protect you. Some job he did.”

Geto was seething, snapping like a dog protecting a bone, crazed and cold-hearted at the memory of his once closest friend. It was silent for a long time before he came and sat at the edge of the bed, grasping her hand in his.

“He picked you because of me, and for that, I am even more sorry,” he said, head bowed low, anger gone in a flash as his long hair brushed against her hand.

“I did care about him, Suguru. I think, given time, I would have eventually learned to love him. He… he was changing, after you left. With me, Gojo was different, but maybe he was like that with you anyways, so I’m not sure.”

“Well then, I am sorry you lost him too as well as Nanami. It must have been the blackest of days for you.”

They were silent again, and Y/N breathed heavily as the weight of their conversation and the ache in her back bore down on her like a whip.

“May I?” Geto politely inquired, his fingers at the top button of her nightdress. Y/N nodded, and he deftly unbuttoned the dress, parting it to look at her wounds.

He produced an amber tub from his robes, opening it quickly and smeared a thick, herb-scented ointment over her stitches. She shivered at its coolness.

“Does it hurt?” Geto asked worriedly, his hands lifting from her skin.

“No, I’m okay,” she whispered, eyes closing, allowing her brother to soothe her aches and pains.

But there were still truths Y/N had to uncover shrouded in the shadows. She was owed knowledge, and Geto had to give her the courtesy of an honest answer. She hoped it would be honest, at least; he was a Curse now, and honesty was no longer in his nature.

“Why did you choose to fall?”

A dark look passed over Geto’s face, a haunted memory of oppressive demons surfacing, and she almost regretted asking in the first place.

“Because I want things in the world to change.”

Just like Gojo said not so long ago, only he had wanted to change himself and not the ways of the world.

“You see, there reached a certain point for me, and it was when Haibara died. I thought, what is the point of continuing to fight a war that has already been fought for a thousand years? More of us continue to die, and it will never ever end if it continues as it does now. I asked myself, what can I do myself to change things?”

He rubbed the last of the ointment into her back, and buttoned her dress up again.

“The way things stand, there are two outcomes – either the Angels win or Curses. But if Angels won, vanquishing Sukuna and all the Curses that dwell now, it wouldn’t really matter. The Heavenly Principles are still in place, and free will is still a blessing upon us all, therefore sin is inevitable. More curses would be born again, Angels will still fall, cast out from a home that they have fought for and defended. And why should it be so? Because Heaven deems them sinners, regardless of their good deeds?”

He sighed heavily, continuing, “And if Curses win and Heaven is burnt to ash, there would be never be another Angel born into the world again. Sure, there may be war and discontent within the Hells, that is a given, but it would never be as eternal or as wasteful as the war we fight now.”

“And so you’ve decided to decimate Heaven and every soul that resides there.”

“Yes.”

It was the way he said that, so simply, like it was as natural as a rain falling to the ground. Suguru Geto had a plan, he had the spark to his fire, and all he had to do was get to the place he needed to reach. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat; as she put together the pieces of everything he had told her. How Geto must have suffered in silence, his closest friend and sister never noticing a thing as he questioned everything he believed in. And still, he had chosen to embrace the fire and condemn them both to his ideals.

“If we had met earlier, I would have tried to convince you to turn too, to fight alongside me and reshape the world according to our vision. I attempted to persuade Gojo the last time we spoke together, but he refused to listen, as he chooses to ignore that his strength could achieve all our goals if he so wished.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say, almost reluctant to acknowledge his confession. How could she be certain he wouldn’t have tried to kill her? However, there was something else more pressing on her mind than Geto’s ambitions.

“Suguru… why did you say Mahito took me away?”

Geto froze momentarily, and fear flashed across his face as swiftly as a lightning strike. Y/N’s heart raced even faster, the fear bubbling up within her; the scar on her stomach suddenly burning wildly.

“Like I said,” Geto began uneasily, clearing his throat. “Mahito has no idea what he’s been playing at. He can see souls within the body like a living, breathing thing inside us all. He knew the consequences if he was found out, and yet he did it anyway.”

“Suguru, what did he do? What does it have to do with me or you?”

“I hope you do not think less of me when I tell you this… I’m the King of the Third Layer of Hell, and Mahito is one of my strongest, albeit one of the youngest, denizens to reside in my court. He has stolen and knowingly hidden you, despite the bounty for your location within the Hells, and by doing so, he has put my Layer at risk for war.”

Her mind reeled at this information; at the power her brother now held in the palm of his hands.

A bounty on me?

“Who’s after me Suguru?”

“I think you know, sweet sister.”

Her green eyed Curse, the champion of storms; he had lived after all.

“His name is Toji Fushiguro, and he is the King of the Second Layer of Hell.”

Geto looked painfully guilty, his head turned from her shamefully.

“He has been looking for you ever since he killed Satoru, and… I have already dispatched a messenger to say that you are resting and healing in my home.”

He’s coming for me.

“Yes,” Geto replied, and Y/N realized she had said it aloud.

“Am I doomed?”

“I don’t know.”

Another stop in time, as she considered another revelation; something that may have already meant she was condemned to her soul burning in Hell. It would explain why the searing heat she fought so hard against didn’t bother her anymore, why her blood ran warm and true, and why she could no longer smell the sulphur in the air anymore.

“If it’s not what you want, then I can help you to escape him.”

“How?”

“I can help you ascend back to Earth, but only there. After that, you would be on your own to find your way back to your people, but I cannot stop him from finding you before you get there. I will also assume that you have chosen never to side with me, and if I came across you again, then we may very well kill the other.”

None of that might matter if she was already condemned; there would be no way back to Heaven.

“Suguru, please get me a knife.”

He frowned, “Y/N, don’t cause yourself more harm. I won’t let you die on my watch, and neither will he.”

“Suguru please, I need to see something.”

Geto relented, handing her a clean dagger hidden beneath his obsidian robes. She took it from him, and pricked her thumb with the blade and squeezed hard. A trickle of red blood escaped from the pierced flesh, and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief as the nausea dissipated from her stomach.

Until red turned black as ink; flowing down her hands like a river of sin and despair.

-•-

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theelizamanelli · 2 months ago

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Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance, blood and violence, implied/referenced suicide and child death link to all chapters link to ao3

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Chapter Four

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The gray carpet extended through the open concept living room, giving way to a wall of windows overlooking Tokyo. Reina ran her hand along the marble of the kitchen, admiring the stainless steel appliances. She hadn’t realized that Jujutsu High freely provided their employees with such lucrative benefits.

The flat screen television sat untouched in the corner, the plush couch taunting her to lay down. Her day consisted of unpacking her office and chastising Satoru Gojo, the latter she had determined would soon become a regular occurrence.

Exhaustion had seeped into her bones and threatened to burst from her. Reina was in desperate need of a shower and a long sleep. She would freely admit that though he continued to irritate her, Gojo had relieved a great deal of anxiety. She no longer worried about how she would be able to afford rent or groceries.

The keys had sat neatly on her office desk when she had returned from her earlier outburst. A note, in what she had assumed was Gojo’s handwriting, with the address and a “Welcome home! (* ^ ω ^)” - met with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

Carrying the one remaining box through the apartment, Reina had noticed two rooms across the hall from one another. One was noticeably decorated with a masculine aesthetic in mind. The secondary area appeared more neutral therefore she placed her stuff on its desk.

Unpacking her things neatly, it took her little time to finish the job. Setting out her clothes post shower, she slowly made her way to the attached bathroom.

The hot water cascaded down her back and massaged out knots she hadn’t realized were there. Relishing in the warmth, she spent extra care on the rest of her body. She had neglected parts of her routine over the last few weeks from stress, not realizing to what extent until it took her a few passes with her razor to get the skin smooth.

Washing out the conditioner from her hair before using a rose scented body wash, she finally stepped out of the shower. Wrapping herself in a towel she proceeded to open the door into the hallway. Embarking on a short journey to the kitchen for a drink.

The idea of dancing naked in the living room in front of the windows sprinted through Reina’s mind before she shook it off. It would be her luck that someone in a building diagonal would have the perfect view into the apartment, effectively ruining all privileges the lonely lodging gave her.

The sound of the refrigerator opening forced Reina to stop in the shadow of the hallway, creeping softly to peer around the corner. She didn’t have her kaiken but the vase sitting on the end table nearest to her would have to do. Slowly slipping it off the table, she held it up in preparation and sprung forward with a cry.

A deep laugh rumbled from the dark kitchen, the light from the fridge illuminated white hair and reflected off familiar glasses.

“What an unexpected greeting, Iyashi. Should I return the favor? I did get quite dirty today.” He chuckled softly as he placed the juice carton back into the fridge.

“What are you doing here?” Reina asked sternly, still holding the vase in the air prepared to strike.

“This is my apartment.” He said, turning slowly towards her. Gojo’s eyes dropped quickly to the edge of the towel where it barely covered her thighs.

Reina, too angry to pay attention, barked “No, it’s my apartment. It was part of the agreement.”

“I am away on business a lot, Iyashi. I need someone to take care of the place while I’m not here. Seemed the perfect fit. You need a place to live. I need a roommate.” He picked up his belongings from the counter and began to walk towards Reina.

She quickly lifted the vase higher, implying she intended to hit him if he got any closer.

“You can put the vase down, you’re safe.” He said before attempting to go around her.

“Am I?” She muttered to herself, placing the vase back down on the end table in defeat.

Gojo pushed the door to his room open, placing his belongings on the desk before walking to his closet.

Without thought, Reina barged in after him shouting, “Hey, I’m not done talking to you, pretty boy!”

“I’m listening,” mused Gojo as he slid his jacket off and placed it in the bin.

Reina faltered momentarily before continuing, “I told you I’m not your maid. I’m not your slave.”

“I never asked you to be, though the thought of you in that outfit will surely keep me up at night.” He chuckled and pulled his shirt off, leaving his abs on display.

Her slight intake of breath kept her from replying immediately, she couldn’t deny that his back was mesmerizing - distracting at the very least.

“Well, good, I won’t be mistreated by a narcissist who thinks everyone will bend to his will.” She nodded her head with conviction.

“I wouldn’t expect any less.” Gojo straightened up and turned towards her, hands on his belt as he proceeded to loosen it. “Now, Iyashi, could you please put on something a little less distracting before I get carried away?”

A blush spread from the back of her neck, kissing her cheeks. She had forgotten that she was still in the towel, standing in his bedroom as he was undressing.

Reina squeaked a curt goodbye and fled the room.

She had expected to be angrier with him that he hadn’t been honest about her living arrangements but couldn't find it in herself. She was unsure if it was due to how exhausted she was or if she had grown to expect it from Gojo - even though she’d only known him for a few days.

The idea of living with someone had ignited a portion of Reina’s heart that she had forgotten existed - the desire for companionship. She grimaced at the thought of enjoying cohabitating with Gojo, of all people.

Reina dried her hair and finished her night time routine, falling back onto her bed with a soft plop. She could hear the light footsteps of Gojo from the kitchen back to the bedroom, it paused outside of her door.

“Goodnight, Iyashi! Sweet dreams!” He shouted through the door.

Reina found herself smiling before whispering “Goodnight, Gojo.”

——————————————————————————————————

Managing Gojo’s life proved rather difficult in the weeks to come. Pleadings from all over the country flooded her desk in search of his help. Reina had to weigh them in order of severity and urgency before delivering them.

He was consistently complimentary of how easily she had acclimated to the job. Though she continued to claim it was rather straightforward, he could have hired anyone.

The typically lighthearted man continued his studies with his students, in his free time exorcizing the curses within the area. Playing the part of confident and fun loving Gojo-sensei, never taking his hands from his pockets as he finishes off deadly curses within minutes of arrival.

There was a side of Gojo that bubbled to the surface in the moments where she delivered new cases, a quiet and contemplative one. He reviewed the information, treating each with a seriousness she had not yet grown accustomed to.

It had become abundantly apparent that the world relied on Gojo in a way that one could only assume was devastatingly heavy.

Yet he carried himself as if he expected no less.

In a few rare moments, Reina found herself feeling both sorry for and proud of Satoru Gojo.

——————————————————————————————————

Reina ripped open the envelope sitting on her desk to reveal its contents, the compelling recount of a curse that had plagued a family on the outskirts of Tokyo. A father, mother, five year old daughter, and sixteen-month old son. The letter revealed that the little girl had perished by the hands of the curse the day prior, they were begging for their lives.

She was unfortunately overly familiar with death. It was a natural consequence of this line of work and she read letters daily of families that were haunted by monsters.

This would not be the first or last family to perish at the hands of a curse.

Gojo was out of town on another case rendering him unavailable, there was a part of Reina that felt the familiar twinge of disappointment realizing she would have to draft a condolences letter.

She grabbed her bag from the desk, the images of a little girl splattered in blood flashed across her vision. She gripped the edge of the chair for balance, gritting her teeth.

Reaching for the two kaikens attached to her thighs - ensuring their location had not changed - Reina headed out the doors and in the opposite direction of the apartment, towards the train station.

Verifying the address upon arrival, she reached for the door and knocked lightly. A young woman answered, keeping the space between the frame and the wood small.

With barely an eye visible through the opening the woman whispered, “How can I help you?”

“My name is Reina Iyashi, I’m here to help you with your problem.” she answered softly with a small smile.

The woman’s eyes widened as she closed the door, the sounds of locks unclasping slipping through the cracks. She pulled the door open wide and Reina noted her pregnant belly.

“Oh, God. Thank you!” The woman cried and wrapped both arms around her. Reina had never been good at accepting public displays of affection. Her body stiffened in her arms and she lightly patted the woman’s side with her free arm.

“Where does it stay?” She asked quietly, her eyes darting around for any signs of the curse.

The young woman pointed to the top of the hill, the building sitting in its wake appeared overrun and unkempt. “When we moved here they said a woman drowned her two kids in that building and then slit her wrists in the tub. We were warned that a lot of strange things happened in the neighborhood but we thought…” She sniffled. “Well, we thought it was just talk…we never…”

Reina placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, keeping an appropriate distance between them in hopes she wouldn’t hug her again, “You didn’t know. Take solace in the fact that she is safe and not in pain. You did everything you could.”

Without waiting for a response, Reina turned and headed up the hill.

——————————————————————————————————

chapter five

#fanfic #fanfiction #fic writing #wattpad #ao3 tags #gojo jjk #gojo jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jujustu kaisen #gojo smut #jjk satoru #jjk x reader #jjk

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naussensei · 7 months ago

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Prejudice

“Sensei…” Said Gojo all of a sudden.

“Hm?” Yaga did not look away from his report, but from the corner of his eye he could see him drawing circles with his fingers on the table.

“Why did you bring that normie here?”

It took Yaga a moment to realize who he was talking about.

“Oh, you mean Geto?” Yaga’s hand stopped scribbling to put the pen down and look at him. “He’s not a ‘normie’, he’s a sorcerer, just like you and Shoko.”

“He’s nothing like us!”

“What about him?” Yaga raised an eyebrow in intrigue seeing Satoru so worked up. He’d been waiting to see how the two would get along, confident they’d be a great match. But perhaps he had been wrong. “Do you not like Geto?”

Satoru’s forehead banged softly on the table, pulling his own hair with a muffled, “I don’t know,” in agony.

It was the first time he’d seen him so troubled. Yaga couldn’t help a chuckle.

“He’s good at basketball, though, I saw you two playing the other day.” Yaga lowered his head to meet the boy’s eyes. “And I heard from Kusakabe that his martial arts are superior. Have you not been wishing for a proper sparring partner?”

“Yeah,” he whined, covering his face with his hands. “Yeah, he really is that good…”

Yaga sat back up, arms folded. “Then what is the problem?”

“I don’t know!” Satoru’s fists banged on the table as he rose on his feet. “He gets on my nerves. He’s always doing everything right. You never yell at him like you yell at me, and Shoko is always glued to him now like they’re freaking twins. Utahime and MeiMei act like dogs in heat around him. And he’s always acting nice to me, like, ‘Satoru’ this, ‘Satoru’ that, acting like he knows me, and he’s always, always following me around everywhere!”

His nose seemed like it would fume. He brought a hand in front of his face and closed it into a fist. “And he always has that— that smile. And those… eyes. And that face. His face is so… so— ugh! It makes me want to—!”

Yaga let out a thunderous laugh, he had to hold his stomach with his hands to keep from falling forward.

“Why are you laughing!? It’s not funny! Can’t you see I'm miserable here? Sensei, you’re absolutely evil!”

“Sorry, Ok,” he wiped the tears of joy off his eyes. “I see what’s going on here.”

“Huh?”

It was really no wonder Satoru’s behavior had worsened since Geto’s arrival.

Gojo Satoru, the golden child of one of the most powerful clans, nurtured with praise and showered with undivided attention. Of course he would not know how to handle sharing said attention. Even more so when Geto, who was unfamiliar with the sorcery world’s rules and history, seemed so unbothered by Gojo’s name.

“Satoru,” Yaga spoke in the most gentle voice he could find within himself without laughing. “You need to learn to share the spotlight. You have some good qualities, and Geto has others, you just need to find a way to compliment each other.”

“Good qualities?! What’s so good about him?” He said, only half-heartedly. “...other than his hair… maybe.”

Yaga shook his head. “Just so you know, Geto probably acts the way he does because he just wants to be your friend. He wants to stand out because he wants your attention.”

He squinted at him, reluctant. “ My attention?”

“You think he’s up against you and wants to steal the attention from you, but really all he wants is to be your friend. So why don’t you give him a chance? Try to get to know him?”

One eyebrow raised at him with skepticism, but then lowered again as he considered. “I don’t know. You think too highly of him. He’s an asshole.”

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell Geto I told you?”

“What? That I’m your favourite student?” He elbowed him with a suggestive smile and winked at him. “Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.”

“Not in a million years.” Yaga's iron grip latched onto his arm, and twisted it softly until Satoru let out a moan in pain to yield. “You’re so full of yourself,” he scoffed, yet laughed to himself nonetheless, because as much as he tried to hide it, and as much as he hated to admit, Satoru was right, and they both knew it. But Yaga would rather die than tell that to the little prick.

“Anyway, listen. Geto grew up in a place where no other sorcerers were around, with no one to guide him. He was always beaten and punished for things he didn’t do, all because he was different. And all his parents did was to move from school to school and house to house to avoid the problem, because they refused to accept it. I was the first sorcerer he ever talked to, and you and Shoko are the first sorcerers his age he’s ever met. Of course he wants to be your friend, because for the first time, he feels there are other people like him, that he’s not alone.”

The words must have resonated with him, because Satoru had now gone quiet again. He could see the shock slowly morphing on his face, eyes widening and a frown forming in his forehead, confusion written all over him.

“Wait, they beat him just because he’s a sorcerer? But that— that doesn’t make any sense. Sorcerers are there to protect non-sorcerers.”

Yaga shook his head with regret. “When I found him, he was all beaten up on the street, and had been arrested, just because he was trying to exorcise a curse that was killing people. He was blamed for it.”

“But… why?” The boy shook his head eagerly in utter confusion, his breath quickening. He huffed a laugh in disbelief. “That— that doesn’t make any sense. He was trying to help. I don’t understand.”

“Satoru, you’ve lived among sorcerers all your life, praised for being a sorcerer. Out there, being a sorcerer is frowned upon. There is a reason we go out of our way to keep the sorcery world hidden, it’s complicated. And that is why I insist you need to learn how to conjure a veil.” The boy crumpled in his seat at this, and Masamichi knew exactly why. But he wouldn’t touch on that subject now and lose his train of thought, so he continued his speech instead. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand, but I do want you to know… this is the kind of person that Geto is. He could’ve killed that policeman, but he didn’t. And he saved many villagers, even when he was punished and bullied for it. So next time you think that he’s being fake just because he’s being nice to you, maybe think again.”

“I—” Gojo’s gaze remained low, thoughtful. “I didn’t know…”

“And you couldn’t have. Actually, you’re not supposed to.” Yaga brought a hand to his face and sighed into it. “He asked me not to tell anyone about his life before coming here, because he wanted to start from zero. His parents disowned him and cut all ties with him when I told them he was a sorcerer.”

Gojo dropped on his chair again, running a hand through his troubled face. “Oh, shit…”

“Satoru, language.”

“I’m sorry, I just— I feel stupid. I said something awful,” he brought both palms over his eyes now in shame. “Oh, god, I told him to ‘go home to his mommy’... and so many nasty things like that…” he looked up at him, eyes glazed with guilt, his eyebrows furrowed. “ Sensei , I really didn’t know…”

“Promise me you won’t say anything.”

“But I want to say sorry—”

“Promise me, Satoru.”

“Ugh. Fine.” He lowered his hands and breathed deeply. “I promise.”

“Alright.” Yaga said, grabbing his pen again. “You may go now.”

“What, now? What about detention?”

Yaga relaxed back into his chair with an audible sigh. “I think you already learned your lesson today.”

The boy’s gaze remained low. He sat there in silence for another moment before he moved to the door, and just as silently he took his leave.

“Satoru,” Yaga called just as he exited the office, the boy stopped, but he did not turn. “We all make mistakes. Don’t overthink it.”

From: Our Last Summer by Naus on A03

#satosugu #satosugu fic #stsg #yaga masamichi #satoru gojo

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manias-wordcount · 4 months ago

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View of Paradise (Satoru Gojo x Reader) PART TWELVE

[𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙀 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘾𝙃𝙊𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙊𝙍𝙔 𝘼𝙐]

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗹𝗼𝗹 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗶𝗺 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗱𝘀 (𝘀𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗺𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘆𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘃𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗲𝘁 (𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗟𝗢𝗟) 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝘁 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝗶 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛)

𝗔𝘂𝗴𝘂𝘀𝘁𝘂𝘀 𝗚𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗽: 𝗨𝗶 𝗨𝗶 𝗩𝗶𝗼𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗕𝗲𝗮𝘂��𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗱: 𝗬𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗩𝗮𝗿𝘂𝗰𝗮 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝘁: 𝗠𝗼𝗺𝗼 𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗧𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗲: 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗽𝗲𝗶

𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 || 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲 || 𝘀𝗶𝘅 || 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 || 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝗲𝗻 || 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻 || 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗹𝘃𝗲 || 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗳𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻 || 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲…

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

If yesterday felt like a blur, then today surely feels like a dream.

Your brother was barely able to get a word out when the two of you came crashing through the front door yesterday afternoon. Your parents were still at work due to the time and only your grandparents were in the house to witness you and your brother nearly fall all over each other as you both scrambled inside. Speaking of your brother, it took him nearly two minutes for him to stop the wild retelling of what happened at the diner. And it took your grandparents a good couple of tries to finally wrench out what Yuuta was trying to tell them. And then it took passing the golden ticket around for everyone to stare at and read for it to click in everyone’s minds.

Yuuta had found it- Yuuta had found the last golden ticket.

A couple of hours later, your parents come shambling through the front door themselves. They’re tired and exhausted and want nothing more than a quiet night with their family. But the second they had stepped in through the doorway, they were met with an unfamiliar sight. Your once bedridden grandparents- up and moving. Grandma Utahime was in the kitchen, trying to see if she could do something to make the taste of cabbage soup special this time around. Grandpa Aibara trying to teach you and Grandma Shoko how to do his old favorite dance (something Grandma Shoko was more than reluctant to try). And Grandpa Kusakabe standing with Yuuta, giving him a hard time about a nice girl in his class named Rika.

Naturally, everyone began to clamor around your parents the second they walked in. And Yuuta struggled once again to tell the story of how he got the ticket before giving up and just showing it to your parents. To say that they were taken aback with excitement was an understatement. Your mother nearly squealed like a child when she saw the ticket. And your father was quick to scoop you and your brother up and spin you around like he used to. Though you believe the fact that the news was currently playing the story about how the ticket that was found just last night was found to be a fake truly helped seal the deal on everyone’s good feelings. Justice had prevailed in your eyes. Your brother had found it- the last golden ticket.

Though it was only after your family had all settled back down and Grandpa Kusakabe asked to see the ticket for the umpteenth time in a row did you actually think about reading the rest of the text that sat below the giant “MR. GOJO’S GOLDEN TICKET.” And so you peered over his shoulder and read off the rest of the words on the ticket for everyone to hear.

"Greetings to you, the lucky finder of this Golden Ticket, from Mr Satoru Gojo! I shake you warmly by the hand! Tremendous things are in store for you! Many wonderful surprises await you! For now, I do invite you to come to my factory and be my guest for one whole day - you and all others who are lucky enough to find my Golden Tickets. I, Satoru Gojo, will conduct you around the factory myself, showing you everything that there is to see, and afterward, when it is time to leave, you will be escorted home by a procession of large trucks. These trucks, I can tell you are good, you will be loaded with enough delicious eatables to last you and your entire household for many years. If, at any time thereafter, you should run out of supplies, you have only to come back to the factory and show this Golden Ticket, and I shall be happy to refill your cupboard with whatever you want. " In this way, you will be able to keep yourself supplied with tasty morsels for the rest of your life. But this is by no means the most exciting thing that will happen on the day of your visit. I am preparing other surprises that are even more marvelous and even more fantastic for you and for all my beloved Golden Ticket holders - mystic and marvelous surprises that will entice, delight, intrigue, astonish and perplex you beyond measure. In your wildest dreams you could not imagine such things could happen to you! Just wait and see! And now, here are your instructions: the day I have chosen for the visit is the first day of the month of OCTOBER. On this day, and on no other, you must come to the factory gates at ten o'clock sharp in the morning. Don't be late! And you are allowed to bring one member of your own family to ensure that you don't get into mischief. One more thing - be certain to have this ticket with you, otherwise you will not be admitted.

The text was lengthy and the font size consistently got comically smaller as Mr. Gojo crammed in more and more seemingly meaningless rambles. Luckily, you were almost able to read all of it in one go. However, towards the end, you did have to tap out and ask your brother to take over for you so you could give your eyes and mouth a break. But it was only when Yuuta had stopped reading with about three or four sentences left did you all realize a glaring issue.

The ticket was good for the first of October. And today? Well, today was Yuuta’s birthday- September 30th.

The ticket was due for tomorrow. And your family had only realized this a little after nine o’clock at night.

At that, Yuuta quickly announced that he wanted to take you (as he should, in your opinion), while your Grandpa Aibara made a big fuss about falling onto his knees and pretending to beg your brother for the chance. But he was barely able to do so before your brother was snatched up by your dad as he and Grandpa Kusakabe mentioned something about shining shoes and finding a clean shirt. At the same time, you, your mother, and your grandmothers begin tearing up every single box of old clothes you four could find until you manage to find something semi-decent to wear to the opportunity of a lifetime. Before you knew it, things were a whirlwind in your house. Ironing clothes, washing faces, scrubbing out the occasional stain- the whole nine yards. And it was only sometime after midnight that you were finally, finally able to crawl into bed.

But that brings you to now… standing in front of the large Gojo Candy Factory Gates with four other families at 9:57 in the morning. On October 1st.

In your opinion, everything happened fast. Way too fast. You barely got to process the fact that your brother actually found a ticket when it happened. But now, you’re already dressed in your mother’s modest but flattering sweater dress that she wore to a wedding seven years ago and donning the pair of tights you had with the least amount of rips in them. And your brother was wearing… someone’s old sweater that clearly shrunk over the years. But the two of you were warm and standing side by side in front of those magnificent gates and that’s all that matters. Right?

Your stomach turns and you start to wish that you had enough time to eat something this morning. Things were in just such a rush and it was hard to focus considering your brother found a golden ticket, you realized that you had a shift today at work that you were ultimately going to no-show for, and…oh yeah. Your previously bedridden grandparents had suddenly found the strength to walk after years and years of not being able to.

But it’s far too late to worry or think about any of that now. It’s far too late for just about anything now. Still, Yuuta squeezes your hand and looks up to you nervously. The same feeling must be in his stomach. And you have no choice but to look back at him and smile as if everything was alright. But honestly, you’re not sure.

Right now, things were dead silent outside of the factory. Except for the occasional camera shutter and news reporter talking about the situation to both their cameras and the gigantic crowd of people who had gathered from far and wide, of course. Your parents and grandparents were somewhere in the crowd. They wrapped themselves up with blankets to replace the coats they didn’t have and stood and joined the people who had already gathered. You’re thankful for their presence, but you’re too anxious to turn and look for them at the moment. You swear you’ll lose yourself in your nerves if you look behind you, so you don’t. Instead, you continue to face out and peer at the factory behind the metal gates. Though for a moment, your eyes flicker to the watch on your wrist. It was Grandma Utahime’s at one point. Old, but not broken. It read 9:58 AM on its face. So you licked your lips and tore your gaze away.

You’re beginning to discover just how impatient of a person you actually are. Especially when you’re face to face with the very thing you deem to be the problem. Last night as you were trying to sleep, your brother kept you up with his whispers. And as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t be too mad at him. He told you all his fears when the two of you were alone and your clothes for the next day were as freshly pressed as your family could manage on such short notice and a tight budget. But Yuuta had told you how he was scared that the ticket wasn’t real. How he was scared that the two of you might show up to the gate today with someone already standing in the spot for the fifth ticket holder.

But Yuuta also told you about Mr. Geto. How Mr. Geto said he wanted to give Yuuta a present for his birthday- the candy bar he found the ticket in. How Mr. Geto told him that because the present he received ended up being so big and so grand, Yuuta now owed him a favor. But all he had to do was remember as much as he could about every single thing he saw in the factory and tell Mr. Geto all about it the next time they saw each other.

Yuuta told you that you had interrupted before he could promise Mr. Geto that he would do all that for him. But when he was mulling it over in his head and saying it out loud to you, he was unsure. Coupled with all the things Nanami had alluded to, it felt like there was more to the story than you and your brother could accurately piece together at the moment.

But you’re his big sister. So you couldn’t allow yourself to join in on his fears. You had to be strong. So you were strong for him. Even if it meant lying about your own anxieties and fears. That led to you telling him how you know in your heart that the ticket he found was real. That led to you telling him how you know for a fact that he found that ticket because he deserved it. But that also led to you telling him how he should listen to Nanami’s words and you’ll take care of whatever was happening with Mr. Geto. Because Mr. Geto was a stranger and Nanami was not. Because Nanami wouldn’t steer you or your brother wrong. But Mr. Geto might.

But that was what you said last night. Truthfully, if your brother looked at you right now and told you that he was scared, you’d probably say “Me too.”

But he didn’t say anything. So you didn’t say anything. Instead, you glanced at your watch once more. 9:59 AM and counting. You turned your attention to the sight in front of you.

The factory gates- in fact, the factory itself looks so different now that you’re not looking at it from onto a hill in the dark of the night (or while running as fast as you could past it). The realization of what you’re seeing and what is about to happen makes you antsy. The gate in front of you looked fancy and expensive. It was a shiny black metal that stretched tall, tall, tall, and rounded out its end with not-so-round pointed peaks. On each side of the gate stood a brick foundation that separated the metal gate from metal fencing of what looked like the same material. And that fencing wrapped around the entire front side of the factory- stretching about a good mile or so. But you know that mile pales in comparison to the fencing you’ve seen on the sides of the factory.

Yuuta told you how he once tried to walk the entire perimeter a long, long time ago. But he had given up after almost an hour of walking since he had even begun to find where the factory grounds would end.

But that’s just the perimeter. You know the real magic is what happens on the inside. Though admittedly, you feel that the factory has lost some of its charm now that it’s daytime. The fact that it’s an overcast, somewhat chilly day doesn’t help do anything to bring the childlike wondrous feeling you were hoping to experience. But the factory is big. And it is grand.

It’s also a bit depressing from where you stood.

Because on the other side of the gate, the factory stood silently and appeared almost aged and lonely. It looked to be completely made of a dark and intimidating metal. Tall towers and spires and pipes all colored the same foreboding gray. They spilled white smoke into the sky. Fluffy, pretty white smoke. The type one could mistake for clouds if you aren’t careful. Though the clouds being that innocent white shape and color still allowed for the setting to look horribly monotone. A sight that you found to be much more tolerable when being admired under the stars. At least the moon was able to make the exterior walls look more white and shiny than gray and well…gray. No wonder this factory was built out of the way, and way beyond city limits. Even the large mural on the side that spelled out the Gojo Candy logo in fancy, white lettering and a painted blue background did little to make the factory look more inviting. Though surprisingly, it didn’t make you any less curious.

Maybe it was because of all the neatly placed trucks just outside of the factory. Lined up and looking ready to receive packages of candy to be distributed to people all over the world despite no one reportedly ever being seen going in or out of the factory. Ever. Or maybe it was because of that white smoke. A symbol of progress. A symbol of life inside that seemingly metal prison. A symbol that someone was inside and that candy was being made and that dreams were about to come true (or rather, taste buds were about to become really, really happy).

One more glance at your watch. 10:00 AM on the dot. This old thing of yours must be correct because as soon as you spied it, a wave of murmurs broke through the crowd. It was time. And everyone knew it.

But the issue was, no one knew exactly what was going to happen. At least, nobody out here. And for a while, nobody was going to know.

Because nothing happened. At least, nothing at first.

So you licked at your lips and turned your eyes to the factory once more. But your eyes landed on one particular spot- the front entrance. At least, you could only assume it was the front entrance. It had large, heavy-looking doors that were the same look as the rest of the factory except for the fanciful carvings of a few decorative cursive G’s here and there. You thought it was a relatively pretty design for a somewhat, not-so-pretty factory. But then again, you haven’t seen very many factories in your lifetime. So perhaps you’re setting the bar too low, especially considering you’re almost half sure Gojo Candy has been around for just about twenty years? Plenty of time to make it not an eyesore. Even if no one has even been inside it before.

Still, there wasn’t too much you could say that you loved about this place now that you were looking at it in good lighting and with all the time in the world. And you suppose that there are far worse grievances to have at the moment. Especially since you seem to be one of ten people who actually get a chance to see what’s on the inside today.

You chanced another look at your watch while murmurs still continued on behind you. Still 10:00 AM? You clicked your tongue while your brother hummed thoughtfully beside you.

Taking the chance, you decided to peer a little extra hard at the front entrance once more. Perhaps all you needed was to have a little more hope and faith to make time go by faster (and make whatever was supposed to happen, happen). But you quickly realize that you’re not able to see just about anything. Not even an inch of movement or life happening around those doors. And it’s really no surprise either.

The factory itself was built quite far away from where the gate and fencing began. And so between the front and the gate was a large, stone courtyard. You could imagine all the candy trucks driving through this courtyard and out of these gates that stood in front of you with great ease. But you could also imagine a man- a world-famous chocolatier, even- peeking out of the front entrance as he watched the candy truck go by.

You couldn’t think of a face or description or just about anything to paint a picture of this person in your mind. But you could imagine the fact that there was someone behind this empire. Someone brought all these people here today. Someone just gave your brother the chance of a lifetime. Someone had put in the long hours and did their best to-

CREEAAAAAKKK!

You sucked in a large breath. At the same time, it sounded like the crowd behind you did too. Because suddenly, one of the large doors of the front entrance groaned to life. And slowly, but surely… it opened.

It’s so far away from where you’re standing. So, so, so far it would seem. And yet, you could hear the creak of the big, wide, loud thing oh so easily. The groan of a door that has either seen too much or too little use. At least, that is what you’ve deemed the cause to be. It sounds much like the doors in your own home. And in a way, that makes the daunting thing seem a little less scary than before.

But it still doesn’t settle every single one of your nerves. Not even close. Because from behind that large door stood a man. A man who, soon enough, began to make his way towards you. Towards all of you.

He laid his feet down purposely across the old cobblestone courtyard. One foot in front of the other. And for the entirety of his approach, no voice reached above a meager murmur from the crowd. You, your brother, and the other ticket holders and chaperones were at a loss for words as you watched the man from afar. At first, it was because you were surprised by how slowly he walked towards the gates. Couldn’t he see that there was a crowd waiting to get a peek inside of the very doors he just emerged from? Couldn’t he tell that there were five very eager children waiting for their once-in-a-lifetime chance to go behind those very same doors as well? You wanted to frown. But something told you to hold in line- and you’re very glad you did. Because not too soon after those thoughts entered your mind did you realize the reason for the man’s slow approach. Or rather, the two reasons.

The dark, curved handle cane in his right hand. And the slight jerk of his gait coming from the right side of his body- the telltale sign of a limp.

You must have noticed around the same time as the rest of the crowd because the impatient murmur swiftly ceased as the man came closer into view. No one dared to rush the gentleman who seemed to be moving as fast as he could towards you. No one wanted to be the one to ruin everything just to have things move a little more quickly than they would have otherwise. At least, you know you wouldn’t want to. In fact, your heart ached for this man. Was he your escort for the day? An assistant of sorts? No, that can’t be right. You’ve been around the sun long enough to hear all the rumors about Mr. Gojo and what goes on in his factory. As far as you’re concerned, there’s supposed to be no one in there but Mr. Gojo himself.

So who was this guy supposed to be? The groundskeeper? No, that couldn’t be right either. Because now that he was closer, you were able to make out some of his more prominent features outside of the limp.

He had on a nice pair of dress shoes, a dark pair of slacks, and a large, expensive-looking woolen overcoat. It was the type of coat that you would see fathers and grandfathers wear during the Sunday brunch hour at the diner. Right down to the color of it too. Although funnily enough, you continued to have trouble telling what color it was, even as the man hobbled closer. It was too rich of a color to be black or gray. But was it purple? Was it blue? You couldn’t tell. All you knew was that you found yourself liking the color. Whatever it was.

But you also noticed that despite the limp in his leg and the resulting bad posture that came from it, the man seemed to have once been extremely tall. But judging by the tuffs of pure white hair peaking out from beneath his black top hat, you can only imagine that the time in which he was in his prime must have been long, long ago. Maybe it was an injury that took away this old man’s imposing stature. Or perhaps he had just weathered along with his age.

Either way, watching the old man approach felt like watching a few of the regulars come and go in the diner. They were also older men. Men who shuffled slowly and limped to and fro just like this. Men whose wrinkled and sun-marked skin proved them at least worthy of some patience and kindness as they struggled to keep on with the rest of the world. Men who always seemed to-

…

You squinted your eyes and looked a little closer.

The man who was approaching had a limp, poor posture, and white hair.

But he did not have wrinkles. Nor did he have age spots. Or anything else that you would assume a man your grandparent’s age would have on their skin.

…

What…?

But at that point, he stopped. Almost like he sensed the question bubbling up in your mind, he froze. And then he took a deep breath in and out, placing both hands and his cane in front of him. He was a good couple of feet away from the large metal gate that separated the rest of the world from him. And you couldn’t make out much of his expression due to the pair of dark-tinted sunglasses adorning his face. It struck you as odd- it wasn’t a particularly sunny day. You didn’t think there would be much of a need for anyone to wear sunglasses.

But that was none of your business. For he was the man on the other side of the gate. The man with hair as white as snow yet skin as smooth and as clear as milk. The man who had just hobbled over to greet you and the others started right beside you. The man, who was now opening his mouth and beginning to speak:

“Well?” The stranger said in a loud, clear voice that rang across the crowd. It was different than you thought it would have sounded. Confident. Purposeful. Dare you even say, warm a little bit charming. You’re not quite sure yet. Though you suppose you’re still reeling from the shock that you can’t seem to tell just how old the man was. Then again, you imagined you could and would find out soon. “I suppose you’d like to come in now?”

At his question, you subconsciously pulled a sour face. Of course, you would like to. I’m sure everyone who gathered here would like to come in as well. But before you or just about anyone else could do anything, a voice spoke up.

“Why yes, sir.” It’s overly sweet, dripping with practiced niceness from lessons that don’t seem to work out too well. But from the few words you spoke, you detected an accent- a posh one you could only recognize as belonging to the second winner of the golden tickets. The girl with the rich parents and the factory of their own. “We would love to come in! Now if you don’t mind…”

You looked over at her when she talked and you were able to look just in time to see the fake grin on her face melt down to a more impatient look. As much as you remember disliking the girl, you couldn’t blame her. You’re starting to feel the same way she did. But the man behind the gate just clicked his tongue and shook his head at the little girl’s words.

“If I don’t mind? Well, you’re late now- all of you. It’s four minutes past the hour.” The man stated simply before cocking his head. Even from afar, you could see his lips form into a puzzled frown. “Why haven’t you opened the gate then?”

At his question you balk. And judging by how stiff your brother went right next to you, you can only imagine that he is processing the same emotions as you did. When the two of you arrived at the gate, you were busy thanking your lucky stars that you just so happened to live within walking distance (well, about two or so miles if you cut through enough people’s backyards and use all of your brother’s shortcuts in the book) from the very factory that the ticket winners were supposed to report to. The first, original, and only Gojo Candy Factory despite its nearly twenty years of history and worldwide presence. But by the time you managed to pull your brother through the crowd of grabby hands and make your way towards the front where a row of policemen were there to help you past a meager little barricade, you found that you and your brother were the last to arrive. And with only minutes to spare.

And not once did you ever think about reaching out and touching the gate…

But luckily, someone else did.

“I already tried! Damn thing won’t open” It’s another girl’s voice. It’s as young as the first’s girls voice, and judging from the confident and strong way she spoke, you could only assume this was the girl who won the third ticket. From what you caught of her interview after she had won, she struck you as the type of girl who would go and face any challenge head-on. Even if that challenge involved touching the gate of a building that clearly isn’t yours. “Aren’t you supposed to have a key? Can’t you unlock it? Why haven’t you opened the gate?”

But before the little girl could even finish speaking, the man on the other side of the gate threw his head back and let out a loud laugh at the sky. The type that sprouted from your belly and bubbled up until it was out in the open for all to hear and enjoy. And it was a joyous sound- that man’s laughter. It was as if he had heard the funniest joke you could think of. But it caught just about everyone off guard with how suddenly it happened. You found yourself almost joining in quietly because it took you by such surprise. But just as quickly as it started, the man’s laughter ceased.

“No, no,” He said to himself, a smile playing on his lips. “That won’t do.”

His shoulders still shook silently, like the thought of what must have made him laugh was still lingering in his ears. You were only just vaguely aware of the whispers behind you that were starting to grow in volume. People had the same questions as you regarding this man and his behavior. People had the same wishes as you regarding the delay of…well, whatever this was supposed to be. But the man seemed to pay no mind to the whispers.

Perhaps he couldn’t hear them. Or perhaps he just didn’t care.

Instead of addressing the girl or the crowd or the whispers any further, the man just clicked his tongue and slowly turned his head, as if surveying the crowd. His gaze seemed slow and deliberate. As if he had a lot on his mind and so much time. Behind you, the whispers grew louder. Only some voices refused to speak in whispers anymore. Some returned to a normal volume. Some spoke in volumes even greater than that. Grumbles mixed with mumbles. Scoffs trampled over huffs and puffs of frustration. A news reporter some ways behind you on your left began getting a play-by-play on what was happening while the man from behind the gate still took his sweet time with whatever he was doing.

At the same time, you heard some of the other winners and their chaperones speak amongst themselves. A young boy’s voice spoke about how he was bored and wanted to go home. When a motherly voice responded to him saying how they would not go home after all this trouble, the boy only shot back about how he clearly didn’t bring enough video games to deal with this. One of the girls made a complaint about the time this was taking too before turning to ask whoever she was with to make time go faster. And another boy mentioned how he was getting nervous and hungry and he didn’t like that he was being kept from the thing that he wanted most.

But to be honest, you were a bit busy focusing on your brother.

Somewhere amidst all the weird and silent confusion, your brother had begun squeezing your hand tight. Something you noticed he was doing a lot more recently. When your eyes peered down to look at him, you saw that the tips of his ears were red and he had refused to meet your eyes. He was still holding on to some of those nerves from last night. Hell, you were too. But it seemed like all this deliberation was only adding to your brother’s fears.

“Yuuta,” You whispered to him before squeezing his hand back. You turned your head towards him and offered him as comforting of a smile as you could muster. Years of being a waitress as made you good at things like these. But years of being his older sister? It damn made you perfect and knowing what he needed and when. “It’ll be okay. Just watch, alright? It’ll all be okay. ”

Yuuta hesitated, but eventually, he gave up and nodded before looking up at you to say something. But whatever words he had instantly died in his throat as his gaze caught on to something in front of him. You didn’t catch on right away. In fact, it was only a few seconds later when you realized how eerily quiet the crowd had grown once more that you decided to look into your brother’s sudden change in behavior and followed his gaze.

And there, in front of you, stood the man with the white hair and the top hat and the dark overcoat. Only this time, your vision of him was not obscured. Not by distance. And not by the dark pair of sunglasses donning his face either. Because right now, he was close enough that you could make out the fact that the man had seemingly no imperfections visible whatever so ever. Because right now, he was close enough that you could see the bright, brilliant blue color of his eyes peering over the rims of his glasses.

And that’s when you truly realized why you were close enough to see him- that man with the joyous laugh and brilliantly white hair- in this way. He had closed the distance between himself and the crowd. He had closed the distance between himself and the winners of the golden tickets. He had closed the distance between himself and your brother. And you. But most importantly: He was standing with you and your brother, on the other side- your side- of the gate.

On the other side of the locked gate.

And now?

“Well, young man?”

He was leaning down, down, down to meet your brother at eye level. Kneeling on one knee, he settled a mere foot away from Yuuta, before offering up a ridiculously pretty, blinding white smile full of a sort secrets and stories. Secrets and stories just begging to be told. But ones you’re not so sure they ever would receive such a luxury. But what do you know? Well, after this encounter, you’ve found that you’re quite sure of one thing, at least.

“Why don’t you give it a try?”

You’re not sure you know anything at all.

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stxrysnow · 5 months ago

Text

— let me show you the world.

synopsis. satoru gojo isn’t a man with the most company in the world. after all, being ‘the strongest’ does come with a price— perhaps, being the most lonely one as well.

but things have changed since the queen of ice came into his life.

genres/themes. satoru gojo x elsa, crack, fluff, crossover ship, satoru giving golden retriever energy while elsa gives the black cat vibes, nothing really— just a sweet bickering couple, satoru being the nickname lord.

yoi’s notes. tell you what, i actually do not write crossover ships. but since i hadn’t mentioned in my rules about requests. . . i’ll consider this wish. i had fun writing this LMAOO—

word count. 1.2k

wished by. @idkidkdikdi

“baby, it sure is cold today, hm?”

the sorcerer chuckled, one hand of his finding its way back to her smaller one— where it belonged— azure eyes twinkling with amusement as his towering frame stared at her.

of course, just like his hand— satoru gojo found a home in elsa, a home that was irreplaceable— a home that he loved and cherished so much that it almost hurt him. but was he complaining? hell no.

“why do you call me that?” the white-haired woman said, tilting her head slightly in confusion as she stared up at satoru— and oh did he felt his heart clench by the amount of strength it required to not fall to his knees before her right there and then— “i am not a child.”

satoru couldn’t help it anymore.

a bark of laughter escaped his lips as he threw his head back, tears threatening to spill from his eyes at how simply— though adorably serious— clueless elsa was.

“oh my god,” he wheezed, his free hand reaching up to push his round, black glasses to make them perch atop his head, as he wiped his watery eyes. “give— give me a moment, love . .”

sensing elsa’s mixed look of confusion and scepticism, his laughter finally subsided— a wide grin taking its place instead.

“ . . elsa, sweetheart,” he said, voice still a bit hoarse from laughing so much, “we talked about this, remember? ‘baby’ is someone you call a loved one.”

elsa’s mystifying blue eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she tried to remember.

ah, that talk. still, she couldn’t help but have uncertainty linger on her mind.

“isn’t it rather strange, though?” she pondered, “calling your lover a term that technically means a child.”

satoru felt a thin stream of sweat trickling down his face, which was rather strange— since it was snowing and the peak of winter— so it sure as hell wasn’t the heat. a sudden urge to laugh again crossed through his mind but he quickly shoved it down— a flickering smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“ah, nevermind, my love,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walked through the snow-clad streets. “don’t busy your mind with such useless thoughts, hm? c’mon, i gotta show you so much today.”

“hm.”

they walked through the streets, sharing occasional conversations with each other.

by conversations, it is meant that satoru was talking and elsa was listening.

elsa didn’t quite mind, though. she was quite— used to being surrounded by highly . . . energetic people, after all. even back in arendelle, anna used to constantly ramble on and on about her day while elsa listened patiently, giving her occasional hums of approval, as they sat underneath the clear night skies, watching the days go by . . .

things had changed so much.

back there she was, playing the role of a queen she wasn’t sure she could handle— the weight of her powers and the expectations of the people— what if they found out? conceal, don’t reveal— living a childhood full of loneliness because of her powers, shutting out anna because she’d been so, so afraid of hurting her.

because of her powers.

but then again, hadn’t she also found her true worth— building a castle out of her powers, realising that it was better to let it go— and embrace herself for someone who she truly was, rather than putting on a façade of something that she wasn’t? hadn’t she finally accepted that her powers could never get into the way of having a bond with her people, if she didn’t let them?

of course she had.

as she angled her head upwards to gaze at satoru, who was looking at his phone distractedly while trying to figure out which restaurant to go to, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection— a not-so-foreign feeling, yet, also the one she felt when she was with satoru.

her one and only.

“aw, man, the mochi shop’s closed today,” she heard him whine, and a small chuckle escaped her without her realising.

satoru paused, sensing her gaze on him. a small, almost boyish grin spread on his face as he beamed down at her— azure eyes glimmering with mischief and affection.

“oh my,” he said in a mock-despaired manner, heaving a dramatic sigh, “woe is me, for my own darling has decided to find humour in my misery!”

her one and only headache, more like.

but hey, she wasn't complaining.

“how devastating,” elsa answered idly, rolling her eyes. “theatrics do not suit you, satoru.”

“c’mon,” he let out an amused scoff, “why’re you smiling then? you can admit you like it too, y’know— hey, waaiitt—” satoru let out a small, false yelp as elsa’s hands were quick enough to latch onto his cheeks whist she pulled at them mercilessly.

“you’re so foolish sometimes,” she muttered, though her voice carried no resentment— just pure affection.

satoru grinned, letting out a small sigh as he gently removed her hands from pulling onto his cheeks, slipping it into his pocket whilst engulfing it with his own.

“what are you doing?” elsa raised a brow, looking at the path ahead.

“jus’ keeping ya warm,” satoru let out a small laugh, “ ’s cold, hm?”

“did you forget that i don’t feel the cold?”

“nah.”

“then why— ah, nevermind,” she let out a small chuckle, rolling her eyes.

the sound of their boots clacking softly against the snow clad streets filled the air, along with satoru’s rambles about his earlier days and what food he was excited to try with her— a sound that resonated on and on like a never-ending melody within elsa’s frozen, yet human heart— one which she wished would never, ever end, even though she wouldn’t admit it infront of someone.

“we’re here!” satoru’s eyes were filled with childish glee as they approached the ice-cream parlour whilst he practically dragged her along with him, “c’mon!”

“alright, alright—” a small laugh escaped elsa’s lips as she let herself be dragged— blue eyes filled with adoration for the one whom she called hers.

“what is this?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the swirly, cream-like, white thing in a strangely textured, brown bowl satoru brought for her after a few minutes after, whilst they sat on the high schools of the shop.

“it’s ice-cream,” satoru said, letting out a small laugh, “try it.”

elsa eyed the sweet treat suspiciously for a moment, before the tip of her tongue darted out to give it a small, tentative lick.

her eyes widened, a small blush of contentment spreading on her cheeks as she gazed at satoru in awe.

“how is it, sweetheart?” he chuckled, enjoying her flabbergasted, yet happy expression.

“it’s . . . cold. and sweet,” elsa said in a hushed whisper, a small smile breaking out on her face, “it tastes nice.”

“as it should,” the sorcerer tapped her nose affectionately, before taking a large bite out of his own ice-cream. “i figured the ice queen might like something cold, like ice-cream.”

“that rhymes,” elsa pondered, before a laugh escaped her— while satoru stared, the fond smile never leaving his face. “what is this brown thing?”

“that’s a waffle. it’s like a biscuit,” satoru answered.

“so . . . you eat it too?”

“mhm, go on, try it,” he laughed, watching her take a hesitant, small bite of the waffle, heart swelling in the way her eyes sparkled with relish, widening in awe.

though being the ice queen, she sure knew how to make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, that was for sure.

☆ @dontcarehowlongittakes on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

#void.yoi☆#elsa x gojo #crossover #crossover ship #LMAOOOO #gojo satoru #queen elsa #elsa frozen #crack fic #crackship #jjk fluff #frozen #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #crack ship

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songsofadelaide · 1 year ago

Text

Asleep Among Endives

Chapter 2 — The Sun

In the summer of 1997, the fledgling clan head of the superpower Gojo Clan fancied you a playmate, one headstrong enough to disregard the warnings about befriending a little god who might ensnare you with a curse. When you first met the young Satoru, everything around you turned a lovely sky blue. Little did you know that the very same thing happened to him, and you painted his life in shining gold-like sunlight.

[A Gojo Satoru x Reader fic, ongoing]

cw/tw: childhood trauma, implied/referenced child abuse, naoya being a little creep wc: 10.2k. ✾ Fic Masterlist ✾ Chapter 1 ✾ Chapter 3 ✾ ~Interlude~ — In the Quiet

— The Sun.

~ 1997.

It is said in the old times that a child is assumed to be a person of God until they reach the age of seven. By then, a little one should have a foundation of their soul and a heart of a human. Why was it that you only had a faith shaken by the very person who raised you and a heart hardened by your strange circumstances?

About a month before your seventh birthday, Lady Suzuna tasked Kazuya and Chiemi to extend invitations to the children and young heirs and heiresses of the different sorcerer families. Seven was the perfect age to make friends and create lasting bonds, the most perfect opportunity to connect with other sorcerer children with similar experiences. It was an auspicious day for a birthday celebration as well, and what better way to commemorate your birth than formally announcing you as the official heir to the Koganei Clan leadership?

A day before the celebration, every servant in every corner of the ancient traditional home was busy preparing the Koganei Estate for the ingress of guests from sorcerer families and the clan's business partners alike. Everyone seemed to be in a constant state of movement while you and your mother leisurely walked around your home, the softness of your padded footsteps seemingly fading into the background of your family's busyness.

"This tree was a gift to the city from our family back in the 1920s. It's grown remarkably well over time, but it is different from the rest of the ginkgo that line Meiji Jingu Gaien. The leaves of the trees outside fall and grow according to the season while ours remains the same all year round. I suppose we can attribute it to our cursed energy. Unlike other sorcerers, we make use of our power by healing, not so much exorcising," Suzuna stated, your smaller hand in hers as you took your time to walk around the estate's private gardens. The perennial aged ginkgo tree that has been there for as long as you can remember towered over your forms. Summer, spring, autumn, winter— regardless of the season, this tree remained alive and flourishing, its golden leaves constantly raining on this particular part of the estate. The tree has seen the coming and passing of former clan leaders, and you had no doubt in your mind that it will surely still be here by the time you pass away as well. "It's beautiful but resilient."

The afternoon breeze was cool against your ankles, the wind gently blowing through your striped yukata as you took measured steps beside your mother in this sectioned-off area of the garden. There was a sacredness to the tree's age now, and the family gardeners probably didn't want guests and strangers wandering in here and causing any hurt or damage to it.

"Otome, tomorrow is your birthday. I know you would have wanted to celebrate the day of your birth with your family— your real family… Which is why I asked Kanade-san to assist with tomorrow's preparations. She and I will help dress you in your celebratory clothes."

"Oh…" Your grip on the older woman's hand tightened, though you tried to hold your calm expression. "Th-Thank you very much for your consideration, okaa-sama."

"What did I tell you about your emotions, my girl?" The older woman shook her head, a slight tsk leaving her lips. "Your eyes are shining. I can tell you're about to cry tears of joy."

"I'm sorry," came your only response. Lying to her was never a good idea when the truth is already blatantly obvious to her.

"I'll forgive you just this once since it's your birthday," Suzuna stated, a small smile gracing her painted lips now. "Ah, here she is."

Her comment made you look up from your path, and you felt her slowly turn you the other way, a kind hand on your back as she eventually let go of you. From across the garden stood your mother— the one who gave birth to you— in a muted mustard yukata, the family's standard servants' attire.

"Good day to you, ojou-sama," came your birth mother's greeting as she bowed before you and the lady of the house. "And to the madam as well."

"You may approach," came Suzuna's soft command. She gave you a gentle push toward the other woman. "And you may greet your mother."

You tried desperately not to let the excitement show in your steps, but your sprint betrayed you as you happily hurled yourself into your mother's open arms. "Okaa-chan!"

The two women couldn't blame you for your reaction. You were only a child, still so clueless about the weight of the crown about to rest on your little head. And yet there was a certain maturity now evident on your face, the warmest of smiles on your lips as you hugged your birth mother. You happily buried your face in her chest, feeling the beat of her heart against your cheek.

"Oh, how you've grown, my little love…" Mustard sleeves enveloped you in a warm embrace, but you did not cry even though you wanted to. You couldn't bring yourself to, even though her words were so similar to what your… stepmother— I suppose I could call Suzuna that— said mere moments ago. "Strong and lovely, just like our ginkgo tree."

Summer nights were like a spell itself. Something about the balmy weather and the trilling of the cicadas often drew people into some kind of trance. You were no different from those under summer's thrall even though you were born in this season. In fact, summer's magic seemed to be even more potent now than ever. On the night before your birthday celebrations, you found your little feet walking towards your family's secluded garden, the one where the ancestral ginkgo tree stood, towering over the still and silent estate.

You had no idea what time it was, but you were awakened by the sound of soft crying coming from the foot of the tree. It was strange that no one else could hear it except you, even more so now that you were face to face with the weeping figure.

It was a woman, one you haven't seen in the estate before. She did not wear the standard servants' attire but instead donned a lovely kimono in the shades of bamboo and sunrise. Something about her felt otherworldly as she paid no mind to your approach, her face concealed in the sleeves of her dress.

"Are you all right? Why are you crying?" You asked her, though she did not respond. "Please don't be sad…"

The phantasm stilled at the sound of your concerned yet inquisitive voice, her arms slowly dropping to reveal her face to you.

"You can see her?" Came a voice that was very much real this time you nearly jumped from your spot in shock.

"O-Okaa-sama!"

Still in her sleepwear similar to yours, Suzuna approached you, mere steps away from the base of the tree where the crying woman stood. "Answer my question, daughter."

Spirit sight is the most basic technique a child can develop before being able to fully harness cursed energy. At the same time, it is the most important skill a sorcerer requires in order to be able to harness cursed energy.

"Yes… I-I only came here because I heard her, okaa-sama. No one else but you came to see her, too…"

"There is no need to be so nervous, daughter," Suzuna stated as she placed a hand on your head and gently ruffled your hair. "Do you know who she is?"

And children from sorcerer families who lack the most common ability that should be known to all sorcerers are no better than the average person.

You shook your head in response to her question.

"You and I descended from a pathetic man. We come from a long line of desperate people who wanted nothing but to prove their worth, even if it meant breaking the hearts of their loved ones," she said softly, holding the crying woman's gaze as she took your smaller hand in hers once more. "Uesugi Karui married for love and received nothing but heartache in return when she couldn't give birth to a child with Koganei Masahito's gift."

Uesugi Karui… You've heard that name before from one of your mother Kanade's bedtime stories. Karui was the first wife of the clan founder who bore him many children, all of whom he cast aside in favour of bastards who were fortunate enough to inherit his prized reverse cursed technique. Masahito's bloodline branched off into numerous families, and even Suzuna herself couldn't determine from which one she originated, even though she was certainly born into the main family.

She could not relate to Karui's plight. How could she? When she herself decided to take a lover apart from her own husband out of sheer desperation. She sighed to herself, prompting you to look up at her. "I suppose I'm no different from that man, too."

Karui's presence, after lying dormant for so long, only seemed to solidify the theory that she was here to curse the existing Koganei Clan, even though it has been hundreds of years since she last possessed the name. Suzuna last saw her when she was just a child herself and she had no guiding hand before like you did now.

"I know we aren't the only ones who can see you, but we are the only ones brave enough to ask," she told the unmoving phantasm, still rooted in her position at the base of the ginkgo tree. "Are you here to curse us? To curse… this child?"

The spirit of the weeping woman moved ever so slightly, her approach toward you blocked by your stepmother. Suzuna shielded you from Karui by taking a step forward, hiding you behind her skirts. "If you're going to curse someone, curse me instead. This child is…"

Karui slowly shook her head in response to the other woman's statement. She moved to touch your forehead, smiling as you laughed at the ticklish cold that was her cursed energy. "It's true that I married for love, and even if I were to return to those days, I would not have it any other way."

Uesugi Karui was not at all a vengeful spirit, but simply a ghost still in unrest.

"There are things you regret, Suzuna. Some of which are already far too late to take back," the lovely phantasm stated, the sadness in her eyes softening to a rueful expression. "However, it is not too late for her."

"I…" Suzuna's voice cracked. "I did what I had to do, as did you…"

"But did you do it out of love? Your obsession with duty will drive you to your grave early," Karui told her. "I am not a vengeful spirit, but there is a greater chance of that happening to you if you do not temper your expectations."

Your mother's hold on you tightened ever so slightly.

"I lived for many more years even after danna-sama passed away, and though my children and I were looked down on because none of them possessed their father's gift, I made sure to fill our home with so much love that they had no time to pay attention to every terrible thing being said about us," the phantasm stated, holding her hand out to you. You looked up at Suzuna once more, who only nodded at you in response. "I do not pass on any curse to you, young Koganei born with the gift. All I ask is for you to live your life with so much love that you have no room in your heart to curse anyone else. Not even your mother who gave you away, not even this mother of yours who has been cruel to you, not even your sister who wishes for your unhappiness, and not even those who wish to possess you for themselves."

Karui's hand was cold as ice, yet there was a gentleness to her touch when she spoke to you, lulling you to sleepiness. You could not recall how you found your way back to your bed that night. When you awoke the following morning, your fingertips were freezing even though it was a rather warm day.

"Good morning, ojou-sama," came an even warmer greeting. You smiled as you felt a gentle hand over your forehead, brushing away the hair that fell over your eyes. "Happy birthday to you."

The servants weren't any less busy despite all the preparations made yesterday. When the day of your seventh year finally came, it was time for the main family to do their job— welcoming and receiving their guests. While the Lady Suzuna was busy ensuring you were dressed in your very best for this day, it was her family who became the face and front of the clan, and she relied on her husband to hold the fort while she was still away.

Kazuya's father, Kaminari Kyouya, is the second-born son of his own sorcerer clan, one rich in magicians who practised lightning sorcery. He and Suzuna were childhood friends and he chose to marry into the Koganei Clan out of his great love for her. In fact, he loved his wife so much that he was willing to look the other way when she decided to have a child with another man.

Kyouya and his children stood dutifully just outside the estate's genkan, warmly welcoming every guest that arrived with presents and blessings in tow for the heir's birthday. While Kazuya imitated his father's mild demeanour, Chiemi was growing tired of having to greet people she didn't know. She tugged at the older man's forest green hakama, looking up at him with wide and innocent eyes.

"Papa, can you carry me?" She asked him, punctuating her question with a very sweet-sounding, "Please?"

He knew that this child wasn't his, yet he loved her all the same. How could he not? She had the very same eyes as her mother, the same ones he first fell in love with so long ago. He scooped up the little girl in her pink kimono and nuzzled her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Of course, my little Chi. Are you tired? We only have to do this for a bit more, then we can go back inside."

Suzuna stepped out of the genkan to join her family in welcoming their guests. She wore an elegant kimono the same shade of forest green as her husband's attire. "Kyou, you ought to stop spoiling Chiemi. She's already five."

"Mama's being mean again, papa…" Chiemi buried her face deeper into the crook of her father's neck.

"I know, Chi. Don't worry about her," Kyouya murmured in reply to the girl with a pleased smile on his face. Perhaps five was already a bit too old to be carried, but he couldn't resist his daughter's pleading adoration. "We've been standing out here for quite some time now, Suzu. Besides, I don't mind holding my girl for a little while."

"That's not the point," Suzuna tried arguing. "Chiemi, you—"

"Oh, hush, you. Guests are arriving, so let's not argue here, please," he said with a chuckle even though he wanted to silence his wife. "Smile, Suzu. Here come the representatives from the Tokyo Saenome Clan."

And she did so, equally amused and equally annoyed at her husband's dismissal of their exchange. She greeted their guests pleasantly and it took her some time to realise there were only three of them by the entrance. "Now where did Kazuya run off to?"

The clever boy slipped away in the middle of his parents' bantering. Kazuya paid no mind to the servants bowing before him as he passed by them, his steps on the redwood engawa loud and impatient. He was eager to find you before any of the other guests did and was more than pleased to find you just about to step out of your room.

The shoji slid open, and you walked out with a measured step, not at all used to the weight of your outfit for the day— a crimson kimono embroidered with hundreds and hundreds of golden ginkgo leaves being blown by the wind.

"Oh, Kazu-nii!" You happily greeted the older boy in the same forest green hakama as his father.

"Happy birthday, Otome. May you always be blessed with good health and happiness all your days."

"Thank you very much, Kazu-nii," you replied to him with a bow, remembering your stepmother's instructions from earlier today. Bow with gratitude.

"This is for you," the boy handed you a gold-coloured omamori you recognised as something from the Meiji Shrine near your home. "A present, for good fortune."

"Oh, thank you! I promise to treasure this," you stated rather excitedly before safely tucking the amulet into your obi, making it another accessory in your already intricate outfit for the day.

"Bocchan, it's time for Otome-sama to see her guests," said the servant who assisted in dressing you. He recognised her as your birth mother. She wasn't in the standard servants' attire this time but in a kimono the colour of sunrise, the image of an aged tree with falling golden leaves printed on its front folds.

Ah, the boy thought to himself. The older woman's dress was more similar to yours than his family's ensemble, even though you were part of his family. Then again, it was no secret to jujutsu society that you were not Koganei Suzuna's blood-born child, but one from the branch family.

Kanade smiled at him. "Would you be willing to escort her to the audience hall?"

"O-Of course, Kanade-san!" Kazuya replied, an embarrassed expression on his face as he turned to meet your expectant eyes. He feigned a cough into his fist and offered you an elbow. "Shall we, then, my sister?"

"Mm! Let's go!"

You were aware that the celebration was by no means a simple one, but a grand honouring of your birth and your role as the future leader of your sorcerer clan. However, you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the large number of guests that arrived to personally greet you today. The estate shoin was filled to the brim with unfamiliar people both young and old in more traditional attire in various colours and degrees of formality, and they rose to their feet to clap for you as you stepped into the audience hall in your brother's arm.

The rumbling applause gradually died down as you took your place in the centre of the hall, surrounded by your immediate family— Suzuna, Kyouya, Kazuya, Chiemi, and your birth mother, Kanade. The two women each gave you a kiss on your cheek, while Kyouya gently placed an ornate glass kanzashi on your head.

"Many happy returns of the day, Otome-chan," the older man greeted you with a smile, to which you replied with another.

"Thank you very much, otou-sama."

The Koganei servants started to bring in the food and drink, allowing the older and elderly guests their meal as the children lined up before you, smiles on their faces and gifts in hand as they prepared to greet you. You felt no different from the hina dolls that adorned your family home, visitors paying you homage like a tiny goddess reborn from so long ago.

You sat seiza right in the middle, the sleeves of your crimson kimono reaching the golden tatami floor as you remained perfectly still, giving your newfound friends the occasional bow of gratitude as they approached in a neat line. You thanked each one who presented their gift to you, each decision made with great consideration for your person— Porcelain tea sets, freshly-made ichigo daifuku, a calligraphy set with a bottle of golden ink, a rose-coloured kinchaku, a tortoiseshell kanzashi— the presents piled up by the minute, but the line was disrupted by a dark-haired boy with the sharpest brown eyes, closely followed by a family attendant with a large ornate box in hand.

"Happy Birthday, young lady of the Koganei house," he said with a smile. The boy wore a pressed white dress shirt underneath his navy blue kimono, and he effectively blocked your line of sight to ensure he had your full attention. "I am Zenin Naoya, son of Zenin Naobito. It is with great honour that I present to you a gift from our family."

The boy you only knew from your mother's narrative has finally made himself known. He was only a few months older than you, but he spoke with the eloquence of an elderly man with the hint of an old accent that slightly irked you.

"Thank you very much, Zenin Naoya-sama," you stated with the same measured bow you gave everyone as you received the present from his servant. You were about to set it aside when he spoke again.

"I would like for you to open it before everyone."

His statement prompted you to turn to Suzuna, who only nodded at you from across the room. Seeing her confirmation and the fact that she was still keeping an eye on your conduct reassured you, so you delicately unwrapped the present before the boy. It was a beautiful silk kimono the colour of flint, and finely embroidered with bright orange thread were the detailed feathers of a bird— which at first you thought was Suzaku, but upon closer inspection was something else entirely.

"That is Nue, one of the shikigami of our family's Ten Shadows Technique," Naoya stated rather proudly. "While I don't possess the technique and I am unable to summon it, that won't stop me from appreciating its beauty and said ferocity."

Talkative was the first impression the Zenin child left upon you. He was evidently proud of his heritage, but what good is all of that showmanship if he's rude to everyone else?

"It's beautiful, indeed. You have my gratitude for such a lovely present. I understand you took time off your day to visit me on my birthday and you wish to speak with me more, but it would be rude of me to hold the line even longer when every other guest here did the same as you," you replied to him with a pleasant smile that visibly flustered him. You lowered your head to a bow as Naoya slowly stepped away from you, cheeks flaming red in both embarrassment and infatuation, not that you were aware of the latter.

"Huh. So he really was a brat," Suzuna murmured to herself as she watched from afar how you handled the very entitled Zenin child and put him in his place. She had her drink in hand as she sat across her husband and son, who were conversing about something else. A small hand gently tugged at her sleeve.

"Did you say something, mama?" Asked Chiemi, who looked up to her with a measured head tilt that anyone would find adorable.

"Nothing at all, Chiemi," the older woman replied, smiling as she tucked away a lock of her daughter's curly hair behind her ear. "Have you… greeted your sister a happy birthday today?"

"…Do I still have to? So many people are here for her already!" The little girl said with a pout.

"I'm sure your greeting would mean a lot to her, Chi-chan," Kazuya piped in on his sister's conversation with their mother. "Look, Otome's about to take a step outside for a bit. Why don't we go see her?"

"I don't wanna!"

Chiemi was fine left alone in a corner, Kazuya knew that much. Though he knew jealousy played a part, he still had a difficult time fully understanding why his sister felt that way about you. Whatever you had was given to her as well, even though you did not ask for any of it yourself. There were times Chiemi was given more, but it did not matter at all to you. You were happy to see that she was happy, and that seemed to incense her even more.

Today was the only day you were given more than her and she tried to be on her best behaviour… Yet even after receiving the harshest scolding of her life about a month ago, nothing could stop Chiemi's ever-growing rage over her own family's preference for a daughter who shared no immediate blood ties with them.

"Fine. I'll greet her. I'll greet her so you can shut up about it, onii."

There was little Kazuya could do except follow his little sister with haste as she got up and hurriedly trailed you out of the audience hall, the look on her face foreboding chaos.

"Chiemi!"

You were already a bit spent to notice the younger girl's approach. It wasn't at all easy sitting perfectly still and you overestimated your capability to remain in the same position for the rest of the day. As you stepped out of the hall and into the redwood engawa to take a moment to breathe and stretch your tired legs, you found yourself suddenly pushed from behind and falling off the edge of the walkway, the speed of your descent only quickened due to the weight of your outfit.

"Ojou-sama!" Came the panicked cry of your mother, who hurriedly tried to reach for you as you tipped off the engawa.

"Chiemi, no!" Kazuya exclaimed as he eventually caught up with the girl in the pink kimono, encasing her in his arms to prevent her from acting any further. He was moments too late, however, as he found your figure lying face down on the ground.

The fall wasn't that far, but it still hurt. You tried to make sense of things as they were unfolding at the moment, not at all letting your sister's actions affect your judgement. You expected her to pull a stunt like this today and you were right to think of your reaction thoroughly beforehand. "Okaa-chan, please take her away before people start to notice."

"Haa?! Who do you think you are ordering people to— A-And don't you dare touch me, you—"

The sound of Chiemi's shrieking complaints was drowned out when an unfamiliar voice asked you, "Are you okay?"

You raised your head and found a slender hand outstretched to you. You grasped it and allowed this person to help you up on your feet again despite not knowing who they were. "I'm fine. Thank you very much."

It was a boy with eyes as blue as the clear ocean and hair like starlight. He held your gaze long enough for you to forget what just transpired, the intense and ethereal look in his eyes taking you someplace else— It felt like you were standing in the middle of the ocean, frigid snow blowing across your face yet it didn't hurt. More than anything, the sound of the waves and tides was comforting—

"You have some dirt on your face," he said, his voice pulling you back to reality and the incident that just occurred between you and your siblings. He brought the sleeve of his pale blue yukata to your cheek. "Ne, Kazuya, if this girl truly is as important as you say she is, why are you letting that kid smack her around?"

The unnamed boy's remark seemed to anger Chiemi even further, and she thrashed in her brother's arms. "I-I'm not just some kid! I am Koganei Chiemi! Koganei Suzuna's true daughter, the beauty—"

"Blah, blah, blah. Is that it? You expect people to bend over backwards for you just because you're pretty?" He rolled his eyes at the younger girl. "I'm not into whiny little brats like you."

"W-Wait, Satoru," came Kazuya's sudden plea. "Please don't—"

"I'll pretend I never saw anything here, but I suggest you keep the feral animals in their cages," stated Satoru, the boy in the blue yukata. He pulled something from out of his sleeves and handed it over to you. "This is for you, Koganei girl. Happy birthday."

He found his way up to the audience hall and eventually disappeared into the crowd. You opened the slender box in your hands, evidently mystified as you laid eyes on his gift: a set of prayer beads the colour of the clear ocean.

The Lady Suzuna patiently waited until evening, until all the guests have been sent off, to handle the incident that occurred between you and Chiemi earlier in the day. Other family members knew better than to get in the way of the matriarch's warzone-like discipline.

"How many times must I tell you, Chiemi? You speak out of turn and expect everyone to be gracious with you, is that it?" She stated, her voice calm and firm even as her daughter squirmed away from her grasp. "You're fortunate Otome made the right choice to send you away rather than stoop down to your level of immaturity."

You begged for lenience for the younger girl but were faced with the older woman's fury just as much as she was angry with her own daughter.

"Okaa-sama, please… This… solves nothing. You said it yourself. She'll just keep on hating me…" You pleaded, writhing in agony as you clutched your stomach after being kicked away. You were not able to defend yourself well this time. "I promised to never curse anyone, not even her…"

"I will beat the anger out of Chiemi until she understands that she is not the only daughter I have," the older woman said, her palm landing angrily on the younger girl's bottom. "I asked her to behave herself for one day—"

"Koganei-sama," came the voice of an elderly servant from outside the room. "My apologies for interrupting… There is a messenger from the Gojo Clan waiting for you."

"What?!" Suzuna hissed. Why the Gojo Clan of all people? She had no answers and only grew even angrier at the thought of you misbehaving yourself before the son of the prominent clan. "Otome! Did you do anyth—"

"I-I didn't—!"

"If I may, my lady," the servant continued. "It seems their young master has taken an interest in Otome-ojou. Satoru-sama is inviting her to the G—"

Satoru wants to see me again? But why?

"Leave us!" The older woman commanded, to which the servant replied with a faint acknowledgement and the scurrying away of padded feet. She slumped to the floor, dropping Chiemi in the process. She was obviously at her wit's end now and she needed answers. "You spoke to him?"

You sat up and straightened your back, taking a deep breath before responding to her question. "Yes, okaa-sama. He— Gojo-sama— helped me to my feet when I… fell off the step earlier."

"That child is not your ordinary boy. His birth changed the balance of the jujutsu world. He is like a little god," Suzuna stated, a sigh of exhaustion leaving her painted lips. "And you, a little goddess in his midst."

This wasn't news to her. Gojo Satoru isn't the first boy to show an interest in her heir. However, she had no idea whether or not this invitation was truly from the little god himself or if it was the working of other elements.

"Normally, you would be allowed to visit another clan's residence, but we're talking about one of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans here…" she started. You sat quietly as the older woman rattled out fact after fact. You were so focused on self-preservation that neither of you noticed Kazuya slip into the room to take Chiemi away again. "…And not to mention that bounty on the boy's head… Then again, the Gojo Clan is said to live in an impregnable fortress."

No matter how silly or boyish that whim may be, it would be foolish to send her there on her own, Suzuna thought to herself, long and hard before she eventually turned to you.

"I told you before that I tire of making all the decisions here. That's why I'm asking you now— What do you want, Otome? Do you wish to see that boy again?"

But you knew it wasn't just a matter of wanting to see him again— though admittedly, you actually did. So you answer her question truthfully. "I would like to meet him again, if that is all right with you, okaa-sama."

It was a surprisingly wise answer, proof that you still considered her word above your own desires. She beckons you to approach, her hand gently gliding through the hair over your forehead in order to push it upward. "Then I suppose we do as the little god requests."

Yet an epiphany washes over her all of a sudden as she holds you in her arms. Who does that child think he is? Asking for my heir, of all things… "…Or maybe not."

The shoreline was covered with a carpet of freshly fallen snow. It wasn't at all cold, though, as you traversed through the snowscape, your feet sinking deep with every step you took. There was someone walking a few steps ahead of you, a hand reaching out for yours.

"Ngh…" You groaned to yourself as the sunlight of the new day filtered through the shoji leading to the garden just outside your bedroom.

The little god that was Gojo Satoru was in your dreams that same night for some odd reason— he and his hair like snow and starlight and those eyes that seemed to see right through you—

"Hey, are you awake already?"

Huh. He sounds so real here, too… No, I could have sworn I was awake— "Huh?…"

"It's rude to keep your guest waiting, you know."

Wait, what?

You bolted up from your futon, your comfortable sleep cut short by the quiet arrival of the boy that was in your dreams mere moments ago. "Y-You—!"

"Hello, Koganei girl," said the boy who was seated on the tatami right beside your bed. He was very much here and very much present in your bedroom right now. "Good morning! I thought you'd never wake up!"

"Wh-What are you…" You stammered at him, rubbing your eyes until stars appeared and blinking— "You're really here!"

The shoji slid open, with Kazuya storming into your bedroom. It was only then you realised they were in matching white gi, which could only mean— "Satoru! You said you'd train with me first thing in the morning!"

"Whoops! I did say that, didn't I?" Satoru stated before eventually shrugging at the other boy. "But you knew I came here for her first and foremost, Kazuya."

"That's beside the point! I— Oh, good morning, Otome!" Your older brother paused from his declaration when he saw you finally up. "You remember Satoru, right? He'll be staying here for a week."

"That's because your mom didn't allow you to visit me," the silver-haired boy said with a pout. "But I'm here now. Aren't you glad?"

"Huh? Oh, uh…"

"Satoru!"

Kazuya's impatient huffing prompted the other boy to rise from his seat. He moved toward you slightly, as though he wanted to reach for your hand but decided against it. Instead, he beamed at you rather confidently before eventually declaring, "Let's talk later. I'm just gonna wipe the floor with you brother so he'll leave me alone."

"Is that so?" Your brother responded with a laugh as they exited your room, their boisterous, boyish laughter filling the still-quiet halls of the estate. You rose from your futon and opened the shoji leading outside to the garden, where you were greeted by the glare of the morning sun and your family's perennial ginkgo tree.

You weren't brought to the little god's home like he expected. That wouldn't stop him from seeing you again, though. So instead, he came to yours.

The estate became a hive of activity once more after Suzuna agreed to play host to the young heir of the Gojo Clan not long after your very first encounter. It was no surprise that the boy was spoiled rotten by his own family and the Koganei tried its best to keep up with his every wild and wily demand. Fortunately, Satoru did not ask for much apart from time with you.

A lot of time, to be precise.

Satoru agreed to stay over at the Koganei Estate on the condition that he trains with Kazuya every morning and follows his exact same daily routine. Kyouya remarked that he was a surprisingly diligent pupil despite his mischievous overtone.

He had the most attentive eye on you when the two of you shared lunch in the dining hall that day.

"G-Gojo-sama, is something—" You nervously started as you sat across from him. He cut you off as soon as he heard the way you addressed him.

"Satoru," he stated plainly. "That's my name. Don't call me Gojo-sama because it's like you're referring to my father or some other old fart."

The boy sat across from you, happily helping himself to a bowl of piping hot rice and carefully deep-fried golden brown tiger prawn tempura. The yukata he wore now had a pattern of navy blue seigaiha, reminiscent of the tides and waves in your dreams.

"Koganei girl—"

It was your turn to interrupt him. "My name is actually…"

You gave him your name. It embarrassed you how easily it rolled out of his mouth, like he's known it all his life.

"Your hairpin," he said, pointing to your head. "Did you know that it's a tsukumogami?"

"What?"

Your stepfather's gift to you was a delicate glass-blown kanzashi. When you pulled it out of your hair to inspect it more closely, you saw the fine craftsmanship and the intricate azure blue beads and gold trimmings that adorned it. Though you were certain you were holding it carefully, the hairpin fell to the tatami floor, followed by a gentle stream of cursed energy that seemed to emanate from it. It didn't take long for the object to finish its gradual morphing, taking on its human form as the legends say.

A woman in an elegant azure kimono now sat before you, a tender smile on her face as she met your curious gaze. "You're friends with a very shrewd boy, child of Suzaku. Though I suppose nothing can get past those mystic eyes of his."

"O-Oh!"

"You may call me Marin. I have served your family for time immemorial as a guardian spirit of sorts. My presence has been restored for this very purpose: to serve as your protector in times when your family cannot," she stated, prostrating herself before you. "It would be an honour to accompany you on your life's journey, aruji-sama."

"I… I'd like to know this first," you started, trying to hide the quell in your voice. "You called yourself a guardian spirit. I've never heard of you before, though…"

Marin raised her head, the same kind smile on her face even as you questioned her. "That is because I was sealed away, only to be awakened once my master awakens as well. And it has been… three hundred years since I last saw my master, the one who possesses Suzaku."

"Otome is not the same master you served before, tsukumogami. She might possess the same ability as your old master, but she is a different person altogether," Satoru interjected.

"I am well aware of that fact, little godling of the Gojo family," the woman stated. "That is why I wish to accompany her on her life's work— in order for us to have a better understanding of each other, and for me to glean more knowledge about the world at present… If she will have me, of course."

"Of… Of course, Marin-san! I… I would be honoured to have you as well!" You told her, taking her hands in yours. The guardian spirit was evidently touched by your trust. It was pure and child-like, a currency in itself that is absolutely priceless.

"I thank you, aruji-sama. Remember you have only but to call me and I will be there," she replied, lifting your hands to her lips in reverence. "For now, I bid you farewell. I am only an arm's length away from you. Always."

Marin's cursed energy condensed itself once more, housing itself in the elegant hairpin until nary a trace of her human form remained. Satoru lifted it from the tatami and scooted over to your side, pinning it back to your pulled-up hair.

"Thank you…"

"Huh. You're really like the sun," he said. You couldn't help but cock your head in confusion at his statement, earning yourself another one of his boyish grins. "You know that sorcerers like us have different kinds of energies, right? We can see and even sense traces of it… but it's different when you touch. I… don't normally let other people touch me, so I was surprised when I held your hand and saw that instead."

"That?"

"It was said that when you touch someone and you see colours, you're touching that person's very soul."

What? "Really?"

"When I held your hand yesterday… It felt like I was looking at numerous rays of the sun. It was all golden! But my eyes didn't hurt at all."

"Oh…"

He suddenly raised a hand to his nape, a sheepish expression gracing his features. "Did you… see any colours when we held hands?"

"I saw the sea… and snow," you told him truthfully. "Like a splash of blue."

There was a curious twinkle in his eyes when you spoke of the vision from yesterday. He looked… rather pleased with himself.

"I'm glad that's the case!" He stated, his confidence returning as he happily rocked back and forth, not at all making an effort to mask his giddiness. "I'm really glad I came here! Even though I have to spend most of my mornings with Kazuya…"

So he came seeking answers, you thought to yourself. Satoru grew surprisingly warm and comfortable around you afterwards. He remained a diligent student to your stepfather for the rest of his stay as well. He gladly sparred with Kazuya now and even let him win on occasions, though he took no pleasure in going easy on him. Satoru was a prodigious child and Kazuya soon came to realise that even if he mastered Raiden and his inherited Lightning Rod Sorcery, he can never best a little god born perfect.

On the other hand, Satoru wanted nothing to do with your sister, even though she insisted that they started off on the wrong foot.

"That boy is so… enamoured with you, my girl. It's rather strange," Suzuna absentmindedly commented as she permitted you to exit the room through the shoji leading to the garden, where the silver-haired boy spent most of the afternoons waiting for you to conclude your basic studies with your mother and governess, his excitement not at all waning as the days passed.

On his final evening at the Koganei Estate, Satoru slipped past the night patrol and hurriedly made his way to your bedroom, his mischievous, catlike smile glimmering in the dark of the night.

"Shh," the boy with hair like starlight raised an index finger to his lips. "Let me stay here tonight."

And he spoke. Even as the moon hung high in the night sky, he spoke about anything and everything that came to his mind, even though you had no idea what he was talking about. Despite his sheltered existence, Satoru was intelligent and worldly, and he spoke of things you had yet to see outside your gated home, things he wanted you to see with your own eyes, things he wanted to see with you— to experience with you. You.

"Do you want me to come back for you when we're older?" He asked, no longer embarrassed by the yawn that left his mouth. He lied down beside you just outside your futon, your small hands slightly touching.

"Or maybe I'll find you," you replied with a small smile on your face. You were sleepy, but the thought of him leaving tomorrow gave you the strength to fight back the urge to drift off into a dream.

"Fine by me," the boy nodded, a grin on his face that eventually widened into another yawn.

Satoru fell asleep first. The only thing that mattered to you was the fact that he was there— the one who touched your soul and saw sunbeams. Perhaps he was waiting to meet you in the space between dreams and the waking world. When you reached for his hand, a tender wave of calmness washed over you, just enough to lull you to sleep as well.

When morning came, neither of you was bothered by the sound of thundering footsteps through the estate halls, the panicked whispers of "where could he be" being passed around by family members, sorcerers, and servants alike.

It amused Suzuna, who knew exactly where the little god was— unbothered and sound asleep right next to her child, the one who touched his soul and saw the sea and the sky— their tiny fingers warm and intertwined.

~ 2004.

Your life as the young heir of the leadership of the Koganei Clan was composed of many hours of learning and training from your mother and family elders, as well as a series of encounters and misencounters with the different children of the numerous sorcerer clans both major and minor. Many grew to respect you and your presence at gatherings, saying you earned the right to sit at that table with all the hard work you've put into becoming a worthy heir, while others remained ambivalent that a girl would be a clan leader. When you turned fourteen, Lady Suzuna started taking you with her to clan leader gatherings. The invitations to such meetings never ceased and became a part of your life as well, earning you allies and opportunities to continue proving your mettle.

When wintertime rolls in, signifying the start of the new year, the venue for clan leader gatherings is reset, and the representatives of sorcerer families near and far converge to Kyoto— the heartland of jujutsu society— to the fortress-like estate of the esteemed Zenin Clan.

Zenin Naobito inherited leadership of the Zenin Clan from his elder brother in 1999, shocking onlookers that the role was passed down to a sibling and not to offspring. But upon closer examination of their circumstances, it only made sense for the leadership to be passed on to someone who excelled in sorcery and had a knack for politicking.

Naobito's nephews— the rugged and apathetic Jinichi, and Toji— did not fit those qualifications at all. Toji, most especially, since he was known to have been born with no cursed energy at all, making him an anomaly in his own family. He seemed to exist outside the cycle of cursed energy and his senses made up for his lack of it.

Toji has since left the Zenin Clan on his own accord. Whatever is known about him now is considered lore— and most of the time, fiction.

Esteemed as they were in the eyes of everyone in jujutsu society, none of their living family members have inherited their most prized Ten Shadows Technique. Naobito was said to have conceived his youngest son, Naoya, as a final attempt to manifest their family's truest hope of regaining their power from ages ago. Alas, that was not the case at all, for his son inherited a form of sorcery so ghastly similar to his that it felt a bit like mockery.

If it was any consolation, Naoya was exceedingly intelligent and gifted in his own right, perhaps even more talented than his older brothers. Naobito saw in him a strength that reflected his own— and the smarts to go with it. It was too bad his own pride and entitlement spoiled whatever personality he had. His ongoing infatuation with the girl who possessed Suzaku did not help his moral argument, either.

It was never his character to patiently wait, but he did so with you. Naoya tried to mask his elation with anything other than that when he saw you enter the shoin with your mother.

Ah, the strange thing you did to his silly little heart. His uncle Jinichi chuckled at how motionless he stood next to his father. He followed the boy's line of sight and—

"Don't look at her, you dirty old man," Naoya hissed at his uncle. He couldn't blame the older man, though. The way you carried yourself now was even more refined than ever— to think that you could improve even more from that time you put him in his place— and that sprig of gladiolus tucked in your hair…

Naoya imagined himself backing you into a corner, the sheen of your gold kimono dissipating as you fell into the shadows of the more quiet parts of their estate—

"Does your father know you're a horny little shit?" Came his uncle's remark, followed by a low and rumbling chuckle. It was a joke meant to sound like an insult, but the boy's enraged expression only meant that Jinichi was spot on.

You could sense eyes on you from across the grand audience hall, and you were greeted by Naoya with a smile, one you hadn't seen in a long while. He looked surprisingly antsy in his spot beside his father and uncles, turning in your direction every once in a while. The meeting was an exchange of views between leaders and was meant to be boring for the youngsters. All of it will make sense in the future, Suzuna whispered to you earlier.

A recess was called and you took that as an opportunity to stand up and stretch your legs. And perhaps encounter someone…

That someone you had in mind was not Naoya.

He greeted you with the same eloquence and warmth so akin to his father that it felt like you were talking to an older man. "Hello, Otome-san."

"Naoya-sama," you replied to him with a low bow. "It's good to see you again."

"It certainly is. And seein' you here is such a delight because you are definitely a sight for sore eyes," he stated.

"Oh, um… I'm glad to know I brighten up the room if that's what you mean."

Pretty, pretty, pretty— For Naoya, you were so devastatingly pretty that it killed him inside not to have you to himself. He wanted to hold you. "That is entirely true and exactly what I meant. You… Has anyone ever told you that you'd look so nice as a bride? Not now, exactly, but…"

"E-Excuse me?"

"You're fortunate to have a brother capable of handling things in your family in case you must leave in order to marry," Naoya continued with his seemingly half-brained monologue, only for it to be cut short by your sharp interjection.

"I'm sorry, but that's not going to happen at all," you replied to him, correcting his misconception about your presence there today. "I stand here before you as your equal, an heir to a house of sorcery."

You tempered your emotions, keeping them in check in hopes they won't show on your face. However, it got the better of you when Naoya tried to reach for your hand and you suddenly took a step back. He recognised that look on your face as one of horror and disgust.

Disgust, of all things. One single look made him feel entirely pathetic and hurt and his bruised ego wanted to make you feel just as bad.

"I see. So that's how it is. You do know the entire reason why yer family still exists is because of your mother's a sycophant. In case you didn't know what that means, it—"

But you had the same sharp look in your eyes, not at all deterred by the fact he veiled his comment with an insult. "I know what that means, Naoya-sama."

"Everyone in his meeting is aware of what kind of person your mother is, you know. She'd have done everyone a favour by handing over the reins to her husband or her son. It won't be long 'til your family is driven to its own ruin by her own making, and I'll be there when she puts you up for bidding— the heir of a family no better than that of insects—"

Thwack.

It was a strange feeling. You did not punch him in the face with your dominant hand yet he was sent two steps back.

"You—!"

"You called me the bride of a family of insects yet you can't seem to get me out of your mind," you said, the adrenaline pumping through your body as you seized the collar of his dress shirt. "If this is how you intended to win me over, you are pathetically naive."

You pushed him off the engawa and jumped at him while he was down, preventing him from thrashing away from you.

The unearthly shriek that the other youths heard from the outside of the shoin prompted them to rush outside, everyone present surprised by the scuffle that was ensuing between the girl in the golden kimono and the young master of the house.

The boy had a hand in your now-messy hair as you sat atop his finely-clothed figure, driving your fists into his face in a blind rage. You were hardly an image of gracefulness right now but you were too incensed to give a fuck.

"Who the hell do you think you are?! Do you think you can just call my family trash and get away with it?! I'm not just a pretty face like you say I am, you piece of—"

You were quickly pulled away from the dark-haired boy by your fellow young ladies, who struggled to pull you back as you tried to rip away from their hold with nothing but fury boiling your blood. The young Zenin boy got on his feet, seething as he was held back by his clansmen from approaching you again.

"This isn't over, Koganei!"

"Grow a fucking backbone, Zenin!"

The scolding you received when you arrived back home at the Koganei Estate was unlike any other. Princess as you were in the eyes of your clansmen, Suzuna considered your recent actions as inappropriate for a future clan head and had you punished for it. The ripped and dirtied kimono from this morning's incident was taken off of you and cast into a fire despite your protests.

Suzuna was tired. It had been far too long since she last admonished you for something. You were doing so well, after all, following her example and learning from her firsthand. She knew within herself that any corporal punishment she would mete out to you will only embolden you further.

The two of you sat quietly in her den, the very same place where she would often discipline you as a child. She ordered not to be disturbed by anyone in order to fully understand what was running through your head that afternoon when you decided to smack Zenin Naoya in the face.

"I have no words for what I just saw, Otome," she stated. "What… What exactly happened back then? Why on earth did you punch Zenin Naobito's heir, of all people?"

You sat seiza, silent and dignified like she always instructed. Your lip was split open and you could taste salt and dried blood on the tip of your tongue even though you did not open your mouth to speak.

"You don't deserve the prestige that comes with the position if you're going around acting like a wild boar!"

"I know you've said time and again to accept everything thrown at us with grace, but I cannot! I will not… I will defend our family's honour even with my bare hands! I…" You shouted back, fists shaking as you tried desperately to swallow the lump in your throat. You have mastered the art of holding back your tears out of fear of upsetting this woman, your mother— Lady Suzuna, but the rage that made your blood boil spilled carelessly in your words. "Zenin Naoya told me that a family led by a woman will only be driven to its own ruin, that we're only fortunate enough to still be standing because of your own pandering to the elders of jujutsu society! He called the Koganei trash! He— How dare he discredit what you've done for this family!…"

Once again, you amaze your mother with your quick wit, though she expected you to act more wisely. The fact that you were defending your clan's honour was not lost to her, but that mattered little now after the tussle that transpired. "That was nothing to lose your patience over, Otome. I told you that getting upset over trivial things is—"

You looked at her with furrowed brows and disbelief. "It wasn't trivial to me, okaa-sama! He insulted you! To that extent, he's insulted our whole family! Why are you being so nonchalant about this?!"

Suzuna wanted to implode. Seeing your untapped rage finally reach its tipping point forced her to evaluate you as her heir, but more importantly, as a person. Your progress— who you are now— is exactly who she wanted you to be. You had better control of your emotions now, a firmer grasp and understanding of the power of your tears, yet she wished you handled your anger better than just throwing your hands at other people.

And other people happened to be the honoured son of one of the Great Three Sorcerer Clans.

"Because at the end of the day, we small, insignificant clans are powerless against those giant madhouses. They don't like seeing difference, anything out of the ordinary— they most certainly do not like seeing women fighting back. No matter how skilled you grow… Those— Those men can crush us, Otome."

The tremble in Suzuna's voice broke your spirit. Did she not defend this family in her own way? If your self-preservation meant pandering to those above her, she still did so with grace and poise, embodying the beauty and resilience of the ginkgo tree your family takes so much pride in.

She sighed in exhaustion, both physically and mentally. "That brat was obviously infatuated with you. I could tell from the way his eyes followed your every movement. You could have just accepted his compliments…"

You prostrated yourself before her, lowering your head until it touched the tatami. "I'm truly sorry, okaa-sama. I thought I defended our honour but all I did was tarnish it with my rashness. I will accept any punishment doled out to me as you see fit."

"That won't be necessary. You… did what you thought was right. It wasn't, but you believe yourself to be entirely justified. Keep that conviction of yours, Otome. You have that thing you said that brat didn't," Suzuna shook her head in defeat, a small smile gracing her face despite knowing you were in deep shit. "A backbone."

In the morning that followed, as you were having breakfast in the dining hall with your family, a message of apology and a single box of delectable Royce' Nama Chocolates were delivered by a Zenin messenger. You awaited retribution but all you received was a sweet and a sorry.

"Naobito-sama sends his regards— and his apologies for Naoya-sama's poor treatment of the young lady Koganei," said the Zenin messenger as they handed over the box of candy to a Koganei servant. "In line with this, Naoya-sama is inviting the young lady Koganei back to Kyoto—"

"No," you stated plainly.

Suzuna nearly jumped from her spot as you conversed with the messenger at the genkan. "O-Otome! What are you saying?!"

Oddly enough, the more you rebuffed Naoya, the more he seemed desperate to ensnare you.

"If Naoya-sama truly wishes to apologise to me and mend our strained relationship, he will come here to the Koganei Estate in person to see me," you told the confused Zenin messenger. "That is all."

They left in haste carrying nothing but your response to their master's measly excuse of an apology.

Chiemi couldn't believe her eyes. You were never one to make demands of anyone and it annoyed her to see you acting so audaciously. To see you acting just like her mother, fitting into your role as heir like a snug mitten.

"You've grown awfully confident with yourself, onee-sama. Naoya-sama has done nothing but woo you for the last few years and yet you still punched him in the face," she piped in. "I take it he said some awful things about our family, but he was definitely just teasing you. I suppose you think you're above him now—"

"…t up…"

"What?" She asked, her nose crinkling at your inaudible response. "See? That's the thing with women like you. You always forget your place…"

You couldn't bear to listen to her droning until she said something that made your blood boil once more.

"Oh, I know! Why don't I go to Kyoto in your stead? We are sisters, after all, and Naoya-sama might find my company more pleasant than you—"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! For once in your life, shut up, Chiemi!" You screamed at the other girl's face, shaking her shoulders so hard that she dropped to her knees in total shock. All those years of tormenting you and you finally snapped at her. "You can hate me all you want now, but you will thank me eventually! I'd never marry that man even if Suzaku himself commanded me to! And I'm not about to let you waltz into your misery, either!"

Author's notes: — I am once again apologising for this chapter's length. I wanted to keep on expanding and expanding this universe further and accidentally hit 10.2k words. — I think Naoya being a little creepy in the final part of this chapter is pretty on-brand. Don't get me wrong, I love him a lot. I just happened to love Gojo more. We will see more of Naoya in the coming chapters and continue breaking his teeny little heart more. This is a work in progress, one which I am very happy to be writing! This is also my first time actually posting a full fic here, so please let me know if there's anything odd. You can get in touch with me on Twitter or here at Tumblr @SongsOfAdelaide if you wanna drop me a line or something! ~ Mari / SongsOfAdelaide ♡ ♡ tag list: @woozzz

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bokutosmochi · 2 years ago

Text

MEMENTO MORI ♡ ZENIN MAKI

zenin maki x fem!reader

"two orders of ice cream crepe for zenin maki and anon please!"

ingredients? you and maki get sent on a mission to retrieve one of sukuna's fingers in an art gallery

what's it? angst

allergen warnings? talks about canon compliant death and mortality, reader's parents forced her to be a jujutsu sorcerer, talks of reader's parents using her

sugar level? 1.5k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet

parlor's note? ... first wlw fic i wrote and it's about a topic like this :/

bon appetit!

"y'know when i was a kid, i always wanted to be an artist. had a knack for it too." you crossed your legs in the limousine the school provided for you -- the art gallery expected you and maki to be daughters of one of the elites, they knew you two under a different name as well.

the car passed by a green area, filled with trees and other greenery just as maki turned to you. no longer hindered by the leaves and thick branches, the sun shone on your face, covered by a thin layer of makeup, casting you in its golden light and halo. "my teachers would always compliment my drawings, and my classmates would frequently ask me to draw them. i never minded, though i think if it happened a few more times, i'd start to think it was annoying. maybe i would charge them a few yen for it too." you laughed humorlessly.

you didn't have to explain anything anymore. maki and you were close. she aware of your living situation and how it was the opposite of hers -- while she forced her family in becoming a jujutsu sorcerer, enrolling in the school against their desire, your family decided for you. they didn't ask for your opinion and signed you up to tokyo metropolitan jujutsu technical high school without your knowledge, and shipped you off to the heart of japan a week before class started. "you're blessed with such a cursed technique." they tried to excuse their filthy behavior. "it'd be a shame if you didn't utilize it."

you realized why exactly they did what they did during your phone calls after school during your first year - you cut off all connections to them during your second year - they wanted you to surpass gojo. they hated the white haired sorcerer with a passion, they yearned for the wealth and fame your sensei has for being a sorcerer of his level. both your parents wanted to overthrow him and gain the power he has, but they were unable to do so. that was the reason they got together and had you. it was not because they loved each other, not because they wanted a child of their own to take care of, but because they wanted a heir that would be powerful enough to be better than the gojo satoru.

you closed your eyes after that, basking in the warmth, the feeling of the sun kissing your skin, and the classical music ijichi had playing on the radio. neither of the three of you felt the need to fill the space with unnecessary chatter.

"remember not to spend too much time in there. retrieve sukuna's finger then leave as inconspicuously as you can." the older man reminded you when you finally reached your destination. "i'll be waiting here for the both of you, but just in case something happens, you have my number correct?"

you responded in the affirmative, before stretching your legs and leaving the car.

the art gallery was of higher class and the fact was obvious just stepping foot into the establishment. violin and piano music reverberated throughout the entire place, giving it the feel that not every art lover was welcome, they only accommodated those they look at as deserving of their time and effort. the building itself is reminiscent of statues carved from marble back in the earlier days. it in of itself was undoubtedly artwork, detailed, classy, and refined.

an usher appeared by your side as you were taking it all in, voice gentle enough to not disturb you from your admiration of his workplace. "ms. oniishi, ms. takeshita, we have been expecting you." he bowed. his voice hinted at british origins, but he looked japanese, about in his late twenties, clean shaven and was wearing a neatly ironed suit.

you and maki bowed politely to him as well. "i am aware our fathers have already informed you of our private tour?" the woman next to you conversed with him effortlessly. the way she enunciated the word private made it seem like she meant it a different way than what was usual.

"of course, right this way." he led you through pathways decorated with paintings, some you have seen and are familiar with, and some you are not. there were also a healthy amount of sculptures and plants in expensive looking pots.

"i understand you would prefer to not have a guide for today's ventures?"

"yes, that's preferable, thank you." maki nodded at him with finality ringing through her voice and with a final bow, the man left the two of you alone, "well, feel free to stay and marvel at our wonderful collection of arrworks for as long as you would like. please enjoy."

there was a mutual understanding between you and the girl you were with when the man left. you did not need to speak it out loud -- it was time to look for sukuna's finger.

thankfully, there was not a lot of people passing by the exhibits so you were free to look around as you pleased, although you kept the presence of cctv cameras in the back of your mind. the only downside was that maki could only use her vision to look for the cursed object, unlike you who could both look for it, and sense the intense cursed energy it radiated.

at first, you thought that because of that, it may take you a while to discover where the finger lay, but it was a cakewalk. you found it on the floor, discreetly pressed against the wall behind madonna of brudges. you "accidentally" dropped your lipstick, and it landed right next to what you actually needed to retrieve so you gracefully bent down to grab both items, swiftly encasing them safely inside your bag.

"good job," the sorcerer greeted you with a rare genuine smile on her face before looking around the place. "we should probably stay for longer though. we've only been here for.." she checked the dainty gold watch on her wrist "thirty minutes. and this place is huge, it'd be suspicious if we left so early."

you agreed with her and really drank in your environment. you have been experiencing artist's block for the past few months, and as they say, art inspires art. maybe this is just what you needed, and even if it doesn't work, admiring pieces of art never hurt anyone. in fact, in this case, it might be more beneficial.

you took a longer time than maki whenever gazing at the paintings. being an artist, it prompted you to think about things, factors that came into play when the masterpiece was being painted that non-artists did not think of. she understood that, so she just let you be and stood quietly behind you. every so often, she would turn around and lean against the staircase behind you, people watching. after some wordless walking around though, there was a piece of art that struck a chord in you, said chord was too loud, it bounced around your brain like the dvd symbol whenever the dvd player was empty, waiting for the disk to be placed upon it.

"you know, this painting, it really is something." you mumbled quietly, so quietly that maki didn't know whether she was supposed to hear it or if you were just talking to yourself. but then, you answered her unasked question when you turned to her with a small smile. "are you familiar with this painting?"

"can't say that i am."

"it was painted by an artist named paul cezanne back in 1901, if i remember correctly. it belongs to a genre called vanitas paintings which are.." you stopped to try and phrase the words you wanted to say correctly, unconsciously clenching your fists while you were at it. "interesting to say the least."

"they're paintings whose main theme is memento mori; the inevitably of death. just kinda hits different because of our situation as jujutsu sorcerers." you smiled bitterly, no sort of amusement or happiness behind it; appropriate for a topic so bleak.

"the painting's named a pyramid of skulls and many people have their own interpretations of what it means. all of it surrounds death though, of course." your voice trailed down to a hopeless mutter.

no jujutsu sorcerer dies without regret

"gojo-sensei always told me that although we must always work with our fellow sorcerers, we will die alone, but i hope that things don't feel as sad as that. this painting, it kind of reminds me of us." you paused. "at the end of the day, we'll always die for.. almost the same cause."

"it does feel a little depressing, huh?" she hummed to which you just nodded.

no words were needed to be said, the way she held your hand and nudged you to rest your head on her shoulder was enough.

i get: reblog

you get: a painting

#a date with u event #order of the day!#order up for maki!#one match mochi #with a side of lime italian ice #maki zenin angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #maki zenin x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #maki zenin one shot #jujutsu kaisen one shot #maki zenin x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #maki zenin x yn #jujutsu kaisen x yn #maki zenin scenarios #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

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sparklemotiongalaxy · 4 months ago

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Ficlet time!

Based on @erigold13261's Eriverse AU!

Featuring: Peni, Yinu and her mom.

(With mentions of characters from Acoss the Spider-Verse and Jujutsu Kaisen.)

1153 words, and hastily written because I really wanted this idea out of my brain.

Enjoy!

Peni Parker was in a stump. Apparently, Sayu and mer friends had some important meeting with the merch producers. Remi had just dropped her off in the Natura district, saying that "Catherine said she would come soon! Have fun!"

Yes, Peni Parker, 14 years old, was left in the care of Catherine Spinose for the first time after settling in Vinyl City. Which meant Peni probably had to meet with Yinu Spinose. After the Rock Revolution, it was said that Catherine gave her daughter some much-needed personal space. Often times though, kit always saw the mother-child duo together in the media. Catherine, with warm yet seemingly all seeing eyes. Yinu with a slightly haughty and confident gaze. Kit… didn't know what to make of it. Were they together because they really enjoyed it? Or did they stay together, just like how a lithium-ion battery charged too would often lose more and more of its life without another? They made kit feel strange emotions, a swirl of jealousy and contempt. Maybe nya could have been a better daughter. Would she have not left then? Would kit have been that haughty and confident child by kits mother's side then? Kit sighed.

Peni Parker was not a person to be afraid of strangers. Boy, nya really wanted to stay with someone else with nyan. Neon J and 1010 were busy as always, though. Today he said he had some appointments with some major clients, and Margo was helping him out as an intern. Originally kit was to stay at professor Nova's place. But it seemed professor Nova had way too much in his hands with Satoru, Suguru and Shoko being little shits. Peni just heard that professor Nova had almost all of his Mr. Dodo icepops eaten by them, despite the fact that he hid the freezer. Kit decided to decline the offer when kit heard that. Kit didn't even bother with asking Tatiana. And even Bunk Bed Junction and Eve were helping out Miles and his friends do an art project. Gwen looked ecstatic to meet Zuke.

Fae could have just asked faer friends to bring Peni along. And yet…

Holding SP//dr close to kits, Peni decided to wait in the patio in Natura. SP//dr probably felt Peni tense up, and hugged kits back. "Thanks." It would be an understatement to say SP//dr saved kits. Sure Peni had friends like Noir, Margo, Ham and Hobie at first, with more and more friends at Nueva York. But SP//dr… gave Peni hope. Hope that kits powers were not just destroying. Hope that even after accidentally killing kits dad, kit can make something beautiful with it. SP//dr nuzzled close to Peni. Kit should add a purring function to SP//dr, a collar with a mini speaker or a vibration motor? Maybe when-

"Peni?" Kit jolted. There she was. Catherine Spinose, leader of the Natura District. Renowned EDM artist. Mother of Yinu Spinose. She was as tall as Peni heard, with golden yellow eyes. She gazed down at Peni. "It is wonderful meeting you. Let's go, Yinu is waiting for you." Huh. Yinu was interested in kits.

"Hello, Ms. Spinose." Peni stood up, and bowed. Yu told kits that bowing, no matter to whom, was a good idea to look polite. SP//dr followed suit, while being held by Peni.

Surprisingly, Catherine laughed. Not the jealous type of laugh. A genuine, soft laugh. "Please, call me Catherine. Yinu is waiting for us." Peni just nodded, and opened the blue cat backpack (nicknamed "kit-pack" by Hobie) to prompt SP//dr in it.

The walk to Catherine and Yinu's home was brief. "I like your backpack, dear." "… thank you, Ms. Catherine." Silence. Peni felt Catherine's gaze into nyan and SP//dr. "It is rare for Yinu to be interested in others, much less allow for someone to come over with such short notice." "… is that a good thing?" "… for me as a mother, yes." "Oh." "It is nice that she has other people her age around, especially those who are not affiliated with NSR." "I hope I wouldn't let you down." "… you don't smoke like that child made of glass, do you?" "… no?" Peni did not want to know what Shoko did. "Then you won't."

"Here we are." The house, as nya expected, was massive. The cobblestone felt like it was glowing gold under the sun. It had a winding garden with roses of all colors. Even rainbow colored ones. The vines crept up on the wire gates. Peni gingerly held them to take a closer look. "Plant magic. Yinu has been working on honing them for a while." Catherine was right behind SP//dr. Peni felt SP//dr jump inside nyan's kit-pack. "Oh! I startled you, my apologizes." She looked like she stepped on someone's foot. "It's okay, Ms. Catherine. The roses look amazing." Peni quickly smiled back in reassurance.

"Shall we go in? It would be cooler indoors." Catherine pushed the door taller than her. It was then Peni realized Catherine had shrank in size slightly just for kits. Upon entering the door, kit saw the painting hanged on the wall. It had a younger Yinu on Catherine's lap. And someone with golden yellow hair, wearing a red rose suit. They all looked happy. "Rubato would have loved all of you." "Would". Peni willingly decided not to connect the dots in kits head. Small footsteps. "Mama! Is Peni here?"

There she was. The golden maestro of Vinyl City. The child prodigy. Yinu Spinose was running up to her mother and the stranger in a simple shirt and pajama pants. Her smile seemed to be electric, with hands covered in… crayon? Yinu jumped up to hug her mother. "Wait til we wash our hands, dear." Even with the whole house smelling like roses, the soap seemed somehow sweeter.

Catherine did hug Yinu, and decided to retrieve some snacks for the two of them. Peni and Yinu were left in Yinu's playroom. Yinu waved to Peni. "I'm Yinu Spinose. And you're Peni Parker, right? I heard you like cats, so I thought we could draw some cats together!" There were some paper and crayons that suggested that. There were already some cats on the pages. Cute. Peni was confused. The Golden Child of Vinyl City, wanting to play with kits? Despite all the chaos that has happened to Peni Parker in the past few months, this felt more strange than anything combined.

Then. SP//dr jumped out of the kit-pack, and slipped into Yinu's arms. SP//dr never leaves Peni's side. "He likes me!" Yinu giggled. SP//dr gestured towards Yinu's crayon covered hands, and made a rubbing motion with fluffy paws. "Do you… want me to wash my hands so that I can hug you?" SP//dr nodded. Yinu left the door, with SP//dr trailing behind her.

Maybe… Yinu and Catherine Spinose actually wanted to be friends with kits. Maybe they won't leave Peni behind, and kit could have fun.

#Kira Writes #eriverse #across the spiderverse #no straight roads #peni parker #sp//dr #nsr yinu #nsr mama #ask to tag #crossover #crossover AU

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2 - Bumblebee

Character Stats - Hasashi Kisara Power: 7 Intelligence: 11 Spiritual power: 15 Dexterity: 8

Kisara looked in the mirror and fixed her outfit, humming to herself whatever melody came shuffled on her playlist. She always enjoyed listening to jazz and blues before going out, and it gave her the much needed boost of confidence to get her through this mess. She kept brushing her hair idly, watching the sparkles from the multiple layers of the golden chain necklace that fell so beautifully over the chest of her black turtleneck, with the light green stones emanating elegance and highlighting the gems of her own eyes. Though she wore long sleeves, she couldn't not add a black and gold feminine watch, and on the same wrist, a few soft and thin bracelets of the same palette. Her fingers, long and slender like those of a pianist, were adorned with a few chick golden rings also. She loved jewellery and how graceful it made her look. It was her mother, the one who shared this love with her, but it was her grandpa, the one loving to spoil his little Princess, the same as he always did with her grandma and mum. Her and her grandpa had a very special bond together, and especially when growing up, she would do anything to spend more time with him than anyone else.

At least these fond childhood memories, she remembers - There was nothing more important to her than her love for her family and the teachings she was given. She was a very happy child - She'd hate to forget all those beautiful times. The trip down the memory lane was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, and Kisara hoped off the bed and waltzed to open the door for the detective. "Oh, lookie here, the friendly policeman has arrived. Would you care for a coffee, or would you like to depart on our marvelous journey across the unicorn land?" Mashita was almost astounded by the way she was able to say something so completely outlandish with a straight face. "Coffee sounds fine." with an almost theatrical move, Kisara invited the man over, guiding him to the living room. "Let me guess... Espresso or Americano?" "Are you trying to steal my detective job, Miss Kisara?" the man asked from the couch, an aloof smile on his face. "Might as well." she shrugged nonchalantly. Mashita asked for an Espresso, and watch the woman leave for the kitchen.

He didn't mind the rumbling of the coffee machine grinding the whole beans, and he certainly loved the soothing aroma it had, softly mixing with the vanilla scent from the burning incense sticks, and the soft, thin ropes of fumes that gracefully danced to the discreet sound of soul music. Miss Kisara had great tastes, he realised, and very elegant and expensive, based on the furniture and decorations throughout this chamber. The only out of place object left on display, though in no way less regal than everything else, was a mannequin stand garbed in a traditional samurai armor, and a katana at its base. They looked authentic and incredibly expensive. How rich could a 25 year old be? Did she come from a well-off family of medics, hence why she chose to pursue such a career? Though, he recalled Veterinarians don't really make as much money as human doctors do, so he couldn't tell.

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman coming over with a small tray with fine china that put Mashita's own to great shame. The cups were black, with sparkling gold embleming it with elegant swirls. "I painted them." he heard her speaking - Was he staring so intently? "Yes, you were staring." could she read minds now? "Yes, I can read minds. I'm an Esper." Satoru chuckled lightly - This woman spared no steps to intrigue him. "Professional defect." she nodded curtly as she sat down opposite of him.

"So." she spoke, picking up the coffee cup that gave off a slight tint of sweet caramel. "Tell me about this ghost." "He is called Shimi-O by the people, because he is covered in black splotches. Based on the rumours, he asks everyone he encounters in the forest if they like bees." the more he spoke, the more skeptical the woman before him looked. "No matter what you answer, he supposedly kills them with a drill." "That's it?" Kisara asked in surprise. "That's all you've got?" the man nodded. "We are so dead." she sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. "If we want to exorcise a spirit, we must know something more personal about it. Speaking of - Do we purify or destroy?" Satoru furrowed his brows. "How do you know that? You seemed averse to ghosts earlier." she simply offered a growing, enigmatic smile. She wasn't going to answer. What a vixen. "We are purifying them, I guess. As for more information - That's what we're going to do. Investigation requires legwork. We're going to find some evidence." the woman nodded silently, placing the cup down as she finished her drink.

"Are we going to pick your friend up, or we're going directly to the forest?" she asked, getting up and snatching something from a drawer.

"He's going with another victim. We're supposed to meet at the entrance." Kisara nodded towards him to come along.

"I hope you're good with directions because I am orientationally challenged." with an amused smile, she dangled the keys around one of her fingers and guided the man to the garage, revealing a gorgeous, sparkling clean, black Subaru with golden rim wheels. He found himself whistling at the beauty.

"Expensive yet very elegant tastes, Miss Kisara. Are you married rich?" he asked, sitting on the leather seat. "Very clean and well kept. Impressive." "Would I have shamelessly flirted with you the whole day if I was married?" she asked, unbothered by the comment.

"I dare not assume." he let out an amused exhale.

"Let's just say... I come from a rather prestigious family, but we prefer to keep to ourselves. And no, we're not Yakuza, though I suppose I wouldn't have minded that much. Alas, I fear the positive influence of the Yakuza is rapidly going to be obliterated by the greedy and corrupt Government at this rate. Shame, really. Business wouldn't be what it is now without them." she hummed, starting the car and driving down the empty streets, just fast enough not to go too much over the limit, yet smooth enough that Mashita almost felt like falling asleep. The soothing music from the radio - No doubt, a personal CD with a blues mix - Wasn't helping the relaxation either.

"I find your approach to be very attractive, Miss Kisara." he leaned his elbow on the door of the car, stealing a side glance towards her. "I've always found this bold honesty and forwardness to be a rare but intriguing quality in a woman." Kisara found herself smirking. "I saw you staring at the samurai display earlier." she noted. "It is my armor. And my sword too, by default." she explained. "My grandpa was an important was general in the war, and I've always been fascinated with him and his stories. He tried to teach my uncle to be like him, alas, he was of a softer nature like his mother. Needless to say, I'm his his favourite grandchild. Won lots of kendo competitions as a child." Satoru noticed her glowing with bliss as she spoke of her family. "I suppose you could say that I bid my grandpa's traditional teachings... For both genders." she chuckled.

Mashita nodded briefly. "I can see that." he said. "You don't seem the fighting type. Impressive." "You should see my martial arts, then." she retorted absent-minded.

"You should see mine." Kisara stole a quick glance, hilarity painted on her smile.

"Impress me, detective. Grapple a ghost." the man seemed bemused.

"If only that I could."

They soon arrived at the park entrance. The man called Yashiki, and another, looking younger than even herself, but with a meaner look, were already there, waiting for them. The archway under which they stood was marking the start of a hiking trail. It was rusted over, and with the peeling paint, it doesn't seem to have been touched up. Kisara loved to hike and camp in the mountains. This was going to be fun. She introduced herself to the other two. She looked up at the archway again - The letters have faded and are mostly illegible. She shuddered and fixed the trench coat lazily hanging around her shoulders, frowning slightly. Mashita followed her gaze, lighting up the plate.

'Welcome to the lush and romantic wood timberland'

"Murder, huh? Such a welcoming message." Kisara sarcastically mused. "Tsk. Coincidence, that's all! It's just cuz it's way old and faded!" the new boy, Shou, snarled, sweating with nervousness. "Sure. Do continue attempting to delude yourself with your false narrative." she nodded her head dismissively, walking on ahead towards the trail.

They walked ahead for a while, only to unexpectedly stumble upon a grave marker, supposedly put there to honour those who committed suicide there. Yashiki seemed to mutter a quick prayer in their honour, but Kisara knelt down to read what was written on the marker. "Say the opposite of the truth. You'll be followed... Or so it says." Shou scowls to cover how his face is deathly pale. He didn't appreciate the woman's amusement at this ominous message. "And so our ghost adventure begins." Mashita smirked, watching the unbothered visage of the woman. She looked completely composed, which only proved the story from earlier to be true, in his opinion. Shou found another trail - A beast trail - And went on ahead. The moonlight doesn't reach the trail that branches off the hiking trail, so they were in gloom. The trees are thick on both sides, they'd get lost, were it not for having two flashlights. A pair of footsteps nearby alerted the group, and they were getting closer. They stood on high alert, looking around to see where they were coming from. From the thicket appeared a man around his 40s, looking pale and horribly exhausted. He seemed to be one who wished to end his life. Overworking himself to a job he hates, his wife cheats on him. The man's head falls in his hands, and he starts kicking and yelling at a poor tree, cursing and growling animalistic. Kisara instinctively took a step back - His kind went absolutely feral when upset, and she didn't want to be anywhere near his line of sight when he went crazy.

'Stop him... Death invites death...' Kisara felt a foreign voice in her head, creeping her out. No - Why should she bother with this dead beat? Why risk her life for someone who's already given up? "If you've got something to say, just spit it out, bastard!" he snarled at Yashiki, who seemed taken aback. "Oh... Do you feel the same way?" he asked, completely misinterpreting his silence. "Of course you do. You're here in this forest, after all." it took all self composure Kisara had not to lash out and knock him out with a well aimed jab. Far easier than trying to reason with the unreasonable. "What... Did she think I was doing? Worked myself sick, but stuck with it anyway, and for who's sake...? I even bought her a purse on our anniversary last year. Damn it... Damn it! Then she goes and sees another man!" the man curses the darkness. He's completely lost it. "Hey, you there - Was it me? What'd you think? Clear this up for me. Did I do something wrong?" "Someone's here!" Yashiki interjected, making the livid man dart his eyes around with fear. "C-Could it be that creepy guy?!" he checks around with full alert. Satisfied that no one's there, he resumes speaking. "I'm sure she'd just laugh if she heard I was dead. Hanging off her asshole lover." he sighed. "But when I think about it... You know, it's strange? Why do I have to make her happy when it causes me so much pain? It's ridiculous! I'm done with it! No way am I gonna die for an idiot like that. That's right. I'm sure we can still... We can still start off fresh, right?" Yashiki should be paid for becoming this man's therapist. "I don't know what you've been through, but you should rethink it. Honestly though, you look like you'll be fine."

Suddenly, the crazy man calmed down, and he told them about this creepy man with big, black splotches. No doubt, their ghost, it seemed. "Gah, what a pain in the ass. Guys like that should just hurry up and die." Kisara nodded. "If you are weak enough to blame a woman cheating on you for your death-wish, then by all means, this is natural selection. Glad he left already. Men like him are far more scary than any ghost." she sneered, bringing her coat closer to her body and walking ahead of the group.

Soon, they arrived at a small, wooden cabin. Yashiki goes to open it, only to get his hand coated with a sticky liquid, sweet, like honey. Why would there be honey on a doorknob though? Still, they entered the unusually clean cabin. "It's too clean." Satoru grumbled, freaking the boy out. He watched the woman robotically stepping in front of a sack. "Kisara?" he called out her name, only to see her drop the sack off the wall and revealing its contents. A woman, wearing only an open white shirt, was soaked in honey-like contents... And penetrated in multiple areas of her body, no doubt by the rumoured drill.

Shou was the only one who shrieked at the sight of the body. A thick, sweet scent fills the air, strong enough to make you want to cough. "We have to get out of here as soon as possible." Yashiki spoke breathlessly. "We have to find compelling evidence first, in case you've forgotten." Mashita snarked back. "Wh-What about h-her?!" Shou gulped, trembling like a leaf. Kisara was crouched besides the woman's body, seemingly unbothered by the pungent odor. She's smelled far worse things with her profession. "Want to know a hot party trick?" she asked, looking up at the two adults. "I can tell you exactly how she died, if I touch her." "T-Touch her?! Are you crazy?" Shou's comment was completely ignored. "How can you do that?" Yashiki asked. "Your detective friend misinterpreted my aversion towards ghosts." she had a bitter smile on her face. "It wasn't that I didn't believe ghosts exist. It is that I know they exist that I hate it. My grandma has a spiritual gift that got sent down to my mum, and in turn, to me. That gift is exactly what I said. I touch dead things or objects with strong attachments to anything dead, and I get to recount a brief fragment of their memories." she explained, hopping up to her feet and taking her coat off, handing it over to Mashita. "Go ahead and investigate the cabin while I do my magic trick." "Is there anything you can't do, Miss Wonder?" the detective asked, and the girl seemed to ponder for a few seconds. "I... Can't cook to save my life. And I get lost very easily. I'm sure I can find many thing I can't do. Can you?" with a teasing smile, the red head sat on the floor and took a deep breath. This was going to suck.

Carefully, she reached her hand to touch the corpse's thigh, slightly irked by the honey sticking to her fingers. A flash of lightning seemed to electrocute her as she shivered, and instead of being Hasashi Kisara, she was now this woman, aimlessly strolling through the forest with a rope in her hand. Yet another one who wished to end her life, it seemed. Heavy footsteps alerted her to look in their direction, and she found the inhumanly large and tall silhouette of the rumoured creepy man with black splotches all over his body. Kisara's mind was on flames, and she wanted to run away, but she couldn't.

The ghost asked her if she liked bees, and a voice that wasn't her own answered that yes, she did like bees, because she liked flowers. A wickedly deranged laugh resonated through the forest, as a large drill was exposed by the monster, as he told her he'll be raising bees inside her body. The woman must have been too frozen in shock and fear to run away, though the spirit did not care, and he drilled down her thigh, a swarm of not bees, but huge hornets coming out of nowhere and stinging her. With a tormented shriek of agony, Kisara found herself back in her body, having fallen back on the wooden floor. It took a few deep breaths and a few silent curses for her to compose herself and reach out in her pocket for a handkerchief to get rid of the honey from her hand. "Wh-Why did you scream like that?" Shou asked, freaked out at the unexpected incident. "Having a drill shoved in your tie and a swarm of hornets stinging you to death isn't exactly the gentle death that she wished for... Nor did I wish to experience it for myself." she scratched the back of her neck. "The rumours you told me about Shimi-O were true, Satoru. We must thread cautiously." "If this is your party trick, I don't want it." he scoffed, putting her coat back over her shoulders. "Trust me, I don't either." she bitterly spoke, leaning on one of the desks. "Did you guys find any useful information?" "Some bottles of Nite Nite, which is some kind of drug, a tool box that we can't open, some notebooks that talk about bees, hives and stuff like that." Yashiki spoke, earning a nod. "We should put the body back in the bag. Help me out Yashiki." Mashita gestured, and his partner did as asked. "Let's leave for now." they all seemed in agreement, and went down the path they came from.

As they continued through the dense forest, a pained cry suddenly echoed among the trees, sending shivers down their spines. Still, they moved forward, with only Kisara and possibly Yashiki spotting the odd ghostly figures hiding around the thicket.

They found another grave mark, written in Sanskrit, and Shou noticed yet another beast trail. He tried to go ahead, only to spot something and stumble, falling backwards onto the ground. Something was grabbing onto his ankles, its expression anguished. It was trying to communicate, but it was so difficult to decipher. "Are you **feless, too...?" the ghost asked. "What did it say?" Yashiki frowned. "Say the opposite of the truth." Kisara whispered to them. "I am lifeless, yes." she replied to the ghost. He looked sad and lonely. "*ight... Only the **ad are her*." another voiced chimed in, this time, closer to Satoru. "A-A-Am *... *ead...? * don't be**eve *t... I don't und*rstan*... *m *... Tell *e!" it asked. "No, you aren't dead." he caught on quickly. "N-No way... I still have to s*ffer..." it had a pitiful expression on its face. There came another voice, closer to Kisara this time. "****one...! Pl**se listen! I *an* to **ve! I *an* to **ve! I *an* to **ve! I...! I'm **ive!" "Yes, you are very much alive." if only she had a mirror to show them how alive they were. The voice sounds like it passed through her, and is sucked into the ground. They were safe now. "Sheesh, what an eventful night." "G-God... N-No... No way... I-I saw it! I saw it, and it was so clear!" Yashiki put his hand on the boy's shoulder, hoping to relax his violent trembling. "It's alright now, it's gone." he said. Shou nodded, taking a deep breath. "You guys are pretty awesome." he admitted, as they went on ahead down the new beast trail. At a dead end, they noticed a wooden box on the ground, probably having contained a bee hive at some point. Thankfully, no bees. When opened, a crowbar was revealed. "Think we can open that tool box with this?" Yashiki asked as Shou quickly snatched the crowbar. "Worth a try." Mashita nodded.

Doing just as they said once they returned to the eerie cabin, they were able to open the metal tool box, retrieving a Sprayer, so now they could use the drugs they head. As if on cue, another foreign voice seemed to make its way into Yashiki's and Kisara's head. 'Manipulators will themselves be manipulated.' the voice preached. It was completely useless and added no value to the investigation. What a drag, the girl thought. She was fine with no spiritual activity for so long, she didn't need anything of the sort now either.

Returning towards another trail, she encountered a hive filled with angry bees. Using the Nite Nite sleeping medicine, Yashiki sprayed the drug, silencing the hive, allowing them to go forward, where they heard the soft sound of... A black bunny? It looked fixedly at them, then ran down a trail, as if it wanted them to follow. Yashiki was the first one to run, followed by the others, until they reached an old Shinto torii gate. The rabbit disappeared. A buzzing noise alarmed them, and out of the darkness, a huge swarm of bees descended on them. No, for goodness sake, those weren't cute, fluffy, adorable bees - These were the spawn of Satan! These were wasps! Huge, angry hornets!

Shou let out a small scream and dug his finger on Yashiki's and Kisara's arms, dragging them back to the crosswords, taking another route, which lead to yet another cabin. This door didn't have honey stuck to it, at least, though it was locked. Without thinking much, Yashiki took out the crowbar and tried to break the lock, to no avail. He even tried throwing his body weight onto it, two-three times, but nothing.

Mashita snatched the crowbar from his grasp and did the same thing. Though the door did open, the crowbar snapped in half, and they had only its remains to hang onto. "Too much force, old man." Shou sniggered. "At least the lock got busted, too." Satoru rose his eyebrow at him. "Old?" he inquired, though he didn't wait for an answer and entered the cabin - Or tried to. The door was such a mess, they could barely open it. When the gap was large enough, Kisara's slender body slipped inside. "It's weirdly dark here." she noted, only to stumble into something hard enough that its force made her fall to the ground.

A new voice, a woman's, called out from the darkness. "S-Stop... Don't come any closer!" her voice was vibrating with fear. "I-I-If you come any closer, I... I'll sue!" Kisara burst into fits of laughter, completely uncharacteristic to her personality presentation from earlier. "Go ahead, I'm sure I have good lawyers in my family." The woman backed up defensively into the wall. "I-I'm a black belt in taekwondo!" she cried out.

"A martial artist doesn't stutter in the face of dancer, miss." Kisara smiled. "I'd know. I'm an Aikido girl - And you wouldn't raise your leg in front of men when you're wearing a skirt." she teased the trembling woman.

"D-Don't come any closer! I-If you do, I-I--" she stuttered so pitifully, but the boy had no patience.

"SHUT UP, OLD LADY!" he yelled at her.

"O-Old...?" at his roar, the woman shrieks and falls silent, eyes wide.

"Very charming, dumbass. Is that how you try to pick up girls too? Oh, no, let me guess - You've never had a girlfriend in your life, have you? With this attitude, you never will either." Kisara's venomous tone made the young man glare at her, though he didn't say much, except for incoherent grumbling. "Forgive him, miss. Delinquents aren't known for their diplomatic behaviour. I'm Hasashi Kisara, a Veterinarian medic. We mean you no harm." Seeing another woman who so calmly introduced herself, she took a deep breath and composed herself. "Forgive me, I lost composure. I'm Christie Arimura, freelance news anchor, though I haven't done much recently." "Wait, I've seen you! You're that woman that was in the news. Wow it's really true. Celebrities are more beautiful in person." Shou fawned over her.

"Cut that out... This isn't the time for flattery." contrary to her words, she looked to be eating up the compliments.

"So, what are you doing here? Odd place to be hanging around, all by yourself." Kisara asked the woman, whose expression clouded as she looked away.

"Isn't it obvious?" Shou asked - But Kisara didn't want to believe that someone like her could be so brainless.

"I was going to die." she admitted. "Yes, I know full well just how stupid that is - But sometimes that's the only choice you have left!" "Oh yeah, I heard something about you fooling around with another celebrity." Shou remarked, a smug expression on his face.

"That's why I came here, so I wouldn't cause trouble for anyone." she explained. "At the very end, I thought about calling someone, but couldn't, so... So I made up my mind." Christie frowned, seemingly scared. "B-But then, in the forest... A huge man... An extremely huge man. N-No, actually, I'm not ever sure if he was really human or not, but I saw a figure like that, and I suddenly got scared, so I hid in this cottage. I'm here to kill myself and I just run from danger. I'm a riot." she's seen Shimi-O, which only meant that she, too, has the Mark. She showed her palm.

"I see. Don't worry, Christie, hang in there for a day or two. We will get rid of the ghost, and you'll have this cabin all yours to kill yourself!" Christie remarked that Kisara's overly-exaggerated smile made it clear that she was disgusted with her weakness.

"No, please, help me! I'm not going to kill myself anymore, I promise! I swear! So, please! I'm terrified of him!" she begged the group.

"There are people out there, younger than you, who would do anything to be allowed to live up to your age - But they couldn't, because life sucks. And here you are, an intelligent, beautiful, famous, wealthy woman, who has EVERYTHING she could ask for - And she wants to throw it all away, because of a slight inconvenience. You disgust me, Christie." the anchor woman seemed frozen from the jabbing words thrown her way.

"And what do you want me to say?! There are many people out there who realise how much they want to live, when faced with mortal danger, o-or a failed suicide attempt! I'm the same!" she refuted her position.

"You should count your blessings, Christie. If the time ever comes, I would use you as a meat shield." Kisara's threat creeped her out. "I'm 25 right now. Fresh out of med school. I've got a good life. And... I had this good friend of mine, we... We've been friends for nine years. She was kind of... One of my best friends, actually. Very sweet and gentle girl. And super smart too. Wanted to become a surgeon. She had the brains and dexterity for it too." the red haired woman stepped ominously towards Christie, making her stumble backwards, nervous. "It was a Monday morning of November, two years ago when we were still 23 years old, and I had gotten to my usual routine of buying myself a large caramel latte to drink while at courses, and I suddenly get contacted by my friend's younger sister that she found her dead one night." Kisara chuckled dryly. "To this day, I cannot imagine what a 19 year old could feel, finding her sister's dead body in bed when returning home." she clicked her tongue. "I went to her funeral. Sat on the back of the flower car and threw flowers on the ground for two kilometers, so the mortuary card would step over them while going to church. It such an awful, awful day." she continued. "So... You're telling me... This girl who had all hopes and dreams and life ahead of her, who worked so hard her whole life and neglected her social life, because of how dedicated she was for her career path... Mysteriously died, as the cause of death wasn't found at the autopsy... But you, who has it all, just selfishly chose to throw it away? Really? How pathetic can you be, Christie?" she let out another empty chuckle. "You don't even know what you want. If you think life is such a game, then you should just drop dead already and stop bothering us." the intensity of her green eyes, peering into her frightened almond coloured ones, so intimidated and shamed by a woman so much younger than her... The humiliation hurt and stung more than the idea of dying to the ghost. "Alright, alright, enough life lessons. If Christie wants to join the group, there's not much we can do anyway. We should return back to the base a--" Yashiki spoke, only for his flashlight to shut down, followed by Satoru's. "Stop messing with the flashlight, old man!" Shou reproached them. "I hate to inform you of this, but the ghost is onto us." Kisara bit her lip hard, feeling the ominous presence of imminent death come and wash her in waves. A noise from behind the cottage alerted them all. "I hope you've got your track shoes on, we've got to make a run for the cars." her wry smile freaked Shou and Christie. "Are you insane?!" the boy screamed at her. "Staying here would be suicide, and as Miss Kisara said, she's not exactly fond of that." Mashita joked dryly. "I hope your orientation skills are better than mine." the woman let out a breathless comment, taking ahold of his hand. "Your friendly policeman is here to save the day." he teasingly referred to her greeting of him. "Y-You're seriously going? Are you mad?!" Christie gasped in disbelief. "Listen, lady, nobody is obliged to beg you to live, if that's what you're seeking. We're out of time and we're leaving. Do what you want." Satoru snarked her impatiently. He couldn't stand women like her who were attention-seekers and liked their weakness glorified.

Without flashlights to guide their way through the labyrinthine forest, their task ahead only got tenfold more difficult. Still, the detective informed them they should do no detours to confuse the ghost if they're chased, as it would only disadvantage them.

They didn't run, though their pace was rushed - They still needed to pay attention to their environment, and rapid footsteps storming through the thicket would only hinder their senses, whilst also alerting the enemy of their presence. Soon, they reached a fork. Christie whined as she loudly protested of her lack of direction skills, only to yell all of a sudden, freaking Shou out and making him reproach her. That behaviour could cost them their stealth. "Shush, keep quiet! Something's coming, we need to get moving already!" Kisara whisper-yelled at them, only to be pulled to the right, walk past the sleeping bee hives, and cut through the bushes, arriving at another fork. It was Shou who proclaimed the road South, though Yashiki told everyone to keep quiet and hide. A loud noise, like that of something passing through the bushes, was heard. The ghost really was following them, so they had to keep going. Thankfully, they reached the arch, so they should be safe. But Kisara doesn't move - Instead, she unconsciously lets go of Satoru's hand and takes a few steps towards the arch. "Hey, uhm... I think our little bee friend found us." she gulped, and everyone snapped their gazed towards the tables.

Shimi-O, the ghost of a huge, misshapen man with bees crawling all over his face was standing there... Laughing. Next to him, slumped on the bench with his neck crooked at a perfect 90 degrees angle was the man from earlier, a beer can in his limp hand. Kisara didn't care about whatever words the voice in her head was saying, the scene disgusting to watch. Yashiki fell to the ground, only for Mashita to help him up. Christie, who had been petrified, was being dragged by Shou. But when Mashita went to the red head to get her to the car, an uneasy expression terrified his face, similar to her own. "Satoru." she said. "Where... Is that thing...?" "He's gone." he gritted his teeth, making Yashiki exclaim in shock at what he was hearing. "I took my eyes off him for TWO seconds, and he's not by the bench anymore. He disappea--" but he was interrupted by the deafeningly loud sound of a drill, and as the machine growled horrifying, the undergrowth underneath rustled. Kisara let out a startled squeak, finding herself jumping and grabbing the detective, who had a strong grip on her, while the others shrieked in sheer fear and torment. "HOW THE HELL DID HE GET HERE?!" Shou screamed. "RUN!" Mashita yelled, scrambling away and pulling the woman with him. A hollow bang resounded loudly - Kisara knew that sound too well, a gunshot. She needn't see the confirmation in the policeman's hand.

Yashiki dove head first into his car, slamming his head accidentally into the steering wheel, Shou and Christie stumble in the back seat, huddling together, while Kisara gets in her own car, starting the engine, with Mashita tumbling into the passenger's seat last. "I can't believe you brought a gun to an exorcism!" she weakly chuckled, hitting the pedal, but the car won't start. "What are you waiting for, hit the gas already!" he yelled, his grip on the gun tight. "I'm trying! The engine won't start!" she stole a quick glance in the windshield, seeing Shimi-O approaching their car, as Yashiki's was able to get started. "If that thing dares touch my precious baby, I'll tear it to shreds." Kisara keeps slamming the pedal and activating the ignition - Something bumps the hood of the car, making the whole vehicle rock violently. "That's it, I'm done. Gimme that." recklessly, the woman snatched Mashita's gun and opened the window, leaning out of the car, but not before grabbing a small paper talisman from the portier and jamming it inside the gun. "Good night, America." she shot twice at the ghost, angering it enough to let go of her car, and once he did, she let the gun fall in her lap and activate the engine again. This time it worked, and the sound of tires squealing on the street only made them feel relief.

"What did you do?" he asked, after taking a few deep breaths. "I stuffed it with a talisman." she explains, gripping the stirring wheel with all her might. "How'd you know it would work?" the girl gave a wry smile. "You... Didn't." she nodded. "You have experience with guns, don't you?" she nodded again. "Gun possession gets you three years penal labour, and shooting a single bullet would get you more than three years, if not a life sentence." the girl chuckled weakly. "I'd get one to ten years myself just for handing it to you. Or, I suppose, the correct terminology would be that you stole it for me, so more years added." "Do you want to restrain me, officer? Do you have pretty cuffs for that? I can't wear such gaudy cuffs like what you see in movies though - I have very pretty, slender and sensitive wrists. Heavens forbid they come to harm. Satin is better." Mashita found himself chuckling at her shamelessness, though he knew such a frightening experience wasn't helping and she was talking the fear away. "Alright then, just tell me the colour you'd like and I'll get it." the atmosphere lightened and she, too, started humming. "Verdant green, like my eyes." she stated. "I have this curiosity, if you don't mind the question, though it might be too personal, so if you don't wish to answer, it's fine." he nodded at her to go on. "Why did you willingly get the Mark a second time?" "Who said I did it willingly?" the girl rose her eyebrow at him, showing that she wasn't fooled. "I had a friend too, five years ago." he smiled bitterly at her. "He was also my mentor, but he was the exact opposite of your own friend. I picked up drinking and smoking from him. Not quite the influence for a young policeman, huh?" "Sounds like you had fun though." she shrugged her shoulders. "But if you want to kiss me, make sure you grab a mint." "You're shameless." he chuckled. "Noted." he nodded, absent-minded. "My friend died five years ago, while investigating a cult. The Honey Bee Family cult." "Honey Bee Family? Wasn't that name written on those notebooks?" she asked, frowning. "Yep." he clicked his tongue. "I want to find out what really happened. I want the closure." he explained. "Even if I was to uncover this mess, I no longer work as law enforcement. I got fired." he spat sardonically. "What happened?" she asked softly. "Sexual harassment." he scoffed. "I know a pervert when I see one. You're not one. You got too close to the truth and they silenced you." she heard the man humming, and the music suddenly turned on. "I met Yashiki on the previous case. I was investigating a string of disappearances at an elementary school, and I found out about the principal's crimes. I continued investigating even after I was discharged, but I got cursed by a child ghost. Yashiki got rid of it, and my Mark disappeared. I hung around for a little while after - And I heard about this Shimi-O thing, figured it was the perfect time to get my investigation going." he explained. "I see." she mumbled. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Well - There's not much to fear, we can get rid of that monster too." she said leisurely. "So - I understand why you have the Mark still - But why Yashiki too?" "Hanahiko wasn't the one who gave him the Mark. Hopefully, it was Shimi-O, so he gets rid of it already." Hasashi nodded her head in understanding. "So have you done anything like this before? You seemed to me weirdly knowledgeable." he asked, diverting the conversation from himself.

"Not, uh... Not exactly. Not like this. I told you about my grandparents before. Grandpa was a Shinto believer, and often went by the shrine in Kamakura. That's where he met my grandma, the Guuji and heiress of the Minamoto shrine. I used to train as a Priestess when I was little. The truth is, most of my childhood I spent with my mum's parents. My parents were pretty busy with work and they traveled a lot, so they didn't have much time for me. My grandma is the one with this... Uh... Gift? Curse? I don't know what to call it. I used to see ghosts all the time when I was little. It was... Pretty scary. I had to learn to keep this power at bay, but I remained spiritually sensitive. I wasn't sure if this... Thing... Would be affected by the same things as the spirits I learnt to exorcise - And it isn't. Not really. It's something more powerful, born out of sheer malevolence and a very strong emotion." they were getting close to the Kujo mansion, as Satoru informed. He looked at the woman driving, and tried to think the information over. And it was interesting - The more he knew about her, the less he actually did. What an enigma. She was interesting when speaking, and just as interesting when she was silent and analysing everything going about her. "I think it's a pretty useful gift now." he had a half smile on his face. "What about possessing? Like in movies?" Kisara frowned, shuddering a bit. "I-I don't... I don't wish that on anyone." her voice felt delicate, frail. "I almost slashed my grandpa to pieces with the katana... And then ran in front of a truck. And I didn't wake up in a week." "Huh. I didn't think that was actually possible. Sounds messy." she nodded in agreement. "Go left here, then pull over. We've arrived."

She did as instructed and followed everyone else inside a mansion, where they were led to a... Talking doll. A very beautiful talking doll that gave Kisara the creeps with the eerie, ominous vibe that it gave off. Nobody seemed to pick up on it though. Hopefully, she was wrong. Yashiki introduces her and Christie to Mary the doll and tells her the situation of the case. Christie and Shou seemed completely hopeless about the idea of fighting the ghost, leaving Yashiki speechless and Mashita annoyed. "We have to leave it to the police." Kisara's laugh boomed for a split second. "Woman, you're a news anchor. You seriously believe we can go to the police station and tell them we're haunted and that a ghost will kill us? There's this thing called - A mental asylum - We'll have seats with our names engraved in it." "Go and make a suicide pact with that naive thinking, but leave me out of it." Mashita snapped at Arimura. "Wh-What?! H-How dare you..." Christie was offended, but they didn't care. "Yo, boss. All that high and mighty talk - You've got something, then?" Shou asked. "How the hell would I know that?" Mashita growled. "But I'm willing to risk my life to find one!" his shout is hoarse. He's probably unease. Kisara put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it for him to calm down. Christie shivers, while Shou just glares at the detective. "You and Yashiki lived once. You are our best bet to the next exorcism. We need to return to that place and gather more evidence. That's the only way to perform the ritual and eliminate that ghost." no one answered Kisara's statement, and an awkward silence fell again. "Miss Hasashi is right, we've got to return to the forest and investigate." Yashiki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maybe we can find some... Some clue."

"In that case... Why don't we investigate the bee farm that's north of H Shrine? My reports say several people have seen Shimi-O there. Hardly anyone ever goes there now, with the weird events in the forest." for once, Christie's words bore meaning. "Why is a bee farm up there?" Yashiki asked. "A cult called Honey Bee Family used to live on the land." Kisara blinked up at the man. "No one's there anymore though." "They... Committed mass suicide." Christie's voice vibrated with nervousness. "The tabloids and gossip shows ate it up five years ago." Satoru's story made sense now. "They never revealed the details though, so the public doesn't know." "You seem to know quite a bit about the forest, Christie Arimura." Satoru jabbed at her. "Read up on it to find a primo spot?" it made Kisara giggle lightly. "Don't be an ass." she clicked her tongue, looking away. "I was put in charge of the report, so I did my research. Honey Bee Family was very insular and secretive. I heard the mass suicide end was all the members following their leader. News channels chalked it up to their discontent with modern society." "What happened to the leader?" Yashiki asked. "Rumours say it was also suicide... Though... I saw an old picture, and..." Arimura hesitated for a few seconds. "Let me guess. Shimi-O is the leader of the cult." Kisara's lips formed a thin lined, making Christie nod her head. Christie nodded her head. "It's just like the rumours say. That forest is cursed."

Kisara wanted to deny and say something else, but she was being wary of Mary. She didn't trust that doll. "There's no way I could... The voices of the suicide victims surrounding me..." "Shut the hell up, hag! No more words outta those lip flaps!" Shou screamed at her. "But it's not only the the forest that's cursed. I failed to kill myself and now I'm at this mansion... I'm cursed too..." Kisara groaned - Though she was going to reprimand Shou for yelling like that, her annoyance was diverted. "How long are you going to cry for attention and self-pity? We're not your celebrity friends, so we don't exactly care about your little cheap show. So, if you're done begging for attention, can we leave? We've got the ghost of a cult leader to bring down." the doctor clapped her hands together. "Yeah, she's right! So, what're ya gonna do, old lady? You still wanna die?" Shou mocked the news anchor. "I'm considering it." Kisara slapped her hand to her forehead in disbelief. "But I'll still help you guys while I'm making the decision. I'll pass on the monster fighting though." "Wow, you'll help? I'm shocked." Mashita rightfully scoffed tauntingly. "If you leave your Mark alone, you won't need to hike back out there." "Well, I hate owing strangers. Especially pushy and hard-headed guys like you two." Christie said, addressing Mashita and Hasashi. "You owe us nothing. We didn't do anything for you. You followed us on your own accord." Kisara's edge cut her off. "Besides... I'd suggest opening a dictionary when using words to describe other people, otherwise you will appear really silly for being almost 40 years old and not knowing the words you're using." "Why, you--" Christie stomped her foot on the ground, only to see the woman put her hand on Mashita's and Yashiki's back and guiding them towards the door, whilst she got completely ignored. "She's too loud." Kisara stated simply, getting back in the driver's seat. The drive back was silent, yet not awkward, but rather, filled with anxiety and anticipation. What were they going to discover? Will they encounter Shimi-O again? Will they get out alive? With so many allied, they sure hoped so, though the threat seemed far worse than Hanahiko. This was one very scary ghost.

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#purify thy soul #death mark imagine #death mark x reader #death mark x oc #death mark #mashita satoru imagine #mashita satoru x oc #mashita satoru x reader #mashita satoru #mashita satoru x hasashi kisara

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felibrary · 6 months ago

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MY BEST FRIEND- GOJO SATORU

my one and only...

from me to you: this is dedicated to your dear stranger anon. yes, yes i know you didn't request anything but i've written this just for you as a small gift because i know that you have many exams stacking up right now and in the near future. so i hope that those words will reach you as they fly away with the wind like sacred doves carrying out a letter. good luck with all your exams <3 + cause of your exam yesterday as like a little gift to refresh from whatever that thing was

synopsis: satoru gojo - s.g., the letters you've used to carve into the moist tree bark, wishing that one day you'll be his, will one day be engraved onto the wedding band you'll carry around your ring finger. it's an oath - a vow that he'll fulfill, he promises. after all, satoru gojo has always been yours, no matter if there was a ring around his finger or not.

pairing: gojo satoru x reader | wordcount: 2.6k | content & warnings: childhood friends to lovers, word vomit, making out in one scene, gojos backstory (not particularly compliant with canon gojo backstory, i’ve made my adjustments here and there to fit the story BUT no major changes), gojo being a cocky kid and turning into some obnoxious loud teenage boy, mentions of megumi and tsukimi, tba if i feel like adding more, i’ll proofread tmrw (i always do LOL); oneshot

a/n: gojos been growing on me

satoru gojo is your best friend - he’s always been; he’ll always be.

satoru gojo and you grew up side by side, the two of you were inseparable ever since childhood. people knew that if satoru were to appear somewhere you’d be right at his side, it was the same the other way around.

while satoru was like the positive pole of a magnet while you were the negative one, despite being polar opposites you’d still get attached to each other, glued to one another until they get split up. (although that’d never be the case because the both of you always find your way back to one another.)

you’ve known him ever since he was a scrawny and spoiled kid that was missing two teeth in the upper and lower row of his teeth. satoru has always been someone who’s gotten pampered, whether it was in gifts, praise or affection. he was the golden child, destined to carry out the task to be the strongest - a gift, some say. or was it rather a burden to bear to be the strongest? a curse cast upon him?

on the other hand, he’s seen you in all your awkward middle school and highschool phases. the “teeth adorned by braces” phase, the “i’m not like the others, no one understands me!” phase, the “face and back covered in acne” phase and many more. throughout all of these periods in your life he has always been by your side though, telling you “i told you so.” as he scoffs but being supportive nevertheless.

after all, that's what best friends are for.

the first time you met satoru gojo was in some closed off forest near your neighborhood. you’ve always gone here during your leisure time, playing hide and seek with your friends, stargazing near the river side and building shelters out of decayed wooden branches - that's where you find him.

his white hair stood out immediately, he was easy to spot from afar, like a prey with bright fur that could easily be taken advantage of. “hey you!” you shouted as you strided over to the boy who was shorter than you by a head, you noticed his knees are scraped and there's dirt all over his clothes. he snapped his head right at you, enigmatic blue eyes staring right at you.

azul colored eyes that glowed like the surface of the water as the sun shined down on it and as the wuthering waves that chaotically danced around in the ocean, gazed at you with skepticism. they’re so pretty - ethereal even.

but then, how come they looked so dull, plain - lifeless?

“if you have nothing to say and keep staring at me like that you can just leave.” the young boy spat as he tensed his eyebrows. “i have enough of the likes of you at home already. gawking at me all day long, makes me sick to the stomach.” he complained bitterly and looked down to the red and brown maple leaves that were splattered around the floor, before swaying his gaze back to you. autumn has officially arrived.

rude much. you thought to yourself. but admittedly it did look like he was telling the truth, his gaze was still fixated on yours, sharp as ever. you felt a bit bad, but only a tad. after all he had no business being this impolite, the both of you looked the same age - hell maybe he was even younger due to his stunted growth. also, this was your place, your secret base, so he had no reason for being this rude.

you returned his unimpressed stare. “m’sorry but how could i possibly ignore someone whose eyes are literally the same color as papa smurfs skin tone.” you say, hoping to get some kind of offended reaction out of him.

although the reaction that you were anticipating to get was nothing like the actual reaction you’ve gotten. “who or what is papa smurf?” the boy stopped tensing his shoulders and tilted his head in confusion as he scrunched up his nose.

“you're joking!” you shouted in surprise. “jeez, could you speak any louder?” the boy retorted in annoyance. “and no, no i’m not.” he muttered.

at that you were only able to laugh loudly, clearly riling him up. “what is wrong with you?” the boy asked, still confused. normally you would’ve been offended, perhaps even sad but this time it's different because you can tell that he doesn't actually mean it like that.

“sorry, sorry.” you covered your mouth with your hand, preventing your remaining giggles to escape. “you’re really funny, you know that?” you said as you looked down at him, blatant disbelief written all over his face.

“excuse me?” he asked as if he needed you to repeat that to know that he hasn’t misheard you.

“you’ve heard me, don’t pretend like you didn’t!” you pouted in annoyance. “wanna be my friend? we can even be best friends if you want to!” you asked in a cheery sing-song voice, eyes lighting up with joy.

best friend. two unfamiliar words that nicely rolled down his tongue. satoru wasn’t used to the concept of befriending someone, everyone whom he grew up around with were his house maids or cleaning staff and some old hags that came by from time to time to discuss matters with “him.” his only task was to “sit politely and smile” as he only had to sit in the same room as his parents as they talked about their plans for his future, while he could only bore himself around with some books which he has probably read about three times now.

it certainly would be a nice change of fresh air, his mother would probably scold him for ruining his expensive clothing and befriending someone of lower status that wouldn’t benefit his family him. but, really at the current moment he really couldn’t care less.

“sure.” he held out his hand, asking permission to intertwine your hand with his to shake hands. you reciprocated the action and placed your hand in his as you shook his hand in delight.

“a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” the young boy said as he let go of your hand.

“yeah, same here!” you replied happily and suddenly started to search your pockets for something, as he could only wait. finally you pulled out a small fabric - a plaster he notices. “here!” you tried to hand it to him but he can only look at you in confusion. “for your wound on your knee.” you point out which immediately makes him look down, how come he didn't even notice? “ah, right.” he said, gratitude clearly showing in his voice as he sticks the plaster onto his knee.

“wait! i don't even know your name.” you say hastily as you pull out another item out of the pockets of your trousers, it’s a pen this time. “here take it and- ugh wait, it's such a hassle!” he could only look at you as you rolled up the sleeve of your striped shirt, revealing a plaster on your elbow. “here! sign it with your name. i’ll do the same, if that is of course okay with you.” you ask nervously. “yeah!” he says a little too quickly for his own liking, surprising himself.“i mean sure.” he corrects himself.

you only shook your head and smiled as your pen slid over his plaster, it tickled but he refrained from laughing, deeming it as unprofessional. he looked down at his knee, your name now brightly shining in a neon green on his plaster. he returns the action, elegant penmanship, lithe letters ornamenting the plaster on your elbow.

satoru gojo, huh?

the atmosphere became a bit tense, you didn't notice not until satoru uttered a quiet “thank you.” and gave you an awkward smile, shy and not exactly knowing what to do.

you hope that he didn't notice the tips of your ears going red. “ah it's nothing” you say in a pip squeak voice, happily beaming at him.

if satoru wasn't smiling before he definitely now was, grinning from ear to ear.

no, it's everything but nothing. 11 years ago, on one of the first days of autumn you showed satoru gojo just how beautiful the world outside can be. freeing him from the cage he was kept in. introducing him to the concept of “friends”, - best friends.

there has always been an unspoken rule between the two of you to never say “i love you” to one another. bickering and banter like an old married couple, teasing each other with flirty remarks - anyone would guess that you’re dating. but the both of you always brushed it off by reasoning it with saying. “we’ve been friends ever since we were 6-7? he’s like a brother to me!”, “nope we’re just friends.”, “us? dating? no way!”

but everyone could tell that there was something going on between the two of you, perhaps everyone but you guys.

“aww, are those my initials you’re carving onto the desk? how romantic! reminds me of how you used to carve our initials into trees!” he teased.

“no, those are sugurus initials! s and g! suguru geto! dumbass.” you rejoindered.

“they’re at it again?” shoko sighs. “have been for the past five minutes, you know what they’re like.” suguru replies as he offers to light up her cigarette which she happily agreed to, holding out her cigarette.

“i still think that satoru’s gonna confess first.” shoko said as she blew the smoke out of the classroom window. “don’t think so, he’s too scared to ruin their friendship or in other words he’s a pussy.” suguru answers. “hm, good point.” the brunette hums as she taps the cigarette against her lips.

“SHOKO NO SMOKING IN THE CLASSROOM!” utahime barged into the classroom and immediately threw the cigarette that shoko held in her hand out of the window. “aww, bummer, that was my last one.” shoko sighs. “well, maybe that's your sign to-” “SATORU GET YOUR ASS BACK OVER HERE.” before utahime can finish scolding shoko, you interrupt her. “oh god, don't tell me they’re still at it.” utahime says, a deadpan expression on her face.

“sorry to disappoint you.” shoko and suguru reply in unison which utahime can only scoff and roll her eyes at.

just normal best friend activities, right?

drinking out of the same bottle, sharing an indirect kiss. holding hands in big crowds to not lose each other, looking out for him only to find him already staring at you.

there have been many tender moments that the two of you shared together. because you’re best friends, siblings who aren’t related, different blood running through one anothers veins.

so cuddling under the same blanket and humming melodies that put you at ease, patching him up after he’s hurt himself once again and delicately brushing over the bandaged wounds just like the first time the two of you met, sharing an umbrella and snuggling yourself on his shoulder.

it’s normal, after all it has been like this ever since the two of you were children, so why should growing up change this?

because this is what best friends do, right?

a night sky filled with an endless amount of stars, the cloak of the night is wrapped around the two of you as the moon; the circled orb and the stars shine down on you, casting their bright light upon your bedroom.

one hand clinging around his disheveled white hair as the other one moves around his body, tracing his jaw down to his abdomen as you continue to kiss him. a pair of lips meeting another one, his tongue pokes at your lower lip, requesting access to enter, you oblige and he explores the depths of your mouth.

pulling away, face flushed and out of breath as you pant, but still wanting - longing and yearning for more.

you’re hit with the realization that normal friends don't do this.

sometimes your friends weren’t able to make time for you or rather they didn’t want to make time for you, excusing it by saying they’re busy with exams or they’re already meeting up with someone else - both being blatant lies.

as for satoru he was always available - he’d always make time for you. going to the new cafe you’ve discovered, come along and take a stroll with you, try out a new hobby - satoru would always be excited to try something new if it was with you.

comforting you as you’ve worried about failing your exams, helping you study and even offering to tutor you, soothing your worries by massaging your back or gently caressing your body. he’d always have a way to make you feel better.

perhaps the only friend you’ve ever needed by your side was your boyfriend.

the lock of your front door is clicking as satoru opens the door and barges into the entrance area of your shared home. “i’m home!” your husband announces loudly.

upon hearing his voice you rush over to him, beaming as you spot him. “‘toru!” you wrap your arms around the crook of his neck as you bury your head into his chest and nuzzle your nose into his button up, inhaling his musky cologne.

“you missed me so bad.” he teases.

“yeah, guess i did.” your smile only widens when you look up to him and see his flustered expression.

you withdraw yourself from his body and take a step back. “what do you want for dinner?” you ask.

satoru can only slightly shrug with his shoulders. “i’m fine with anything as long as you cook it, nothing beats your food.” he replies as he removes his black jacket.

“oh shut up.” you roll your eyes as you giggle.

“it’s the truth.” he laughs.

“mhm, fine. but don’t complain when you’ll end up with megumi's leftovers.” you say.

“hey! no fair.” he chuckles. “but i suppose you’ve already tucked him into the bedsheets? eating before me, how could you!” he jokes in an offended manner and you can only hum in response. “yeah it was tsumiki’s suggestion, she said she’d wanted to learn for a test but didn’t want to eat alone.” satoru can’t help his lips quirking up as he hears that, an affectionate smile finding its way onto his face.

you step over to your dining table and seat yourself onto one of the leather chairs, propping your chin on the palm of your left hand. your wedding ring glowing in the iridescent living room lightning.

the letters s.g. are finely engraved into the inside golden wedding band, symbolizing you as his and him as yours, as if he hasn't always been yours - wedding band or not.

“come on, get changed, pretty boy.” you take a sip out of your kombucha tea and smile warmly.

“will do.” he returns your smile with an even softer one - a more lovesick one.

yeah, you have both him and his initials wrapped around your finger.

special shoutouts to @azullumi who's helped me with this (he didn't he literally sent me a deathwish -> me drowning..like hello..??) anyway azul i love love love love u sososososo much hhihihihi. (not pedo or reverse pedo??) talking to you is always such a fun part of my daily life/ became a part of my routine that always makes me look forward to it. even though time zones suck ass. (i should really start doing like a list of the things i wanna say here cause i feel like im getting repetitive) again anyway i hope school isn't kicking your ass too much right now, all your projects and exams etc. im wishing you luck with all of them but i already know that you're gonna pass with flying colors - if not i don't care, i'm proud of you regardless. ps: goodluck surviving 51° i'd literally melt into a puddle so like compliments and praises to you for surviving this fucking heatwave 😭😭

e/n: reblogs, comments, reblogs WITH comments are always very much appreciated!!

#felis staple of books ⋆·˚ ༘ *#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader

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babypinkhearts · 7 months ago

Text

know it’s for the better.

pairing: geto suguru + fem!reader, implied gojo satoru + fem!reader

summary: but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.

warnings: canon au, angst (please forgive me ily all), mentions of violence, vulgar language, crude humor, time-jumps, cameos from shoko, megumi, yuji, nobara :3 comfort.

word count: 16.8k

a/n: this fic has been my baby for a month, i’ve poured so much love into it. treat her well <333 loosely inspired by the songs “first love/late spring” by mitski and “waiting room” by phoebe bridgers. there are so many references to so many things in this :) some quotes that i will think about forever. hope you enjoy.

october, 2006.

“nine out of ten times.”

it’s the first sentence you say out loud after minutes of silence, and you’re given a puzzled look. it kinda makes you want to laugh, the confusion etched across his face so foreign that it’s rather intriguing. he’s golden, even under all the darkness. the world makes space for fallen angels.

“nine of ten times… what?”

you resist the urge to thumb that furrow in his brows, the creases looking wrong upon his soft features. you only smile, snuggling closer to him. either the room is magically colder, or suguru forgot to close the window. you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“that i would choose you.”

you’re slurring your words almost, but more from the plain laziness in your movements rather than from genuine exhaustion. suguru hums, fingers tapping along your arm. it may be around four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep.

the both of you hadn’t been able to for a while.

not since riko, not since toji, and definitely not since the new scar trailing across your stomach. shoko hadn’t been able to make the repair seamless.

you didn’t really mind. a lot of things seemed pointless nowadays.

“and the other time?”

your eyes linger on the strand of hair that always falls imperfectly on his face. a little crack in his flawlessness, though you’re not sure how grand that observation actually is.

you sit up a bit, propping your head with your arm as you look down at his pretty brown eyes. narrow, as they currently are, but still evidently alluring.

“well, i think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” you reason, voice soft. sometimes the dependency you had with suguru worried you. waves can crash, but the water itself remains. you think you’ll always be bound to him. his, forever. and yet you say, “i’d choose myself. just for a bit of sanity.”

it’s meant to be lighthearted, but the silence that falls afterwards kills any tone of playfulness that statement might have held.

you wish you had been a little more greedy.

•••

september, 2007.

emotions were complicated things.

it’s complicated to process the bullet you watch fly through a child’s head. it’s complicated to process your near-death experience. it’s complicated to process process the news of your classmate’s death. it’s complicated to process how it’s expected for you to go back to normal. it’s complicated to process everything.

so you curl up further, and hope that the news you’re hearing now is only a nightmare. because again, it’s too complicated to process.

“he killed them.”

and with the way satoru says it, repeats it, you think he wants you to sit up and hug him. be vulnerable, because god knows it’s been so long since you have.

but you lay there, back in the bed that you used to sometimes share with the criminal. the stillness makes satoru’s stomach drop, and he can’t will himself to say it again just for the chance of getting a reaction from you. but how much pain can a heart take? because it felt like yours might give out at any moment.

you didn’t sign up for this.

naively, no, you didn’t sign up for this.

“how many?”

you’re not sure why you ask. any number would have you spiraling, but with the silent refusal satoru gives by not replying immediately, you’re sure the answer would kill you alone.

he knows. he knows the exact number, he’d seen the report.

but he stares at your desolate form, eyes scanning the mess in your room. or, lack of. he hardly saw you get get out of bed these days if it weren’t for missions. the only sign of movement from you were the plushies that used to adorn your bed, now sprawled on the floor. for a second, he wonders if they’re gifted from who he thinks they’re from. but that thought feels stupid the moment he thinks of it, because - yes. of course they were. that man had loved you like his lungs naturally loved air. he loved freely, graceful in the way he cared. about satoru, about you. anyone, really.

so saturo makes a decision, hoping that it alleviates a little bit of the ache that he now concludes he will attempt to shield you from. because he cares about you too much to see you succumb to your own internal wounds. he wants you to be strong, like him. like suguru was. he can’t lose you too.

“i don’t know.” satoru lies, and he hopes that sentence can at least ease your heartbreak. but he feels it just as much. sorrowful, the kind of pain he’s been too familar with for a while now. he frowns when you don’t move.

obstruct from his view, your hands grip your sheets as tight as humanly possible, and you’re sure that you break skin through the fabric. you want to cry, but you can’t. not in front of satoru. not while he’s right there.

because this doesn’t affect you. you didn’t care.

so what? suguru had left you to the wolves. to fend for yourself. he became a monster. it didn’t bother you.

and you try to convince yourself to think the same when satoru sits beside you. you’re still thinking it as his shaking hand places itself on your side.

but you give up when he lays beside you, feeling his grief. and that pain only cements itself further as you begin to quietly sob months worth of misery.

you don’t feel much better after.

•••

march, 2008.

nine out of ten times, you’d like to be given the option to wipe your memory.

the other time would be the ability to travel to the past. it’s hard to decide which could be better, or arguably worse. maybe you could save haibara - tag along on that stupid mission and fight that stupid curse. switch places with him, even. the world seemed a lot duller without him in it. nanami spoke even less than he did before. you couldn’t keep up a conversation with him.

was it irrational to think that you might have been able to kill toji too? he just caught you on an off-day. you’re the reason he killed riko. it’s your fault that a child is dead.

there’s so much to be sad about, you’ve started to confuse those ugly feelings with plain normality. it’s natural to feel like this. you can’t really remember better days. they’ve blurred, causing twisted retroactive interference.

your rock had fled. any form of stability you had crumbled with the weight of your sorrow, and you’re forced to miserably pick yourself back up because you’ve never really been used to being alone. satoru wasn’t really around anymore, and shoko never left her studies. you certainly weren’t abandoned, but, unfortunately, you understood that grief couldn’t just halt time forever.

you’ve mourned so much, it feels silly to still have the same ache.

but how do you even move on? what’s the process like? because you’re almost certain you wouldn’t be able to survive it.

you’ve began to rid any remnants of him in your room; any proof of his existence. clothes, specifically, because they hold on to his scent, and you think if you stop for a moment to actually look at them you might break down again. you see memories in them. times where he’s worn the black t-shirts, or his white button-up. insignificant at first glance, but it’s your life you’re holding on to.

you stuff them into bags as quickly as you can.

if he’s not here, he can’t hurt you.

at least, not anymore than he already had.

you think it’s cruel that you’re stuck with a person’s presence even if they’re not physically there anymore. you’ll always associate this room with him. the world, at that.

and maybe it’s childish that your first response (after the sulking) is to trash his belongings, but you can’t think of anything more rational to do. the universe will move on without him. you can’t be left behind too.

when you’re finished, you’re not sure if the sight of five large trash bags and an emptier room makes you want to sob or hit something. it’s like life has lost it’s color - a new vision, duller than what was deemed humane. torturous.

yet you can’t bring yourself to pick them up and take them out of the room. you’re idle, staring at them like they’re just meant to disappear. you hadn’t realized how much your room consisted of just him.

trash, is what you’re unintentionally calling everything in them. but you don’t think that, never in a million years.

if it were up to you, you’d keep everything exactly where it was, and obliviously continue a cheery facade. but the thing about awareness is that after it’s discovered, you can’t really leave it. it’s branded into your mind, poking at your brain with a stick because it will annoyingly never have the intention to leave you alone.

it’ll sit with you in your darkest hours, and you’re unable to predict when light will shine through.

“dump them.”

you jump, defenses high on alert as you instinctively fall back. almost immediately after, you drop your hands, sighing.

shoko is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. you’re about to ask her how long she’s been standing there for, but her lingering gaze on your conflicting pile of issues answers your question before you have the chance to.

“i’ll do it for you.” she offers, finally looking up to meet your eyes. they’re a little sunken in, and she looks restless. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in nearly two weeks. she’s ditched the short hair since a few months back, the length sitting comfortably at her chest now.

you dumbly stare, non-respondent on purpose. you don’t want her to do that.

she seems to recognize the discomfort on your face at her suggestion, and you watch as her brows bitterly furrow, a small glare now directed at the bags. but you don’t get much emotion other than that.

“you can’t cling on to this shit. it’s unhealthy.” she softly explains, shaking her head. you wonder if that’s her medical opinion or genuine concern speaking, but you don’t ask her to elaborate. instead, you turn around, taking a seat at the edge of your bed.

you kind of want her to leave.

“what’s healthy, then?” you retort, shrugging. it sounded a bit hypocritical coming from her. shoko had barricaded herself for the past six months, not even offering an ounce of genuine sympathy. in reality, you know it’s because she’s naturally avoidant. she didn’t crave support like you did. she didn’t need it like you had. because shoko has always been independent, never strung up on people. and you envy that more than anything.

“i don’t know.” she answers honestly, pursing her lips. but with one look around your room, and she’s certain it wasn’t this.

hesitantly, she lets herself inside, eyes scanning the bareness. if it were any other day, she’d see suguru at your desk, or on your bed. he’d wave, and you would greet her with open arms. everyone knew the two of you were nearly inseparable (if it weren’t for satoru). the room always had a pleasant atmosphere when the two of you were in it. it feels cold and grim now, though. shoko has to fight a shiver.

you observe her, waiting for a joke or two. you’re nearly hoping, because any form of comedic relief had begun to be your craving. you needed an escape from all of this.

but instead, she turns back to you and wordlessly sits beside your tense form. it’s quiet for a bit.

there’s a charm that shines on the top of your desk, catching her eye. it dangles among other souvenirs, and shoko has to avert her eyes when she realizes that they’re all gifts from a certain deceased underclassman.

everything about this room feels like a graveyard.

“gojo comes back today.” shoko suddenly says, letting the first thing she can think of be verbalized. her eyes stay on the wooden floor this time. “he’s been in kyoto for a couple of days.”

you hum, nodding. you didn’t know.

if shoko kept her distance, then it was like satoru had completely faded. you couldn’t even remember the last time he had texted you.

then again, you weren’t sure if you’d even respond.

“i was thinking we could eat dinner together… when he gets back.”

your head perks up. barely.

that sounded familiar. mostly because it had been a routine up until recently. never verbally established, but it was natural for you and shoko to be accompanied by two towering sorcerers as you ate whatever satoru had decided on for the day. he was a picky eater. there’s a bitter taste on your tongue as you realize you’d be missing a member now.

“we can.” you nod, awkwardly kicking your feet back and forth. silence again.

you can feel shoko’s annoyance. how she’s trying to get you to talk, but you’re stupidly stubborn and refuse to. however, she knows you a little too well, and plays the waiting game. because she knows you’re weak when it comes to your heart, and weaker when it comes to the people you love. her included.

it’s not a relief when you finally break. if anything, it’s painful to hear, to watch. and though it’s only one question, it’s so complicated that it feels like you’ve asked her how the universe itself was created. simultaneously, it’s equally as simplistic.

it doesn’t even sound sad. it’s hollow, void of any distinct emotion. you’re staring at the wall.

“shoko…” you don’t pay attention to how she stills and watches you intently. you’re oblivious to the frown on her face, how she leans in just a little closer. and the widening of her eyes as you finish speaking. “how are you… okay?”

you feel particularly pathetic. shoko was so strong. satoru was the strongest. and yet here you were, more fragile than ever. on an alter, you’re a mere viewer from below. simply watching perched gods, basking in all their glory. the difference always evident, never comparable.

and yet shoko stares for a little, dumbfounded.

no, absolutely no one was ‘okay.’ the world was crumbling in front of everyone’s eyes. but you’ve always been a reminiscent person, she supposes. you search for familiarity. it’s harder for you to let go.

“did i tell you that?” she asks, more rhetorically than anything. there’s a teasing tone that her voice holds, but it does little to rid the tension of your question. you slowly shake your head.

“then how do you know that’s true?”

you shrug, fiddling with your fingers. “i don’t know.”

you want to tell her that your thoughts are purely based on toxic comparisons to yourself, but the air feels a little thick already, so you don’t.

“c’mere.”

there is no protest made when she wraps her arms around you, and forces you to fall into your bed with her. the pillows under your heads dip, and you’re enveloped in the softness of your blankets. shoko’s warm, and if you closed your eyes you might mistaken her hold to be like a mother’s affection. evident adoration, just by the touch. you’re derived and soak it up as much as you can, leaning into her.

it reminds you of late nights where you’d have sleepovers and gossip until the sun came up. too tired to train the next day, yaga ordering laps regardless of your visible fatigue. and you’d run with gleeful smiles, energy lifting as you were side-by-side again. an unexplainable friendship one could never truly describe with words, just pure thoughts. it’s sickeningly nostalgic, because you think about the fact that it really had not been that long ago. how quickly things change.

shoko nuzzles her face into your hair affectionately and sighs. she squeezes you tightly. declarative - ‘i’m right here.’ never enough to make up for the lost time and avoidance, but enough for now. because shoko didn’t act like this normally, and for you to see her in such a state meant more than just any regular apology.

“i think you know how to love better than any of us.” she admits, and that sentence alone has you curling a little more into her, your chest suddenly feeling tight. she leans in, and her lips form into a sorrowful smile as she observes you. full of pure understanding. again, a connection that could not be made with words. it feels a little spiritual. she brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face. “that’s why you find it all so painful.”

hesitantly, you offer a sad smile, her words all bittersweet. it makes you laugh a little distastefully, the reality of them hitting you at once. “well, that’s not fair.”

“it’s not.” shoko agrees, nodding. “but it’s a lovely thing.”

you make a face. recently, it’s only brought you suffering. the good bits don’t seem as worth it - as ‘lovely’ as she describes.

you pause, contemplating for a little. and your voice is affirmative, like you’ve never been more sure in your life. you kinda sound like a naive child.

“i don’t want it. take my feelings. i don’t like them.”

it’s true. it’s the biggest truth you’ve ever told with the biggest sincerity. and you know it’s not possible, that you’re stuck like this forever. a soft, easygoing heart that beats for everyone around it. your words make shoko snort - a real genuine laugh. you giggle through watery eyes.

“the world sucks.”

this time, it is a pitying smile that shoko gives you. lop-sided, and hesitant. she feels bad.

her arms leave you, and she opts to instead lay facing you, faces mere inches from one another. you’re both laying on your cheeks, against folded hands. shoko taps your nose.

“you know what i think?”

you hum, sniffing a little as you try to focus on the small amount freckles across her face instead of the overwhelming urge to let some tears fall. it works, for the most part. you count twenty.

“i think the world gives strong feelings to strong people.”

you smile at that.

shoko was something else.

“i’m pretty fucking strong then, aren’t i?” you mumble, tired eyes blinking as you sigh. shoko’s eyes crinkle as she returns the fondness, a hand resting on your cheek.

“definitely.”

and you can only hope she’s right.

there’s nothing that interrupts those sweet moments of tranquillity. where you can act like everything is just a little better, because in all honesty, it was. shoko’s good at making you feel like that.

if you really thought hard enough, this could be just another regular day. you want it to be.

you feel shoko’s finger poke your chest, and she gives you a pointed look. it’s like she could read your mind - subconsciously, as if she had the ability of a third eye.

“it gets easier. every day it gets a little easier. but you gotta do it every day — that’s the hard part.”

she leaves it at that.

you lay together, appreciating each other’s mere presence. and it feels nice. support, like you craved, but words even more. you aren’t able to formulate how much you adore her, but actions speak louder than words, so you shuffle just a tiny bit closer.

you’re not sure how much time passes by.

when shoko stands up, she rids you of her warmth, leaving the cocoon of wonder and comfort she’d so gracefully created for you. yet you feel fine, that isolating shiver now replaced with content. you think you feel a little lighter too.

“be outside by seven. if it’s up to me, we’ll all get sushi. no promises though.”

she’s back to being more standoffish, but still your same shoko. you nod appreciatively, the thankfulness worth the weight of a million tons. your eyes follow her as she walks across the room.

the door shuts, and you’re left alone again.

you can feel your heart beat a little faster, the realization of your commitment to the later plans finally dawning upon you. it would be the first real reunion since then. maybe a chance to talk things out. be levelheaded, get some communal closure.

or, maybe you’d be able to ignore the past and focus on the present. just act like friends eating lunch. because that’s all it was, wasn’t it?

begrudgingly, you force yourself to stand, too aware of the fact that your habits of wasting time in bed have far exceeded a reasonable amount over the past few months. it was time to get better, be better.

your hands grab the first bag.

it’s heavy, as you imagine all the other ones are. but you suppose if you don’t think about what’s in them, it’ll make the process a lot smoother.

you’re nearing the door when you stop.

it’s a small paper, it’s yellow exterior almost blending in with the sunlight escaping through the windows. you inch closer.

and it’s pathetic that the sight of his handwriting on a sticky-note makes you lose your breath. shameful, because how are inanimate objects this damaging?

it’s hung above your desk. by haibara’s gifts, and by notebooks you never really used in this academically-lackluster school.

you stare at it for a while, hand resting over your forehead as you take in every minuscule detail. you let go of the bag.

it’s the last note suguru had ever left you, made a few weeks before his disappearance. before everything went downhill. little poetic phrases that would embed themselves in your mind until death. you’re afraid to look.

it’s neatly written, displayed in purple ink. doodles of clouds and flowers surround the words. he had a habit of leaving them around. you suppose you never caught this one.

there’s a little heart next to his signature, encapsulating just a memory of lost devotion.

‘how strange to dream of you, even when i am awake.’

your hand crumbles the note in a second.

the paper is evidently weak, and when you open your hand back up, the words are still clearly there, haunting you. and you know you don’t have the heart to throw it away. or, realistically - throw anything away.

you fold the note gently, and leave it on your desk. your body yearns to leave, to escape the suffocation of what suddenly felt like walls that were caving in. you slam the door on your way out, bags and all left behind.

you’d definitely prefer to wipe your memory.

•••

april, 2005.

“you’re so annoying.”

satoru grins, standing proudly as you repeatedly attempt to hit him on the head, your touch stopped by his infinity. he’d only recently learned how to control it decently - claiming that he needed to because you had a bad habit of using him as your punching bag.

“you know what though? this is a good thing.” you muse, arms crossing as you finally give up. satoru’s head tilts, and you raise a brow. “no one wants to touch you anyways.”

there’s a dramatic pout that immediately finds itself on his face, and he whines from instinct, letting his guard down for a moment to shove you. you slap his arm before he has a chance to react.

“she’s right.” suguru nods affirmatively, earning a gasp from the white-haired male, and suddenly, suguru is being shoved too. you giggle, briefly making eye contact with him. it’s a little too quick for your preference, but the stolen glance has you holding your breath for a moment.

it’s exhilarating.

suguru is beautiful in a way that is hard to describe. but it’s not from a loss of words; you can speak endlessly about him. he’s everything a person could dream of and more. but it’s little gestures that truly draw you to him. how it seems like he always lingers, attentive and patient no matter what boulders you seem to throw at him. he’ll carry that weight on his shoulders easily, and with the most effortless smile. it’s a gentleness that you weren’t even sure was possible before you met him. he defies all expectations, all normalities.

“oh, i forgot to ask-“ satoru turns to you, raising his brows. sometimes his glasses bothered you. his eyes were freakish, yes, but you also had a conflicting urge to always look at them. “how’d your mission go yesterday?”

you cringe, involuntarily stiffening as you replay the events in your head.

“stupid semi-first grade. i let my guard down for a second and it almost clawed me.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. you fail to notice suguru’s eyes widen. “but we exorcised it right after. i swear i saw nanami shit himself.”

there’s a stark difference in reactions from both boys. while satoru snickers, suguru stays quiet. white and black.

“glad you’re still with us.” satoru beams, ruffling your hair before you have a chance to swat his hand away. “right, suguru?”

all attention flocks towards him, and you and satoru patiently await his response. he’s looking off to the side.

he feels a little childish.

there’s an uncomfortable pit in suguru’s stomach that he can’t shake off, and he swallows thickly, nodding with a dismissive cough. “yeah, glad it went well.”

obliviously, you flash him a thankful smile.

it makes him feel the tiniest bit better.

he wished yaga would pair you two together, or even put you with satoru. an actual backup - not someone below your skill level. haibara and nanami weren’t comparable; they were still new to jujustu. younger, less experienced. he holds a little resentment towards your abilities, and while he knows you’re never sent on missions that are tougher than you can handle, he always has an inkling of worry that lingers uncomfortably. he hates not being around you - not knowing if you’re okay. and he knows you’re a reckless fighter. you brush off the mention of critical injuries and move on, completely unbothered. the burden of stress came so easily when he was around you and satoru.

“you have another one tomorrow, right?”

you hum, nodding as you fiddle with the end of your uniform, sighing softly. “it’s across town i think. not sure who’s coming with me yet - maybe it’ll be shoko if i beg hard enough.”

suguru has to fight a wince. also not an ideal companion. shoko didn’t specialize in combat.

she’d only be actual help if you were wounded, and -

“why not me or satoru?”

he speaks before he thinks, and iternally, he punches himself in the face. he can see satoru stop moving in his peripheral vision. he thinks he sees a smirk. coy, but no words come out.

scoffing, you deadpan. “where’s the practice in that? you guys will kill it before i even get a chance to see it.”

and that’s true, because it’s happened dozens of times before. show-offs.

“we can get kikufuku after!” satoru exclaims, completely disregarding you as you begin to protest rather loudly. “i’ve been craving it. i haven’t had it since last week!”

“wait longer.” you sneer, glaring at him. “i rather go alone.”

now that, suguru would verbally be clearly against, without any hint of shame.

“boo.” satoru deflates, rolling his eyes at you. “that won’t even happen.”

it wouldn’t. you hadn’t earned that trust yet - the absolute certainty that you’d survive if you did a mission alone.

suguru’s glad.

“not yet.” you chirp, and the hopeful smile on your face doesn’t help anything. “but soon enough.”

there’s that unwavering aura you always hold that makes suguru feel a little sick. it’s determination, stubbornness, that follows you and keeps you whole. when you talk like that, words void of any doubt, he knows you mean it. and you’ll accomplish it, because your will for achievement is stronger than your rationality.

but he has you now, right in front of him, so he’ll ease himself of the worry. for now.

“in a million years.” satoru remarks, sticking his tongue out at you, not even bothering to look your way as you hold up a rather unpleasant finger in his direction. playful banter was regular between you two; you fed off of each other’s energy. suguru seemed to be the mediator.

an observer, with eyes particularly always lingering on one certain person.

•••

spring has flowers blossoming again, and you feel inclined to stay out for as long as possible. the confinements of your dorm feels like an obstacle, and it’d be a waste to miss out on the beauty that winter’s absence welcomed.

it’s perfect weather.

the cursed weapon in your hand had begun to feel rather light, your arm adapting to the overpowering weight. you disliked close-range combat, but you were being sent on tougher missions now, so there was no room for complaints. your abilities needed to strengthen.

and it’s frustrating, really. to have to constantly forgo complete confidence and figure out where you’re weakest; you could easily make a list with areas of needed improvement. a lot of your classmates seemed to lack that issue. you suppose what’s worse is that you’re completely aware it wasn’t a competition - but you had convinced yourself that at the least, you needed to stay on their level.

even if that meant working ten times harder, even if that meant exerting yourself past a reasonable amount.

but this routine has gotten you this far, and, sincerely, it hadn’t been too much of a problem to keep up with.

in fact, you could probably do a little more.

“you shouldn’t train so much, you’ll strain yourself.”

your stance falters, though you easily recover within the same second. maybe a little too late, but you tried not to be nit-picky. he was naturally quiet.

“i gotta keep up with everyone somehow.” you quickly grin, trying to calm the visible pants of your labored breathing. it’s futile, and you momentarily turn away, as if embarrassed to look anything but perfectly composed. to look less than him - or anyone, really.

your back is towards him.

suguru can read you perfectly. it’s with ease that’s almost completely overbearing, and some part of him believes that he’s only been put on earth to watch out for you. like it knows that you aren’t the kindest when it comes to yourself.

it’s so natural that he supposes it might be his true purpose.

you only hear him hum from behind you, and suddenly there’s a weight pushing down on your raised weapon, ushering it towards the floor. gentle fingers graze against yours, and you let him grab it from you, albeit with some hesitation. he places it on the floor.

“let’s take a break, yeah?”

he doesn’t even need to coerce you, you’d follow him blindly if he asked. you always do.

and he’s leading you, knowing you’re behind him without having the urge to look back and check. exhaustion lingers, but you’re too entranced by him to focus on the sore ache of your limbs. he’s graceful as he walks.

“we trained this morning.”

you freeze momentarily, looking off to the side with a shrug. it’s not that he sounds hostile - it’s just a bit more monotone than normal. “practice makes perfect.”

suguru makes a noise of acknowledgment, but it sounds a bit absentminded and dull, lacking any understanding. like a huff of annoyance.

“right.”

he shouldn’t be this bitter, this cold, when speaking to you. it’s rough against his tongue, and his entire body, mind and all, is actively telling him to stop. emotions are ugly things, though. it makes people less rational; less aware - say things they may regret.

suguru slows his steps, up until you’re beside him, where you should be. and by a glance at you, he knows he’s gotten too uncharacteristically rigid. you’re looking at him, confusion clouding your head. concern, actually. he sees it now.

“did i do something wrong?”

the meekness in your voice, haunted with worry, clears his senses in a millisecond. his eyes widen. panicked, he feverishly shakes his head.

“no — no. of course not.”

he sees you relax a bit, but you’re still looking questionably at him. your head tilts. “then?”

suguru sighs, swallowing thickly as he stops walking. it’s an enchanting sight, grassy fields just a little off main campus. you see a few flowers.

you follow after him as he sits, greenery cushioning your bodies as you settle. suguru picks at the weeds, his eyes on the floor. he speaks quiet, voice among the gentle breeze as his hair flows in waves. you have the urge to remove his hair-tie and see it fully.

“i just worry about you.”

you don’t even attempt to hide the slight flustered smile that finds itself on your face, body feeling overwhelmingly warm. he’s avoiding eye contact for once. l

it’d be a lie if you claimed you didn’t notice the tension - the smiles, the laughs, the soft-spoken volume of his pure voice. so silky smooth it’d rid you of all your worries in a second. but there’s something so alluring about never saying it out loud. like it’s your little secret the two of you can keep, because adoration itself is something so beautiful it needed to be dragged out for as long as possible. you’ve grown to be a little impatient, though.

you nudge him teasingly.

“don’t. i’m right here.”

and it’s true; suguru sees it as a privilege. to be around your presence, to just talk to you — he worships the ground you walk on, and he’s not sure how to tell you that might be the reason why he worries so much.

instead, he chuckles, head bowing momentarily.

“i wish it were that easy.”

you bring your knees to your chest, giggling lightly.

he’s cute.

undeniably.

“it is.” you urge, dragging out the last syllable as you sway towards him. he meets your eyes. “just trust me like i trust you.”

suguru thinks that you’re sometimes oblivious to the weight of your words. they can be so intimate, and you’ll deliver them like any other sentence. as if you hadn’t just made his stomach churn, and his heart beat a little faster. he trusts you more than a healthy amount. he’d trust you with his life, his future — he’d leave everything in the palms of your hands.

“i do.” he replies, reassuringly. it’s earnest, and you smile. suguru bites the inside of his cheek, and closes his eyes. “it’s everything else that scares me.”

and there’s really nothing you can really do to help that fear, because you know it’s completely reasonable and realistic. tomorrow is never promised, especially with the hectic lives you live. you want to tell him that you have similar thoughts when he and satoru are out for days at a time, no return window strictly placed. that it has you pacing back and forth until their arrival, and even then you downplay your relief. but that’s a little embarrassing to say when he’s listening so intently, so you keep quiet.

you turn to him, shrugging with a smile you pray looks more optimistic than sorrowful.

“we can only ever hope for the best.”

a little hollow, less declarative than preferred, but it works the same. suguru nods in silent agreement.

suguru used to think that exceptional beasts like you and him could not fall in love — that it was the secret of ordinary people. for beings, who can alter the world, were special in indescribable ways. but he’s grown to be more open-minded, more accepting.

because what else could he do? you were so irresistible that it ceased the existence of his birth-given psychology. his mind, altered just for you.

“you know… you don’t have to prove yourself of anything.”

this time, it’s suguru who nudges you. he leans in, and you feel his hair brush against your arm. it tickles, but you don’t flinch. your body naturally welcomes the proximity, tingles and goosebumps etching across your skin. you squint, waiting for him to elaborate. and he does, with one validating sentence that kinda erases the possibility of self-doubt. just for a bit.

“i think you’re strong.”

he’d move stars for you, talk to the moon if it meant you got to keep the shimmer in your pretty eyes. and he’d ask the sun to stay out longer so he could continue seeing your rosy cheeks.

he’d gladly live for infinity if he could be the reason you get flustered forever.

you’re very pretty like this.

his eyes are watchful, observant as you scoff bashfully, avoiding him. and you quietly respond, with that same soothing voice. he thinks it could be a lullaby.

“i think you’re strong too.”

suguru smiles, nodding and all-knowing. he pokes you playfully.

“i know.”

you’d complain, but his tone lacks any arrogance. just a statement, enough said. because he knows how you think, how you observe.

and while you don’t say it out loud, your eyes are telling him ‘thank you.’

how beautiful the act of reading an expression is. of knowing a person so easily it’s like clockwork, unraveling intricate details to form a conscious understanding.

he watches your eyes narrow, and awaits a question he knows is on the tip of your tongue. your face looks a certain way during contemplation.

“you like doing this stuff?” you ask, tilting your head. “being a sorcerer, i mean.”

as if the two of you had other options. you didn’t.

but there’s something comforting about answering known questions. speaking the obvious into existence, letting the information linger in the air.

“i like it.” suguru replies, smiling. “if you get rid of the bad stuff.”

his voice gets quieter at the end, but you save him the questioning glance and smile back.

you hum, nodding. “like what?”

and you can name a million bad things. every day is a reminder of them. the two of you have that in common. but thankfully, the world has been kind enough to not let you experience them. your optimism hadn’t been tainted.

and as you expressed to him — you try not to dwell over the ticking clock, only ever hoping for the best.

suguru’s hands are behind him, propping himself up as he gazes at sheer, distant clouds. the sky is a pretty mix of yellow, orange, and red. evening approaches.

“well, all that self-sacrificing stuff for the betterment of mankind — for starters.” he sighs, head leaning back. you wonder if you imagine the way the slight slivers of sun sparkle against his skin, and how angelic his aura seems in that very moment.

you scoot a little closer, gaze matching his as you look upwards.

“we’re helping so many people, though.” you reply, glancing at him for a second. his eyes are closed, like a cat basking in the warmth of the light. you want to kiss his cheek.

“we are.”

“i think it’s cool.”

“it is cool.” he affirms, nodding. one eye opens, and he shamelessly stares as you obliviously observe the world. suguru is suddenly grateful that this view is currently only reserved for him, as he’s sure anyone would fall in love with you in this exact moment. yet, at the least, he wants you to see yourself in his neutral vision.

but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.

he looks at your hand on the grass, right beside his. it’s contemplation that’s been built up for months, thoughts of you invading all his senses. suguru figures that if he had a flower for every time he’s thought of you, he could walk through a garden forever. he inches his fingers closer.

and pauses when they’re less than a centimeter away, pulling back as you break the silence.

“i mean, i’d die for you guys too.”

suguru tenses, and you grow nervously quiet from the sight of his surprised expression, feeling suddenly embarrassed. an awkward laugh leaves your lips in an attempt to ease the gloom of your words, and you mindlessly wave your hand. “if it came down to it, y’know.”

you would in a heartbeat. you’d do it a thousand times over if you could, but you don’t tell him that. that proclamation is reserved for only you.

and as suguru looks over at you, stares, he doesn’t think he’ll ever despise an idea more than he does now. it’s blazing, the thought horrendous.

“don’t say stuff like that.” he demands, shaking his head brazenly. you can feel his eyes still on you, and he’s lost his smile. “don’t ever.”

all the defense, the stoicism, stemming from the thought that — yes. he 100% believed you would die for anyone. and that terrified him more than anything.

suguru isn’t sure how to communicate his thoughts in a softer way. he doesn’t mean for his demeanor to grow so cold again, but it bothers him - makes him sick - that you can say things like that so easily.

“i didn’t — i’m sorry.” you stutter, eyes wide. you swallow thickly, “sorry.”

and again, it’s hard to be upset with you.

but this, he can be against. he needs to be.

“you can’t think like that.” suguru speaks, softer this time. it’s pleading, as if he’s begging for a bit of mercy. and he is. “please.”

he wants to tell you that it’s okay to be selfish, to prioritize yourself first. but it would seem a bit hypocritical coming from him, because he knows he’d throw everything away in a whim if it meant keeping you safe.

love blinds him, he supposes.

“okay.” you nod, eyes on the floor. “i won’t.”

you’re considerate enough to lie, despite knowing full well that your words don’t align with your mind whatsoever. and you think suguru knows that.

he’s staring. you can feel it, eyes as intense as a midnight sky. you feel a little afraid to look up and meet them.

but it’s only instinct when he speaks your name softly, a coaxing whisper among suffocating tension.

you think he looks ethereal when being clouded with concern. godly, towering upon you. the magnitude of his gaze truly shows with the lack of distance. you register the feeling of his hand on yours before anything else, the touch searing from pure shock. a large palm covers your skin.

“… i’m sorry. i just care about you a lot.”

worry is care. it’s one of the greatest devotions — the act of panic for another person.

suguru thinks that romance may actually be the most horrific thing in life. that it’s not curses, but love. it’s the deepest weakness.

“you kill me when you get injured — when you speak like that.” he mutters, and the two of you don’t say a thing as his hand inches higher.

it feels a little harder to breathe.

“can’t promise i’ll stop.” you reply, a pitying smile finding it’s way on your face as you watch him close his eyes briefly.

“i know.”

suguru feels a little like a broken record player, doomed to repeat the same phrases like it’s clockwork.

it’s futile, you’re mutually aware.

he can’t control you, he’s unable to dictate what decisions you make — no matter how stupid, or how horrid they are to him. but he can’t bring himself to stop trying. maybe, if you’re reminded your value, you’ll eventually think the same.

but, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now could make him believe anything.

“did you find out who’s joining you tomorrow on your mission?”

the corner of your mouth quirks upwards, and he knows your answer before you say it out loud. he grins.

your other hand places itself on top of his, and you smile back. heart giddy, but you try your best to keep your composure.

“i pulled a few strings.”

•••

december, 2015.

you wonder if growing up not only changes your body, but your soul.

because it takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are, and even longer to see that it doesn’t have to be that way.

it’d be kinda hard to feel your unhappiness now, regardless.

“i prefer if you keep them outside, megs.” you wince, eyeing the dirt-covered paw prints on the hardwood floor.

the two perpetrators stand on either side of their summoner.

flushed and clearly embarrassed, megumi curtly nods. his hair moves the slightest with the movement, and he turns his head away from you, kicking his foot back and forth. “sorry, i wasn’t thinking.”

the dogs leave your eyesight quickly after. you snort, playfully rolling your eyes at him, walking over to ruffle the dark spikes on his head.

“it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” you smile, silently pleased when he doesn’t move away from the ministration. he’s always been more lenient with you, a fact you hold high over a certain white-haired sorcerer. “plus, i’ll just make satoru clean it up.”

if you had blinked, you might had missed the way megumi’s mouth quirks up, satisfaction clear as day. it makes you giggle, up until you finally inspect him closer. your eyes linger on the dirt covering the side of his white shirt, and you softly sigh, pursing your lips.

“how was the curse?” you ask, nudging him a little where the stains are most prominent. “roughed you up a bit, huh?”

megumi’s introduction to jujustu wasn’t entirely seamless, but he was definitely a natural. an anomaly, like satoru. born with talent.

you watch as his face turns sour, and his eyes suddenly narrow, the stoic expression more familiar. he avoids your gaze and looks at the door expectantly, mumbling something under his breath.

“what?” you reply, brows furrowing as you lean a little closer in hopes he’ll repeat himself. megumi’s mouth opens again, and he’s about to, but an obnoxious ‘i’m backkkk!’ interrupts him.

you share an unimpressed look with the younger boy.

satoru strides inside, whistling with a grin. you’ve spent too much time with him, years ticking off your lifespan from both the annoyance and contentment that he simultaneously brings into the world. he and megumi had left early in the morning, and it was around midday now — too long with him, as you can clearly pinpoint on latter’s face.

satoru’s hands are in his pockets, and he shuts the door with his shoulder, leaning back against it.

“missed us?” he smiles, and he walks over to throw an arm around megumi, which is immediately thrown off. satoru glares momentarily, but quickly looks back up at you, clearing his throat. “missed me?”

you stare, sighing softly before gently tugging megumi towards you.

“i missed megumi.” you correct, crossing your arms. your head motions to him, “and why does it look like he got pushed on the floor? i thought you said-“

“it was a grade three!” satoru immediately exclaims, and points to the boy beside you in accusation. “he told me not to get involved.”

despite his adult frame, satoru never really outgrew his childishness, still quick to blame anyone other than himself. his defensiveness was mildly irritating, but you've come to grow used to it. your head shakes disapprovingly, and you huff. “he’s thirteen, you idiot.”

satoru’s smile turns a little mischievous as megumi looks at you quizzically, a frown on his face. “so?”

you rub your head in annoyance, ignoring satoru’s ‘oooo,’ and gently flick megumi on the forehead. “you’re not an official student yet. dealing with curses by yourself can wait. for now, you fight with satoru.”

satoru dramatically sighs, and much to your dismay, approaches you. his arm infamously wraps itself around your frame, body leaning towards you, and it feels like the weight of an elephant, crushing you as you stumble. he doesn’t let up. “you worry too much. and he exorcised it! maybe with a little less ease than expected, but-“

he grunts when a hand collides with his side, and you’re too busy pushing him off to see the way he sticks his tongue out at megumi.

maybe your concerns were a little irrational, but your heart was in the right place. megumi was still young, still enrolled in a normal middle school — albeit, close to his last year — and you had originally planned to keep him completely innocent for just a while longer. no world of killing, curses, and whatnot. but satoru had pushed him into it within the first few months of his complicated adoption, and you secretly knew that there was nothing you could do to completely shield that side of the ugly world for him.

so, you suppose the least you could do was teach him how to protect himself. in case you or satoru couldn’t.

“well,” you sigh, defeatedly. there’s a lopsided smile on your face, and you expectantly look to megumi. “how was it, then?”

there’s a boyish smile, a little shy, that appears on his face. “cool.”

“see!” satoru grins, arms raising in victory. “he loved it, and he should probably do it more often-“

“fine, fine.”

it’s always been pretty futile to argue with satoru. not only is he stubborn, but painstakingly arrogant. he tends to think his ideas are always the best, simply because they’re made in his very head. and you can’t discredit them, because normally, they’re alright. but it can be frustrating. he’s also really hard to deny.

it’s only natural to give in. just so you can avoid drawing it out.

“awesome! i think he’s ready for a special grade!” satoru claps his hands, and you deadpan, rolling your eyes.

“don’t kill my kid.” you mutter, shaking your head as you turn, ignoring the way satoru’s smile settles into something a little more genuine. heartfelt, maybe.

truth be told, you’d trust satoru with everything and more. you worry and fret, but at the end of the day, he’ll still be there. he’s been stuck to you like glue for years now, and it didn’t help that you practically live under the same roof. different rooms, but realistically having no actual space. it’s nice, and you really do hold him in your heart deeply. at an arm’s length.

you end up being stuck with cooking dinner yet again — satoru winning because otherwise he’d ’poison the kids’ (which, you think is stupid because he could easily just follow a recipe. also, he’s used that excuse before.) — and it’s like clockwork, a routine, when you find yourself sat across from him on the couch afterwards, tsumiki and megumi long gone in their respective rooms.

you’ve found that gojo satoru acts a bit differently when it’s just the two of you. less irritable, and easier to talk to; you’ve noticed this since you met him. his voice gets quieter, the blindfold comes off, his hair falls, and you’re presented with a more raw version. and maybe the kids get a different version too, but you find that hard to believe when megumi’s distaste is so palpably strong.

“movie?” satoru asks, peeking at you through narrow eyes. his face is a little smushed by his palm as he leans against the armrest, and there’s a lazy smile on his face. he looks kinda tired, weirdly enough. exhaustion is so foreign on his face that it looks almost fake. you wonder how much he slept last night, spotting hints of darkness beneath the pretty blue of his vision.

you think it’s strange that you don’t get sick of his presence, even after all this time. that’s it’s forever missed more than loathed. you’re always in such close proximity, practically doing everything together, and yet you find that crave him every second he’s not beside you. pitifully, it might just be the attachment issues you’ve subconsciously formed, and have unfortunately plagued satoru with. but that reason just seems a little too sad for you to fully admit. everything realistic is somehow bitter. you softly sigh, momentarily closing your eyes.

you’d love to stay, just to hear his idiotic rambles and comments. they always brought more substance than the film itself. and he’s been gone all day. you rub your forehead, feeling a small inkling of guilt.

“i have a mission later.” you reply, apologetically, and smile sincerely. “but when i come back, yes.”

an active report coming from a town over — information on paper only describing the energy as ‘ominous.’

“oh,” satoru’s eyes widen, and though you’re unable to read the exact emotion on his face, he seems a little alarmed. nearly wincing. he’s kinda upset that you didn’t tell him sooner, that being visibly clear — but then again, did you really have an obligation to? he didn’t really tell you whenever he had missions. but that was because he’d return in a few quick hours every time. satoru didn’t like being gone for too long either. he never dragged out his departures; he hated to leave you by yourself, even if the kids were with you. it feels a little cruel. you watch his eyes dart towards the windows, and he shifts, facing you. the movement is a little awkward, and he pauses before his speaks, hesitant with his words. “want me to go with you? it’s kind of late.”

it’s sweet that he asks.

“satoru,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “it’s a couple of second grades. i’ll be fine.”

a little white lie, but you craved some action. satoru always got stuck with the interesting missions, and even then they posed no such threat to him. all of your assignments were simple, too easy to be considered enjoyable. if this was going to be the route you were taking in life, — exorcising curses — then you could at least make it somewhat fun.

satoru can tell something’s off. you’re too dismissive, and you won’t look at him directly. but he feels as though it’s not his place to scold you, and he trusts you dearly, so he ignores his gut.

“alright.” he shrugs, his arms moving behind his head as they nonchalantly cross, contrasting the way he feels a little unusual. “call me if you need anything.”

•••

december brings cold winter air, and you blow into your palms, attempting to warm the skin that’s begun to grow a little numb.

more people should go on nightly walks, you think. maybe then it’d be more calming. every street you’ve turned to is nearly empty, the only comfort being provided by dim overhead lights. but you suppose you’ve gone through more fearsome events, so this shouldn’t really be that big of a deal.

it’s a little frustrating to be walking around so aimlessly. the report gave no specific location, just the brief mention of a couple of previous sightings. by now, they’d more-than-likely dispersed to other areas.

you’re slightly tempted to call satoru for some help, as you’ve never been the best at detecting curses at a long-range, but you refrain.

it was late, and you know he’d probably never let you live it down.

satoru would never say ‘no’ to you. but there comes a price with that reliability and expectancy. small instances, like when you caught a cold, and had asked him to order for you at a coffee shop because your voice had been to sore to do so. he complied, but not without a relentless amount of teasing, even going to far as to lie to the barista, saying ‘sorry, she’s just really shy.’ he lived for your embarrassment, and it was generally harmless, so you couldn't reprimand him for it.

but sometimes every time, he’d have his own small apology. like how right after you had returned home, there was soup coincidentally ordered on your front porch.

satoru had walked inside without looking at you.

he can be tolerable. rarely.

you're nearly persuaded to go back home, midnight beginning to take a toll on your tired eyes. as far as you were aware, the curses hadn't caused harmful havoc. but it'd be pretty humiliating to head back without a small victory, and even then you'd probably stay up feeling guilty.

unintelligible whispers break you out of your thoughts, and you blink, eyes scanning the area.

goosebumps arise, and your head turns.

finally.

you nearly jump when you see it, though keep your composure, standing straighter.

it’s hardly detectable, as it stands. fairly large too. it might actually be a second grade.

you huff, brows furrowing as you inspect the curse. this was the cause of the ‘ominous’ energy? you feel it, but it’s looks don’t work well with it’s written description. maybe you’d be heading home sooner than you expected.

your hand reaches behind you to grab your weapon, and you move forward, testing to see how fast it’s reflexes are.

it doesn’t move.

you pause, rolling your eyes briefly.

“at least put up a fight, dude.” you mumble, nearly sighing as it continues to plainly watch you. you walk a little closer, up until you’re only a few feet away, and hum. “you’re not the brightest…”

you insert your weapon back into it’s sheath, and stare. it’s been a while since you’ve had the chance to see a curse so closely. they’re all usually extremely reactive, not sparing you a second before attacking. violence is their prime instinct; the main thought in their heads.

when you reach your hand to poke it, and it still doesn’t budge, you know something is wrong.

oh.

your entire body stills, and you’re certain that you feel your stomach drop to the floor.

something felt familiar.

confirming your terrible suspicions, the curse disappears in front of your very eyes. not exorcised. you’re staring at the empty space that it once occupied, too bothered by the fact that your heartbeat has picked up ten times faster.

you almost reach for your phone, but stop, feeling as though it wouldn't be the wisest decision.

this suddenly all feels a little too calculated. you don’t even attempt to grab your weapon again.

shock numbs your bones. it bleeds through and renders you useless.

you hear your name before you see him, and you figure it feels the same as the nearly-fatal slash toji had given you almost a decade ago. so painful that it makes your heart stop. it’s spoken with such intimate fondness — too much for your poor heart to comprehend.

his ubiquity is so daunting that you’re sure all time ceases to exist.

you don’t want to turn around. you want to run, flee before you know it’s too late. before you hear him speak, and the world comes crashing down all over again. you’ve tried so hard to piece it back together. every tiny detail - you’re not sure if you’d be able to start over. why now? when you’ve finally been better. when you finally believed that normality was even possible to achieve.

but you’ve always naturally given into him, and that habit stays strong even after all these years. you think he knows that too.

it’s with upmost hesitance that you turn around.

you’re not sure what to do.

he’s a sight for sore eyes. healing, beautifully transparent. a dear smile, inviting you closer. or more like a predator awaiting it’s prey. your body is giving you every negative cue, yet your legs stay in place, submissive to his presence that’s been so horrendously missed.

he a little looks older. or maybe that’s just the unfamiliar sight of all his hair down.

“hi.”

a part of you thinks that if you ignore him for long enough, he might disappear. leave you alone, as he’s chosen to do before. he’s lost the right to be welcomed.

fury is really the only emotion you could accurately pinpoint. you hate how soft he speaks. you hate it more than anything.

if you could stomach it, you’d ask him to close his eyes and turn the other direction. you’ve always been weak when he looks at you so intently, as if studying you to the finest detail. but you refuse to be the one to look away first - you selfishly crave his attention more than you value your own self-respect.

and as suguru looks at you, he thinks you’ve made it impossibly more difficult to do anything but beg for undeserving forgiveness. he’s staring at reflective streams, seeing as they slowly trail down your face. it must feel nice to be falling tears, symbolic of raindrops returning to the ocean. he’d like to sit in front of the ocean again. with you, being careless teenagers just for a little longer. but the ocean brings back bitter memories and the thoughts of a certain brunette child, so he refrains from thinking further.

“… don’t cry.”

it’s not a command of any sort, but instead a quiet plea. you’re too pretty for tears. too pretty for pain, too pretty for this unfair life he’s plagued you with.

he watches your eyes visibly widen, and your hand raises quickly, using your sleeve to wipe remnants of your intense emotions. it stains your skin a bit red from how roughly you move, lashes dismally coated with the aftermath.

“i’m not—“ and you huff, your throat feeling tight. your head bows by instinct, and you shake it firmly. you press your palms to your eyes for a few seconds, pushing harshly, as if the pressure could ease some of the shock, or ground you in any way. “i’m not fucking crying.”

cautiously, suguru nods. he’ll play into you, listen to everything you say even if it’s not entirely truthful. anything to make his appearance less daunting and harmful. he waits for you to speak, knowing the sound of his voice may not be as pleasant as he had hoped. he’s not sure what he was expecting.

battered already, in so much internal sorrow you might collapse, you breathe as deeply as you are able to. it shakes, and you opt to biting your lip instead.

harrowing disbelief is tainting your skin and bones, and it feels hopeless to even try understanding why he’s here. waltzing right back into your life, bewitchingly present. words linger, staying on the tip of your tongue as you internally battle yourself to release them. release you.

the air smells like rain. and you think — all this anger, it was once was love.

“i hate you.”

and there’s a frown on your lips, trembling as you try to muster up all of the loathe, resentment, and frustration into those three words.

it fails. because the admission is not of truth — if anything, it’s guilt. for the sole reason that you know your feelings stand the exact opposite.

you hate suguru for leaving you. not him as a person; him as a thought. a thought that consistently runs rampant through your mind, adding fuel to a prevalent fire that refuses to be extinguished. and you imagine that he likes that he still has that effect on you, because the hauntingly serene smile he holds doesn’t even falter, not for a second.

you’re forced to stare at him with that expression, and it feels wickedly taunting. not as comforting as it had before.

“that’s alright.”

it’s all he puts out into the air, and that gentle tone he holds kinda makes you want to hit him. he’s not like satoru — you’re sure he’d let you. but suguru can sense your agonizing heartbreak. he’d sense everything about you with his eyes closed. and he feels guilty for making you reopen old wounds, but he’s unaware that they’ve never been given a chance to properly heal.

geto suguru sees a little bit of you in everything lovely. the sun shining in the morning, the smiles on two pretty little girl’s faces, the moon casting a dim halo over the world at night.

you’ve only become a greater treasure. one to be cherished, to be adored. he’s missed you in his sight more than anything. you’re still a angel on earth, incredulously beautiful. even with tears, even with that despaired look on your face. he’s fighting every urge in his body to not step closer and mend your broken self.

he’d like to run his fingers over your soul and pour his love into each crack he finds.

“give me a few minutes. that’s all i need.”

he’d prefer an eternity. but he thinks that he’s asked for something reasonable.

it’s expected when you scoff, glaring daggers with blurry vision. but it doesn’t make it any less painful.

suguru can take it. he deserves it.

“please.”

the distaste on your face refuses to falter.

you crave to love without it having consequences.

since when had caring become so much of a burden? it’s evil, honestly. maybe stone-cold was the way to go. nanami might be on to something.

“stop this, suguru.” you whisper, hand sliding down your face in frustration as you let out a bitter sigh that lacks any amusement. “leave me alone.”

he savors the way his name sounds on your tongue, the drawn-our syllables holding the same familiar care of nearly a decade ago. it feels longer, too much time spent away from you. it lightens his aura, makes his senses heightened in almost a feral way. you speak of him like fate.

old habits refuse to die, and he stays where he is, the same face of persuasion used as he outwardly refuses your answer.

“kill me, then.” he shrugs, and he thinks he might actually die from the way your frown falters into shock once again. his smile twitches, nearly threatening to downcast.

it should be what you do.

suguru was a dead man. that fact hadn’t slipped your mind. you remember when satoru saw him, in the flesh, after the sentence. he couldn’t bring himself to kill him then, and you could briefly recall the look on his face when you softly told him you could eventually do it if he wasn’t able to. that solemn twinge, knowing something you wouldn’t admit out loud.

because satoru knew, better than anyone around, that if you went through with it, it would break you past the point of repair.

suguru, seemingly satisfied with your stillness, steps a bit closer.

it kinda feels like doom. you think the world may stop for a moment, and that all the bad things in life will come and finish you off. that death will take your hand, guiding you, kinder than anything that’s ever really touched it. because what it’s held before has cursed it.

when his hands reach up, you expect a knife in the throat — any consequence for the stupidity of your compliance. but the blades are soft, and they raise to hold your face. gently, as if earning the trust of a stray kitten. because they’re not blades, they’re his hands. he feels you shaking against them. and it’s odd that all tranquility really needs is a certain sight; reassurance in the form of a graceful being who has been absent for too long. you don’t move. you’re unable to. instead, you stare, taking in a lost future. hair you used to brush yourself, eyes that would watch you with such visible adoration. they still do, and that realization alone has your head hurting.

you feel his thumb wipe below your eye, and it feels cold over your heated skin. suguru sighs, his eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly.

“you’re very beautiful.”

it’s spoken almost hopelessly, as if the admission physically hurts for him to say. in a way, it does. he’s let go of one of the last devotions to you that he’s kept bottled inside of him, because he knows this might be the last time he sees you. he has to let everything go. you need to know what he thinks of you, how important you are. how he’s submitted his soul to the disaster of loving you since you were teenagers.

by the way his eyes narrow, and his pupils grow just a tiny bit bigger, your eyes widen, and you’re pushing him away instantly.

you know what comes next. you’re able to predict it before it’s able to horrifically conjure itself out loud.

“no, suguru.”

he follows after you, a firm yet gentle hold on your forearms stopping you from completely leaving. you’re already shaking your head, biting your lip as it threatens to quiver. he’s trapping you, and he knows he’s already won.

“let me.” he coos, rubbing the skin of your trembling limbs. and you try to convince yourself that you shouldn’t sympathize, or fall for that sweet, missed voice of his. how he’s just a stranger you unfortunately know everything about. to ignore gentle aura you’ve missed so much that you felt as though you’ve never been able to get a grip on the pain in your chest. “let me say it.”

you’re not built for this, not capable enough to take another harrowing blow.

“leave — fucking, leave.” you seethe, frantically attempting to pull your arms back, though his hold has gotten stronger, and the fight that you have left in you is quickly diminishing by the second. there’s a moment — the tiniest sliver of time — where you stumble, and you’re being pushed closer to him before you can blink.

“you don’t want me to.” suguru shakes his head, eyeing you carefully as you stop your movements. it’s declarative.

you’d like to slap him. knock some common sense into his head because, obviously. you never wanted him to. not when you were sixteen, not now, not ever.

it’s just defense. because you cruelly know that letting him in will just make everything worse. walls were needed for protection, even if the doors are halfway open.

his hands find themselves cradling your face once more, and he’s pulling you, a small gap being the only distance left between a terrible decision. you’re subconsciously following, body keen on obeying his every move. his gaze feels a little intrusive, looking so intently you have the urge to turn your head and close your eyes. your breath is shaky, and you feel a little light-headed.

you wonder if anyone else in the world has ever loved someone this terribly.

hastily, your hands place themselves on his chest with an attempt to push him away, but they stay pliant. you look at him, incredulously.

“what is wrong with you?”

it’s clear when his expression darkens a little, and he dejectedly looks to the side. you catch his eyes widening a bit, the harshness of your tone foreign, because you’ve only ever spoken to him with such tender care. you’re spewing out words with cracks in your voice, nearly whispering because you’re afraid that if you speak any louder, it’ll truly start a storm.

“you… you kill people, leave me — leave everyone — and then…” your eyes close, and you feel the liquid trailing down your cheeks again before you’re able to stop it. you can’t finish your sentence, too busy holding your breath to calm a threatening sob.

it feels like you’re sixteen again, and everything is crumbling.

his arms move slowly as they wrap themselves around you, and you feel even more inclined to cry when he presses your head against his chest. like he’s done dozens of times before. he sucks, the world sucks. this comfort is long overdue, and you still can’t find it in yourself to complain, simply succumbing to the pressure of his presence. you’d like to hug your younger self. because she needed this, even if it can’t really count as closure. even if you currently felt your knees buckling from beneath you.

“i wish i could take away the pain, pretty girl.”

suguru won’t give you false apologies. he only feels guilt for causing you harm. he dislikes how pain looks on your face, and he wants to tell you that he’s unable to sleep at night without you, that every day is a challenge. that truthfully, the ache is mutual. but he has something to accomplish, and you stand on opposing sides.

the two of you are stubborn people.

“take it,” you tremble, and your arms are already around him, despite the screams in your mind. he feels safe. he feels like everything and more. “please, please, take it.”

the pleading in your voice makes suguru feel horribly ill, and he tightens his grip on you, not really knowing what else to do.

it’s worse when you’re the perpetrator. the criminal, the evil. he wonders what your life might have looked like without him in it — how happy you could have been. should’ve been.

but there’s been bad things — events that he’s sure might had ended horrifically differently without his existence.

he wonders how your scar looks, now.

suguru’s fingers are firm as they reach below your chin, and he forces your eyes to meet once more. they’re red and glossy, but still undeniably captivating. he’d like to look at them forever.

“i would, if it were that easy. i promise you.”

you believe him. it could be from the genuine strain in his voice, or your muddled brain that’s clawing to escape your own head. what good is a healthy mind?

he’s saying your name again, and it’s quieter this time. more intimate. you don’t cower, you stay, even huddling the tiniest bit closer. you’ve given up on composure, you’ll let him selfishly have you. besides, it feels nice when he’s treating you so delicately. hands ghosting over your cheeks, eyes that admire your desperate, sad ones. you don’t stop him this time, numbly prepared for the aftermath.

he pauses, trailing his thumb over your jaw, and swallowing thickly. he’s never quite looked normal. always too perfect in comparison to everything else. he smiles, and you see a hint of something that you can’t really classify as full joy.

“i love you.”

the world doesn’t end.

you’re still looking at him, thinking that it will for a moment. instead, you see bashful pink.

‘i love you’ is such a tricky sentence. it’s powerful, meaningful, and could also be a lie. the power of speech is that there really are no limits, and you suppose that’s what makes bad people. sometimes.

he toys with the collar of your shirt, briefly, and lets out a breath of amusement through his nose. suguru feels lighter. and simultaneously horrible. he tilts his head, barely, his voice quiet.

“will you let me kiss you? even if you hate me?”

there’s a little teasing in that sentence, and he nudges his nose across the side of your face affectionately. you’re unaware of how hard his heart beats against his chest as soon as he asks.

you’re sixteen once more, and you’re silently nodding before you’re able to think further.

you’re imagining fairytales you can’t believe in.

it’s hard to determine how long you’ve thought about it. his lips on yours. your hands are in his hair and on his face nearly immediately. you’d trade a lot of things to be this close for longer — you wish to be combined. and he’s soft. he’s so soft you dread taking your hands off of him. if heaven was a place on earth, it’d be this.

pitiful.

he tastes sweet, like a forgotten dream. butterflies suffocate your insides as you stand, and your knees feel a little weaker. suguru is a bit impatient with his movements, hands trailing down your sides to squeeze and caress. his touch feels hot and is hastily done, but gentle nonetheless. you feel his lips curl up against yours, and your stomach flips.

you rather not pull away. pulling away brings back reality, and fantasy is really all you want. if you kiss him a bit harder, and close your eyes a little longer, you’re able to stay.

he pulls back first.

you’re breathing heavy, eyes wide as they bore into his. he might be the most precious thing in your life, and you’re not sure if you’re able to let him go. you’re afraid that you’ll love him forever, and that you’ll never be in the same place again. this feels cruelly temporary, and you know it is. by the way his expression settles, and the way he repeats those three words so quietly, it’s meant for only you to hear. a fact.

“i love you.”

you swallow thickly, in a haze that’s caused just by his very being. a drug-like addiction, and you feel so content it’s like you’re home.

suguru knows you won’t say it back. and in all honesty, he prefers it that way. it’s what’s best. what matters most is that he knows you mean to. he’s able to read that lovestruck wonder on your face so easily it makes him warm. it was both a relief and horror to be known so perfectly. you, who still wears your heart on your sleeve. he’s forever grateful that you’ve always been so giving, so selfless when it comes to him. he feels as though he abuses your sweet compassion.

you tug on his sleeve.

“we can work something out.” you whisper against him, and suguru knows he’s gone too far. he’s tensing, and his eyes are anxious, a small shake of his head contrasting your nods. “i’m yours. i’m yours before anything else.”

heart, mind, body, soul. you’re bonded for life, and you’ve known that since you were young.

“oh, no, baby.” suguru hurriedly answers, and the desperation in your voice, the way you clutch on to him a little tighter, has his head reeling. he’s panicking. “you’re better where you are, sweet girl.”

you know his mind is made up, that it’s fruitless to try, but you’re so blinded by desires that you don’t even care that you’re begging him. he’s mean, doing this to you. there is no ultimatum or other decision - this is it. you’re just destined to be separate, and that hurts to realize, so you’re glad he’s cushioning the blow. just enough for you to keep standing.

suguru is complicated. he hates that he is, he hates what his life has brought him (the only exception being the beauty of the people in his past; you included), but he’s certain that you’re safer as it is. golden and pure. with satoru, with shoko. and you’re strong. you’re so strong he can’t put it into words.

maybe he had some reasonable motives — riko’s death, yours and satoru’s near deaths, haibara’s death — but they’ve shaped him. shaped you, more, as it seems. you continue your life, even after it’s been tainted red, and blackened with misery. satoru, the same. you can take a bit more. you’ve gone through the worst of it. at least — it’s what he selfishly tells himself.

it was stupid to come see you. kiss you, at that. but he can’t bring himself to regret even slightly. if he’s considered evil, barbaric, he’ll gladly take the titles if it meant spending more moments with you. it’s cruel, not malicious.

you’re still his person. but he can’t have you fully — at least, not in this lifetime.

suguru isn’t really sure he could pass on the torch so easily. to give you up completely — the most ultimate sacrifice. where there would be a possibility of his replacement, and the loss of his heart. he can’t trust anyone with loving you; no one can really love you like he does. he’ll take pride in that.

“you’re going to live a long, happy life.” suguru quietly assures, nudging his nose against yours. your eyes are tightly shut, overall avoidant. this might be a nightmare, if you believe hard enough. “find someone who loves you, and you easily will, do everything-“

“i don’t want anyone else.” you interrupt, eyes narrowing as they open, like the idea is something of the unthinkable. “you’d be stupid to think i do.”

this might be worse than unrequited love, you think. every feeling is mutual, besides the belief that you should be together. he’s the bane of your existence. and that kills.

suguru is reasonable. you understand his refusals, why the two of you can’t be — how immaturely you’re thinking about this. you can’t leave your life behind for him, it’d be asking for your own death sentence and the loss of everything left that’s good in your life.

you can’t create a cycle, as much as it pains for you to come to terms with.

“i can’t have you, pretty girl.” suguru sighs, trying to ignore the way his voice wavers the tiniest bit. he’s growing desperate in persuasion, but even he falls flat against the situation. “i want to, so bad, but it’s not right. we’re not right.”

your chest feels tight as you stare up at him.

you wonder, truly, if he’s aware of all the turmoil he’s caused; that he’s let happen, because he never even came back to offer a mere shoulder for support. he simply left you in the dust.

it hurts to hear, especially coming from lips that had been pressed so wonderfully against yours. you still can’t bring yourself to hate him.

you used to fear irrational ideas. that if you let someone in, take care of you, you wouldn’t really be yourself anymore. independency never worked well, and you’ve strung on a bit too hard to a knight in shining armour. a being like icarus, who’s flown too close to the sun. you were right, it seems.

you’ve lost, and it kills to realize.

bitterly, you remember hearing some time ago that ‘it gets easier.’ or better. it’s been repeated to you, multiple times. the reality is, you’re not too sure. what gets easier is maybe the coping. but even that is still evil and painful.

hopeless, you stand, and your voice feels hoarse.

“… suguru?”

how can you hate something so natural? when it feels as though those syllables are meant to be spoken in repetition. his name means excellence; to surpass all.

suguru looks at you, eyes previously occupied with gazing upwards to avoid an act of human emotion. they mirror yours, glossy and faintly red. no visible tears. he has the self-control you lack.

but you can be a little selfish.

“can you…” you take a deep breath, and lean a little forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck to escape a reaction. if he feels the liquid of your tears, he doesn’t comment on them. he’s awfully warm. you’d like to lay in bed with him under a summer sun again. you’re trying to force every part of him into your memory while he’s pressed to closely against you. how his hair tickles your neck, the security of his loving arms keeping you from physical harm, how pretty he looks up close.

it’s not greedy to ask for a final request, you think.

“can you stay with me, then? for a few more minutes?”

an innocent question, while he’s been nothing but cruel. despite everything, you’re still you.

it reminds him of his youth. when you and satoru would get into playful arguments, gaining a few steps on him, only for you to turn back and check that he was still there. or when you would return from missions, him being the first person you looked for every time, just to let him know you came back safely.

sometimes, you’d come back a bit battered up, and instead of confiding in shoko for help like any other person would, you trusted him with treating the wounds. all natural, because that meant you got to spend more time together. human bodies are fragile things. he realized the true extent of that after toji. you really can’t take anything for granted.

so it’s really no wonder why he fell in love with you. why he came to fully accept it. and his belief stands strong — anyone would. angels are irresistible, he finds. he would sometimes see wings.

suguru’s glad you can’t see his face. because maybe then, you’d catch the sight of a reflective shimmer trailing down his cheek.

the embodiment of your dreams, hopes, and desires holds you so gently, a little tighter now. he nods against you, but it feels disconnected, because he’s faded into darkness that has already consumed him. too far gone.

time is nothing for now.

and you wonder if it actually does get better, or if everyone is just lying to you.

•••

september, 2018.

“sensei?”

blinking slowly, you immediately straighten at the sight of three towering figures above your relaxed position.

there’s a panic that sets in at the recognition of how watery your eyes feel, and your head turns in an instant to cough awkwardly, avoiding their stares.

it’s around noon, judging by how pleasantly the sun shines through the window, and how awake your students look. yuji liked to sleep in sometimes.

“did i zone out for a bit?” you mindlessly chuckle, the words feeling a little strange on your tongue. you might have a migraine from how much your head is hurting. “i didn’t get too much sleep last night, sorry guys.”

your smile radiates a reassuring warmth, and the concern on their faces leaves by the time you look back at them. if jujustu didn’t work, maybe you could take up acting.

“we finished the warmups you instructed!” nobara beams, short hair flowing after her as she proudly stands. she glances at yuji, her eyes narrowing. “well, me and fushiguro did.”

yuji shoves her.

nobara has always reminded you of rough recovery rooms and gentle curing hands. it makes you a bit nauseous, the nostalgia of it all.

the sight of the whole trio sometimes felt like daggers digging into your heart, stabbing greedy wounds into open gashes before they have a chance to heal.

brighter days for them, a dull ache for you.

“you weren’t awake yet-“

“i told you to wake me up!”

“you did not!”

yuji and nobara bicker for a second, and you feel a little overwhelmed.

because since these two have set foot on campus, they had seemed oddly familiar. unbeknownst to them, but relentlessly distressing for you. you’re silent as you observe, the uncomfortable pit in your stomach staying clear as day. stubborn, because that’s only natural for you.

more than a decade has passed — nearly three years since your last encounter, almost a year after his death, and yet here you are. the hurt just as strong, because you’ve realized that the pain will never fully go away, and you suppose you’ll have to adapt to living with it forever.

but you’re grateful. though you couldn’t go back to the way things were, you have a chance at stopping the cycle. after all, you know little about what the future has in store for them.

you hope it’s kind. you want those grins to stay permanently, for their youth and innocence to linger for as long as possible. because you never had that luxury. the end of your purity was far too quick, adult emotions flooding your senses. you’d do anything to keep them from feeling like you.

plus, you’re allowed to grieve over the child you could’ve been.

“alright, alright,” you blink, interrupting them before their voices can get any louder. they immediately quiet down, turning to you expectantly. it freaks you out a little.

you were still relatively new to whole teaching thing, not used to being followed so attentively. it felt weird to give orders — to have them be listened to, really. satoru was more of a natural, his cheekiness benefitting him perfectly. even if the students found him undeniably strange.

“give me ten minutes and i’ll meet you outside.” you wave a hand, pointing to yuji. “and sorry kiddo, you’re doing some laps for getting up late.”

you fight a smile as you witness a pout form on his lips, nobara’s laugh drowning out his whining. you’d probably only make him run one, but it was always amusing to lie to his face. you adored yuji — he was a bundle of joy graciously given to the universe. it’s pure luck that he ended up with you.

you watch as nobara drags him out, your head resting on your palm, softly chuckling. they complimented each other well. like siblings, you think.

your head turns, finally facing eyes that hadn’t strayed away from you since you woke up from your daydream. it's like a sixth sense now. you know when he's looking at you, when he seems genuinely bothered. it took time to know him. he’s a hard shell to crack.

“you don’t get special privileges, megs.” you snort, motioning your head towards the door. “go join them, i just need some time to wake up.”

megumi looks unimpressed (and honestly, when does he not?), sighing softly before coming closer. the cushion beside you sinks as he sits, and you raise a brow questionably. his voice is blunt, quiet as it fills the room.

“you think too much.”

it surprises you a little, but you’ve come to learn that megumi is rarely predictable, and to always expect the unexpected.

“do i?” you muse, your smile visibly weakening as you softly laugh.

he was too aware of everything, perception like no other. he reminded of you of suguru sometimes, behavior so nonchalant in comparison to the rest of the world. they were both silent observers.

megumi nods, and you realize he’s rather close, only a few inches away from grazing your skin. touch was something megumi struggled with growing up, so you never pushed it on him; you hated making him uncomfortable, while satoru could care less. the giant didn’t understand boundaries. but sometimes, movie nights in his adolescence led to him latching on to you in his sleep. he had his moments.

it makes the action of his hand raising, pressing your head into his shoulder, much more meaningful.

“don’t think.”

megumi’s never been one for melodramatic situations. growing up, he’d used to complain when tsumiki would force him to watch disney movies with her, getting visibly annoyed when he’d spot her tears during more heartfelt scenes. you never brought up the fact that he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder (you secretly wonder if that’s why he’s doing that now), or would rub her back. megumi’s not kind, per say, but he knows how to secretly love (in his own, strange way. similar to satoru), and you think that’s more important than anything.

“that’d be cool.” you sigh, closing your eyes. your eyelids feel heavy on your face, and you try not to get too comfortable, remembering that you’d have to get up in a few minutes. “wish it were that simple.”

megumi hums, staring straight ahead.

your past is a secret to him, tightly kept in the confinements of your heart. and that's really the only hint he's ever needed to know that it still affects you. satoru, the same. he knew little about your lives before he came into the picture, only hearing bits and pieces when you and satoru would get a bit sleep-drunk and giggle about old memories. he's always tried his best to listen, soaking in any details he can. people are generally more honest and open when physically tired. it's why they confess things during late night conversations, and why the flow of words comes out more natural.

you were different from the idiot that had originally taken him in. megumi can scream from every rooftop that he hated gojo satoru (despite it being secretly untrue), but you? the mediator, who he looked up to more than anything? impossible, it’d be criminal.

maybe you disliked seeming hopeless in front of him, but he didn't mind that vulnerability. he wished you'd trust him with it more — that you knew he would never dream of judging you. he's not too well with words, or communicating, really, so he's also not too sure how to tell you. a double-edged sword.

"you're okay, though — right?"

his eyes glance downwards towards you, dark blue highlighting the inklings of concern. it's not awkward when he asks.

he has a heart, despite satoru's beliefs.

heart warmed, you grin, raising your head to look at him with crinkled narrowed eyes.

you find it funny how the world works. going in some strange, bittersweet chain of events because here you were, caring for the life of a dead man’s son while he had permanently tainted yours. and you're happy. not completely, but sun shines through. the blinds are halfway open.

something that had once seemed so dark has been becoming technicolor.

"yeah." you nod, sincerely, and pat his cheek gently, stifling a laugh when his face scrunches in silent disapproval. "thank you for asking. really."

his face gently pulls away from your touch, and you can tell he's slightly flustered, just a tad embarrassed at your small affection. you're grateful for him, unbelievably thankful for the bits of effort he's always put into caring about you (and tsumiki. and maybe the tiniest bit for satoru. tiny.). a true blessing.

gingerly, he stands up, hands in his pockets as he glances at you again, double-checking. you smile.

he only continues to walk towards the door when you give him a nod in reassurance.

you're left staring at your hands when he leaves, a soft sigh escaping your lips. some days are harder than others. it's the toss of a coin, no chances pre-determined. you simply wake up to the surprise every time.

admittedly, you miss the version of you that doesn’t really exist anymore. naive, but more open. fearless and valiant, only ever seeking improvement. you feel bitter that you took that time of your life for granted.

you’ve found that everything’s felt easier, though. something in the air is different.

“hey, did you leave the kids outside? it's hot out there and they're complaining like crazy-“

you hear footsteps come to a halt, and your head tilts up, finding satoru in it's vision. he stands in place by the door, eyes wide as he stares.

"hey," you nonchalantly wave, stretching to alleviate the soreness in your muscles. "i'll be out in a second."

you attempt to get up from your seat, but satoru ushers towards you, stopping you from successfully moving.

"woah, woah, woah — what’s got you so blue?” he asks, scanning over you briefly. there's a light-hearted smile on his face, and if you didn't know him well enough, you might have mistaken it for amusement. but it's down-casted slightly, and he's looking at you a little too intently.

you snort, rolling your eyes playfully, “i’m not blue.”

satoru blinks, unappreciative of the response that he can only justify was from being around him too often.

“fine — what’s wrong with you?” he corrects himself bluntly, crossing his arms. your eyes follow him as he takes a seat beside you, and you internally sigh, thinking about how you’ve left your three students to perish under the sun.

you wave a hand dismissively, "nothing.”

“aw, c’mon,” satoru drawls, and you have half a mind to complain when he sprawls himself over your lap, his eyewear pushed upwards and off his face as he looks up at you. the blue twinkles, even under the fluorescent lighting. “you’ve never been a good liar.”

“okay, now that’s a lie. a bad one.” you scoff, poking his nose. “i’m a talented actress. oscar worthy.”

he playfully winces, narrowing his eyes at you. “no one’s ever been honest with you before, huh?”

“who needs opinions?” you roll your eyes, nudging his head softly. “it’s all about self-love now.”

“yeah, yeah,” satoru whistles, peering up from one eye, the other closed as he visibly relaxes against you. “see how far that takes you.”

you gasp dramatically, “mean.”

the corner of his lips quirks up, and his familiar smirk returns.

banter was natural with satoru. it was hard to take anything seriously with him around.

he brings joy in mundaneness.

“you shouldn’t trust megumi, y’know.”

confused, you pause, looking at him questionably.

“why?” you ask, and you’re internally conflicted as you attempt to recall every recent memory in your head that’s a classified secret. or, something you’ve generally told megumi as of late. nothing comes to mind.

“dunno. he told me something was wrong with you when i walked past him right now.”

your eyes widen, and you groan, head falling back against the couch’s soft exterior.

traitor.

“so,” satoru continues, and his voice is softer, a little more serious. “really — what’s wrong?”

it’s always been pointless to beat around the bush with satoru. he’s impatient, immature, and wonderful. a bad mix that makes you wonder how it’s even possible that he’s generally likable.

“nothing.” you emphasize, rubbing your head in slight annoyance. “he’s making it up.”

you rather not have this conversation. not while the air is half-hearted, and everything has been steady. but he’s right there. and it might not hurt as much as you think it will.

satoru gawks, mouth open, before poking you harshly. “now you’re calling our son a liar? low blow.”

you huff, “he went lower by betraying me.”

a beat of silence.

“so he was right?” satoru blinks, and he’s sitting up hesitantly, awaiting your voice, or a movement. anything to confirm.

“will you leave me alone if i say no?”

“no? you just admitted he wasn’t lying.”

“oh. yeah.”

you’re smiling lightly, faintly awful because you’re not too sure how wise you’re being. maybe this was only the mature option.

“um… i was just thinking. about him.”

you hadn’t really spoken much about last december. there was no tension or anything — it was just a touchy subject for the both of you.

satoru had more right to be bothered.

you expect his expression to drop — for it to grow uncomfortably quiet, leaving you to voice a regretful apology. you’ve rarely seen satoru break. his joyous front is him in natural form. sorrow doesn’t look right on his face.

he’s only been at his worse around you. and that’s a fact that binds you for life, as dismissive as you two seem to act about it.

angels carry weights off your shoulders, and satoru smiles a little. albeit, visibly bittersweet, but a smile.

“we do that a lot, don’t we?”

he’s stupid, annoying, and infuriating when he looks at you like that. as if you two are similar, and he knows how to ice the bruises on your back.

(he does.)

geto suguru is an enigma. is, because even in death, he’s found a way to stay alive. he lives in memories; in thoughts that keep both of you awake at night.

“i guess i just …” you trail off, staring at the floor. you’d be okay with living the rest of your life by satoru’s side. he’s peace, and he knows you tenderly.

you exhale, a small bitter chuckle leaving your lips.

“i don’t know what to do with all the love i have for him.” you admit, arms laying flat as you shrug with a despaired smile that makes satoru feel a little hollow. your hands flow freely, motioning for a few moments before resting back in your lap. “i don’t know where to put it.”

you haven’t known in years. it’s bundled up, suffocating your insides and exhausting your soul. he’s too well tangled with it.

a lot was left unsaid.

answers you crave, questions that will forever follow.

“i’ll take it.”

satoru grins, and you have to bite back a smile from how infectious his expression is. it radiates sunshine.

you feel his warm hands cup over yours, and he gently rubs across your knuckles with his thumbs, soothing that isolating cold. “you can give it to all of us, actually. but more for me.”

he’s silly, and he’s everything and more.

you wonder if you would’ve made it through without him. he’s impacted your life so heavily, you can’t imagine a world void of his presence.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you mumble, smile ever-so-visible as you playfully nudge him. satoru nods feverishly.

“i’d adore it.” he’s beaming like the cheshire cat, and your expression falls flat as you await whatever idiotic words would flow out of his mouth next. he brings a finger to his chin and hums.

“you know what, though? maybe give some extra to megumi. but i’m not really sure any love could save that kid. not even a mother’s. he's creepy, i'm telling you-“

“satoru.”

he innocently smiles, eyes closed. “just a suggestion.”

you playfully roll your eyes.

it’s all romanticism until it truly hurts. love seems so small, so trivial, when you’re not being affected.

satoru hides his grief better than you ever could. he copes uniquely, and you suppose his way may even help you a little.

they should invent a healing that is linear, you think. so you can’t fall behind, and you can be all-smiles too.

but you’re close enough.

just the right amount, actually.