mononijikayu

[mononijikayu]

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone. 

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it. 

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity. 

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty-one I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

__

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him. 

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally. 

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful. 

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance. 

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks.  Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way. 

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true. 

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read. 

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time. 

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice. 

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties. 

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm. 

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane. 

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.  

It's relieving in the worst way. 

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little. 

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago. 

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you. 

You look at him. 

“You’re horrible.” 

“Tell me something new.” 

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.” 

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already. 

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.” 

“The contract. Are you serious about that?” 

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.” 

“And that’s me?” 

“Seems like it,” 

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol. 

“...Fine.” 

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to. 

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy. 

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower? 

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all. 

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.” 

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid. 

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle. 

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears. 

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery. 

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria. 

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least. 

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression. 

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face. 

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.” 

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is. 

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness. 

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it. 

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions. 

“How would I know?” 

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?” 

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.” 

Sukuna barks a laugh. 

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?” 

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.” 

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can. 

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors. 

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh. 

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.” 

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?” 

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy. 

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that. 

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again. 

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up. 

“Thought of something, brat?” 

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine. 

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.” 

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?” 

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.” 

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?” 

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want? 

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.” 

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter. 

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him. 

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat. 

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad. 

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.” 

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it. 

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you. 

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear. 

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.” 

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.” 

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,” 

“There what is?” 

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?” 

“What is it, oh.” 

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical. 

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire. 

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice. 

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation. 

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.” 

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers. 

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.” 

You don’t even think about asking what he means. 

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.” 

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?” 

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”  

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static. 

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body. 

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins. 

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you. 

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you  - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago. 

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge. 

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.” 

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.” 

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs. 

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity? 

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you. 

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes. 

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name. 

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades. 

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.” 

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly. 

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.” 

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.” 

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.” 

#THIS WAS SO???? #IM FLOORED #I WANT MORE ! ! ! #tw: dark content #tw: dark themes #tw: incest #tw: grooming #tw: dubcon #sukuna ryomen x reader

[mononijikayu]

exam period is finished!!! we will go back to our regularly scheduled program!!! look forward to the new chapters!!! ill be putting a taglist form as well, so if you wanna get tagged, just hit the form!!!

#kayu thoughts ! ! ! #lets pray for the exam results to be well 🙏🙏🙏

[mononijikayu]

to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento.

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god.

note: i found an old draft of something i did and i thought it would be perfect for an angsty suguru writing, especially after rewatching fleabag. i started to joke yesterday that i'll do a suguru partner to 'time after time' and here we are now, me crying over what i made.

the final scene is inspired by the ending of fleabag. i cried through it but it really was something that triggered my heart strings. every good love story deserves a good closure when it ends. happy christmas again!!! let's hope this is my last idea in a while!!! its starting to make me cry too <333

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: to build a home by cinematic orchestra.

THEY DOESN’T KNOW WHY THEY WERE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. The mass of such a dull cup was ultimately the most significant in that moment, reminding her of the heaviness that pounded through her shoulders. While they drank, their bright eyes shot into the already icy black pools. They could feel it, the way their pulse thumping with the power only felt when a hammer slams on an anvil.

A drop of black coffee shouldn't be pouring on the surface of that gleaming white envelope, their familiar seal on the edge. Like it used to when they were younger. Their pupils constricted as the cup clicked on the surface of the little chilly plate. The question resurfaced in their mind as if it had not already been blatantly obvious to themselves.

‘Why am I so scared?’ The words echoed in their head, silently. ‘What does it matter if it spills or not? It’s just an envelope.’

Though that wasn't just any ordinary envelope. They pursued their lips as the truth revealed everything without care for a wait. They felt another flurry of child-like recklessness within them once again. For a brief moment, their warm gaze was visible. The lost purity of their youth, which they had thought to have lost long ago, had reappeared. They sighed, unsure of what to do.

The icy loneliness of the envelope's borders, as it sat calmly discarded not far away from them, made it impossible to convey to them. The soft whisper of darkened skies made it impossible to tell if it was morning. Yet within their memories, the brightness of the morning dawn has always resonated with a pleasant unattainable radiance. They couldn't sleep again today. That day kept returning to the young soul. They felt as though it was akin to another grievous reminder of those warm-hearted charcoal eyes they had once loved.

They lowered their head, almost ashamed. All they could feel inside of them was that searing anguish filling their heart with nothing but agony. There was no peace in the confines of their heart. There is no peace on those nights, even if the moon sings pleasant things to soothe her to sleep. They knew that there was nothing but horrors. He visited their dreams almost every night.

He smiled so beautifully against the shine of the moon. Like that summer night where they first kissed. They were letting all the memories they had buried haunt them. These nightmares always comprised the sweetest smiles and bitter goodbyes. The cozy bed had somehow become an opponent. It seemed as though they were wallowing in a terrible abyss of quicksand in the luxuries of their cold feather bed, with no way out. It didn't help to stay unmoving, alone in this unmade bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.

They had loved Kento enough; They truly did. But he wasn't home, he wasn't there to fill that space. To replace that emptiness, to make a home out of the numb loneliness. he was a merchant by trade. The nomad who ceaselessly took the opportunity that life had to offer. Yet he too was a serious man who took his responsibilities to the people he loved seriously as long as he could. Yet Kento was someone who had no permanence in the warmth of home. 

When he was home, it was something that still showed the gaps, the distance that had come with their degree of separation. Their little arrangement, their little life together, had once been beautiful at one point. But now all it does is make them lonely, now it makes them infuriated. Yet there was no one left to blame.

What was there to be angry about? He needed to keep what life being lived going, much of that relied on him. There was little to complain about, when they agreed about it before they had decided to become one. After all, these years had been lived in a garden of thorns. Nothing was easy.

They should be thankful he had worked at all. Others have had a harder time than them, losing  homes and the meal on the dinner table. Yet in Kento’s absence, their gaping heart was filled with those bright beaming memories of their first love. Everything about those memories were painted in vibrant pastels. Everything was so bright and new.

He smiled at them, rushing toward them direction as his dark locks spun across the pillows like a constellation weaving through the wide open sky. On those lonely nights, they did not want to think of him as much as they did. But one never forgets that long lost love. In those nights, they could not admit to anything but anguish and pointing fingers, blaming Kento for not being by their side. They wanted to blame him. It was easier that way, blaming the man they had committed to life with. 

Because they cannot stop thinking of his eyes that narrowed down at them tenderly. They couldn't get those memories out of their head, their mind craved everything about that charming man who had captured this wanting heart all those years ago. They had created quite a world, nay a universe, just for him.

Everything within that universe was devoted to cherishing, worshiping memories of that man already dried in the inked pages. But they could not help it. Geto Suguru was too hard to forget, too hard to bury in the past. When you fall in love the first time, nothing ever comes close. Nothing ever comes to be beyond the world that had embraced them for years and years.

How much they had remembered all those years of being in his strong, warm arms. The repeatedly lonesome bed trapped and bound their body and soul to the seclusion of the darkness. Their feet were firmly planted on the floor, their body towering over the diner. Arms resting upon their chest, the echoes of their heart beat unlike any other. They knew that they had no feeling of coherence. Nothing felt real, nothing felt true. Everything had been a blur—a never-ending darkness that had cleared them completely, leaving nothing but a void.

They recalled the way they had carelessly bruised themselves when they had awoken from another nightmare. Mindlessly, They walked in the dark narrow halls as quietly as they could. They did not wish to wake Kento’s father from his slumber, not when he was ill.  Their hands had been weak as they stumbled into the kitchen to get the warm water pitcher. There were no tears streaming from their weary eyes.

There was no sound from their lips, and no effort had been taken to prevent the spreading of shattered glass. They simply stared. They had no sense of sanity. There is no reality meter to gauge their consciousness. Simply as motionless as the fruit resting on the marble counter. They watched as the overflowing water pooled through the broken whole like a deluge had challenged the pieces of glass across the floor.

"Why am I doing this?" Their thin crimson lips let out a quiet whimper as they bowed their fatigued head in the heavenly air. Their brilliantly bright bonnet trailed behind them, shielding their eyes. "There's nothing else to say. I said that last time.....He was the one that said goodbye. I've been doing so great. And now….."

Yet somehow, They couldn't tear their attention away from the envelope, that begged bare fingertips for their warmth to give life to the inanimate pages of living, haunting love. To whisper those same words of affection that they had abandoned years ago, to match the fondness of the words within its frames. Their index finger marched forward, unafraid. The brightness of the platinum band on their ring finger reprimanded them in a scolding glow at that time.

They hesitated once more, their heart beating harshly against the flesh of their body. The reign of fears killed the resolute strength within them. They bite tenderly at their lower lip in anxious softness. They had made their peace with everything a long time ago, at least that is what they said. So there was no reason to be misled, to be misled by feelings settled in the corner of the mind’s palace. The shadows of their face reverberate like a ghost that begs to be finally laid to rest as the light weakly glows.

Yet, just like a wandering phantom wishing for relief, They realize that this was heaven’s bestowed fate. To be bound to the barren earth with the haunting memories of the life that had been lived like a gramaphone on repeat. To travel through the life they may have had, to torment her like her into a never-ending misery-like haunting bestiality. A never-ending hell that never ends.

Moving steadily, They held her hands into a chain, They felt the unending chill that only winter could provide. Is this how it has been for all this time since they split up? Have they truly been this miserable? Have they truly abandoned themselves to the abyss of grief, of longing? Of yearning for something that will never return? 

The spring they had loved has yielded to winter, its vivacity has long since faded. They knew that too well. But they could not help but return to spring in long locked away memories. That spring was where they can admit they had been the happiest. The truest to themselves. Because he was there.

It was because Geto Suguru had been the melody of that song through the truth of the heart.  Suguru's youth belonged to them. As much as they knew that their own youth belonged to him. That spring was for the two of them to own, only theirs and no one else’s. Greedily, that’s what they believed.

Those blooming flowers formed their gentle smile and made their heart pulse with the thrill that came with young love. It was the way he laughed so boyishly as he raced the length of the flower fields. Their eager gaze followed him, the wind eager to dance across those flower fields. The crinkle of mischief  drifts through the sky to mingle with the beam of rainbow lights.

The lark eyed young man looked at them as though it was like sunflower beams. The loving words seemingly flowed out like lovely echoes of hummingbird melodies. There had been the sweet touch of hands wrapped around them with such happiness, the delight of being together as the sound of the river's quiet whistles. 

It all came flooding home, that mellow breeze that led their love, in each and every moment they traveled the paths they had taken, arms locked together. Nobody had an inkling. Not even their parents. The spring dalliance, that became so much bigger of a world than anything else, was all their own. 

It had been the perfect love, belonging to the two of them. The only one they had told had been their uncle Yaga. He took pity on a broken soul, they knew. Those eyes filled with such wrestling grief. That conflict, that wanting, that yearning. He knew it too well. It was his kindness that allowed her to escape Tokyo after Suguru parted from them, to save her from growing mad.

Away from those dark eyes that continued to watch over them in the distance. Those lark bright that only mourned him just as much as they did. There was an echo in their soul which reached out to him, spoke in such a terrible voice; a voice they didn't even remember having. It had been so loud and angry. Yet Suguru merely smiled at them, ever so mournful as theirs was.

'I mourn the person we once were,” He whispered to them in the tender gaze of the altar, looking at them as their voice echoed in the basilica's bright glass windows. “Such brilliant splendor that’s long past us now, my love.”

They could not help but feel melancholy about remembering the spring.  They had come to hate it, even Kento just knew. Barely leaving their studio, abandoning the sight of warm blossoms of roses across the neighbor's front lawn. They decided to have to care for it any longer. It was too fleeting. Too young, too eager. Things that they were no longer. Spring provides us with a small sliver of careless youth.

The flowers in that spring bloomed, as did the love they both thought was impossible. However, spring must always give way to the beginning of fall. It was now October, and the hardest rain was anxiously awaiting freezing into the hammering winter cold. One in which They had come to be caged in. Like dragons of old who lived in caves in the abandon of endless silence. Alone to dwell on what was and what could have been in the present, which only deepens their agony.

It was the most heartbreaking moment of their existence. To watch the etches of their fair face contort to grief, to fear and to tears. The tears they had wished they had never come to shed. Suguru had been the one to tell them, to relay those words that ripped them apart like a harsh ocean wave rushing through.

The words of their father, the words of a man who used the woman he said he loved like a chess piece. To further his rise to the top of politics. They had been young then, when their father had bragged of doing such a thing. Of hurting their mother like it was a holy act in the eyes of god. 

When Suguru informed them that he cannot be with them any longer, they were taken back to that memory of their father. That heartache that shattered the dreams of a child. Nothing was absolute in the world, not even love. Not the way they had wanted. Not the way Suguru desired. It was to be a sin, a sin that would go against the word of the holy book he considered ever so sacred. 

It was Suguru’s path, he told them so clearly, hammered with familiar hurt—one that reminded them of their own grief. The two of them sat on the bed they used to sleep in together, the sunshine dulled by the venomous dark clouds which had gathered to see such a scene. But they remembered the distance that had formed in the sky. They remembered how warmly the tears of parting fell, one after another like the pouring rain. The warmth of the pillows grew cold with the solemn shadow of their own body. 

As they sat there immobilized, their eyes began to echo bloodshot red. Their habitually loud voice was hushed into soundless sobs for a short time — they had no words to say. All that passed through their mind couldn't seem to understand, to register this new reality that was now happening. It hadn't occurred to them how everything had morphed towards something they didn't wish to be a part of. A life they did not want to change forever. It was worse to wait, to watch for him to turn to them and be reminded that they could not be together any longer. 

It felt like they were walking towards their shallow grave. They could not do it, couldn’t deal with it any longer. He did not want to be miserable, as much as they didn’t. Being together until that moment felt like a dream, and now it is a nightmare. Yet remembering, repeating those phrases, those words, felt like they burned in flames. They felt like they burned every inch of their flesh into ash. It was the feeling of being poured into a wild sea to be swallowed by an agitated wave , to drown in everything. Suguru whispered those words in the past tense, tears pouring from his eyes.

Those words they hated, over and over. The value of those whispers of ‘i love you’ in repeated order, followed by buts and excuses, by deviation, by cancellation, by subtraction. They etched in these fragile veins and poisoned them to death. It was a curse, to love. And yet it continued, as easily as breathing. Those words had made a fool of them, laughing at them. And They would never be the same again. There was nothing left for fools. Nothing. 

“But you love god.” They whispered back, brows furrowing into sorrow. “More than you love me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of their hair, smiling ever so apologetically. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Suguru had left that flat the next day, a letter left on the counter along with the keys. The nooks and corners empty, from where he hid his variety of morning tea to the little books he would read as the sun would rise to greet them. They stood frozen, staring at what had remained. The flat was cold, so dreadfully cold. They just stared, with their eyes burning in pain and crimson shine from the tears that would not stop pouring. They did not take it well.

They'd flung aside the blankets that had filled with muted tones of their disheveled look, scrambling across their face like a hurricane. They didn't want to think about it. They didn’t want to be reminded of it. Yet all there was left was reminders. Nothing but ruins in the once great space that was their own. That life no longer materialized into being, not here. As lonely as the dead trees, stripped of the foliage that once decorated their twigs. Life cannot exist where there is no sun, life cannot exist without the warmth of water, nor can it exist without the oxygen in their lungs. There was none here. Nothing was here, other than barren life.

Moving into a modest shack of an apartment in the far out districts of Tokyo, nearer to the other prefectures than anything else. Uncle Yaga was the one that had suggested it to them, as it had been far enough from the capital. It was a new perspective, a new sign of life — one that could perhaps heal them. He told them that he had once sought refuge in the far flung district’s vibrant feel, having departed himself once more in his nomadic pleasures. They had been blessed by his suggestion.

The bright street lamps comforted them at night. The sight of morning air that came through had been a gentle kiss on their welcoming of that first lonely sunrise. There was a buzz of excitement that filled them as they watched different people stroll the streets every day, suitcases in hand and speaking different tongues. They all were hoping,  gathering  their strength to start a new life, just as they had. In a manner, they were maintained by this encounter every day. In a sense, it made them feel like they weren't the only one going towards a new chapter in life. They were not alone for the first time in a long time. 

Though uncle Yaga sent money regularly, they too were able to find some work. It had helped them somewhat, the world still reeling from the financial disaster that had recently plagued the nation. They have been able to save enough money recently. And in those times, they had come to be interested in pottery. They seem to notice the solace of it, having watched some locals make clay pots for their meals and as gifts. Soon enough, they wanted to try it all out. They had been eager to find the materials.

But they did not know where to start, unable to find the ones that they liked enough to suit the ideas They had in their head to come to life. A small sigh passes their lips. They had the confidence to think that learning would be easy, but it had not been. But They had been glad to have this moment to start something new. A new hobby meant a new life. And a new life meant moving forward. Life finally goes on.

On that cold winter morning in January, they met an old man who had come from central Tokyo only a few months before. He had moved to the city a while ago, he said. To be closer to his son who had become his carer. Having suffered burns across his body after an accident had happened in his home, his only child had been wanting to take care of his father so that he would not be alone.

They had been surprised about him. He was an intelligent man, but he was stern and rarely smiled, often in heavy bouts of pain. But they do not blame him. His burns had not completely healed. Often, it was only morphine that could put him to rest. 

They met the old man’s son soon enough. Their neighbor, Nanami Kento, had been kind to them when they first met. It had all begun when they had struggled with their  purchases from the market and he had been willing to lend a hand. He had always smiled at them with his thin lips, blossoming craters upon his cheeks.

He was a beautiful man, with his light blond hair and his soft brown eyes. They were nearly the same height, but it did not perturb him. Still, there were corners they could not reach, even with their height. Kento had been the one to help them, reaching forward so devotedly. 

It was obvious that he had been a bigger man in a frame than them, though. Kento’s father had bragged about it, certainly. They could see Kento’s cheeks redden ever so brightly. They could only find themselves laughing along with Kento’s father as he reacted even more expressively. For a while, Kento had kept them company as time went by. That had soothed them and kindly given them something to look forward to. From the friendship that blossomed, they had found something they had longed to have in a long time — a true laugh.

There had not been any interaction with the two of them, for a time after that. Kento admitted to them that for a while, he pondered if he should continue developing affinity with them. When they allowed him to continue to explore the depth of that warmth between them, Kento had been certain to be nothing but good to them. 

He respected them too much, giving them much more than any one, even Suguru, had afforded them. When they talked, there was not a semblance of awkwardness. Not once did they feel any dull moments hit the tune they danced to. It had been easy to just be with him. The burdens did not exist in his every touch, not even in his gazes. The warmth of his embraces had enraptured their cold body, eager for the warmth of someone’s care.

That made them feel relieved, to not be alone any longer. There was comfort in someone’s kindness and truthfulness. From then on, they had always been aided by him. That’s why they had felt as though they too would like to return the favor, taking the responsibility of taking care of his father when they had the time to do so.

They had conversed with him when the older man had no company in the apartment’s commune. Kento had sent them a telegram saying that he would be home later tonight, but the trains had a mishap.They had switched his reserved seat for another day and it took a while to fix with the officers of the train.

As such, Kento asked them to take care of his father till he returned. They had no qualms with doing so, having a day off that day. Besides, Kento had told them that his father had been melancholic after his mother had passed. His father needed someone and they were willing to step forward to be that someone.

They had not known the language he was now speaking, the deep thick accent of his words befuddled from the hale of medication he was taking. It did not seem he understood what they were saying in reply either. Yet during the times that he did, it had made them warm inside. Today seemed like a good day, where they responded back to them. 

Today, he seemed to know what they had been saying though, smiling when they told him good things that happened at the market this morning. But for the most part, they created a language through actions. At least when the older man had been capable. But most days, the two of them sat to enjoy the day. Just by sitting together to enjoy the warmth of the small fireplace in their apartment. It was enough to have someone.

Kento’s father had been someone who had been interested in pottery, as far as teaching it for years when he had been a younger man in the capital’s finest schools. Kento had told themthat it had been part of their family’s history, as his grandfather had been a historian who studied the history of their family’s hometown. His father had become intrigued by the pots and vases they would find, eventually deciding to focus on such studies and practice.

It piqued their interest, for the most part, watching Kento’s father tell them ceramics he had taken with him from all the places he had come to work when he was able. Most clearly on days when the morphine had not overtaken him. Some he had made by hand, practicing methods that had long been gone and reviving them one motion at a time. But now they were only stories, his body no longer able to do as he wished, in particular, took her interest. Bright golden streaks echoed through the plate like golden rain, wonderfully varnished with nothing but the finest finish. When they turned a moment later to ask, they had gotten the reply.

“That had been from the days of old.” Kento’s father whispered to them, gazing at them with a small smile. “They called it kintsugi, young one.” 

Their eyes gazed at him questioningly. “What is that?”

The old man gazed at them with warm almond eyes and smiled at her, speaking. “Something that is broken being fixed with gold, child. To be whole again. It is a kindness, an echo of beauty. A new life.”

For a moment they blinked, stunned that he had gathered himself in his chair with a painful groan.

 “A new life?”

The old man smiled at her once more, faintly this time. “All that is broken — is not truly broken. It is just waiting to find a way to be alive again. That is why they used to fix it with gold. Life for the broken can be golden too. There is always a new path to walk on again, young child.”

That moment made their heart flutter, almost as if they had been waiting their whole entire existence for those words to be said to them. Warm words of simple solace were sometimes more than the warmth of the fire crackling in the room. It was the most genuine warmth against the winter. Tears streamed down their cheeks. They could only whisper, "Thank you." 

Ever since then, they had come to be fond of the artistry of kintsugi—pooling as much as they could to the devotion of new passions. It was a new life they had been living, excitement pumped through veins. In these two years, they had ended up getting lessons from Kento’s father on pottery when he was able to instruct. It had been a pleasant time, having to spend carelessly after work in the wonderful pool of stories, of myths, and of time gone by that had suddenly made them forget about the mournful heartbreak.

When he was in too much pain, they nursed him to rest and afterwards, continued to do as they pleased with learning the art of the pottery. The wind that cooled their body from the open window had been refreshing, the exhaustion of work pondering their body. It had been for a new exhibition, one that had come after the other. It had been something that had surprised them, that such skillful artistry would become the wholeness of their current life. But it fulfilled them, it had filled the gaps they had with gold—to live again as they had always had. Forward.

In a moment as they dipped their hands in the cold pools in the bowl, they did not remember how lost they had been when the already gone had seeped through. It had been pouring lately, but it had been expected, especially as their quarter was always affected by the autumn rains. Pursing their lips, the young soul could only sigh as they saw the roof still dripping from last night’s wistful rain.

It had always slipped their mind, to tell Kento about the leaking roof. But it could not be helped as they gazed at the open window. They would tell him when he gets home from work, he would fix it. Leaning forward, they watched what remained of the rain pour through. 

For a moment, their mind explored the corner it always returns to. The smile on her lips as they chased them, playing those childish games. The cold rains were heavily drenching their Sunday dresses, readying for church. But those lark eyes did not care.

No, they were paved with mischief. They were a wildfire, burning through with his loud laughter. Those were happy moments, their memories whispered, Memories that yearned for him, that adored him. Urging them to open her heart once again, to love the ghost haunting them. That moving forward should mean loving what was already passed.

No, now at this moment — they shook their head. They will not go back to those memories. They will not. They felt happy. This was their life now, their new life. And they are doing well. They are happy, even. Happier than ever before. They felt content in the already small space crowding in the wonder of sketches across the battered walls.

The round table is full of drying plaster vases, letting the hot sun beckon it frozen in the summer heat. The smell of charcoal gathered across their blackened fingers, as they rubbed them against the planned design. At that moment, the new path had become dipped in gold. And for that, they were grateful. There was no need. No need to return .

But when the night came, they nearly dropped the envelope.

Kento had returned, placing a kiss upon the temple of their head.

Their left hand over their lips, the ring echoing a tender promise.

‘Had Yaga give me up to him?’ They panicked, their heart beating wildly. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that to me…..But still, how did he?…’

“Are you alright?” Kento lowered his gaze at his lover, questioning them. For a moment he was worried. They had been tearing up, still staring at the letter. Putting his soft hands against their shoulder, the shine of the ring finger beckoned against the early dawn. “‘Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” They whispered to him, wiping away their tears, and tore the envelope and threw it in the bin. “It was nothing.”

His gaze beckoned towards the bin and then to them. “Are you sure? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“No, it was just an advert. Nothing important.” They gave him a small smile to reassure him. But his eyes could see that the light in his lover’s eyes was dim. “Selling me those ridiculously expensive silver pots again.”

“I see.” He did not want to overwhelm his lover by asking. He pursed his lips and turned to them, putting his hands on their face. Rubbing their cheeks, he tried to comfort them with his touch.

But they turned their face slightly away from him. “It’s just that. It’s not that important.”

The fondness across his lips deepened. “You don’t have to buy them, you know. I know you hate them. But I suppose the ad may be telling us something. I’ll take you, we’ll buy you something. Even if it's not the silver pots. You need to treat yourself, love. Tell me. I’ll buy it for you.”

“I just….” They could not find the words to say. Their heart beating fast, They clutched their hands onto it as though to beg for it to stop. “I’ll decide later….it could just be another waste of money, you know?”

He shook his head laughing. “Spoiling you, making you smile. It will never be a waste of money, you got it?”

They pierced their lips in a tender line and then smiled, nodding.

He sighed softly, satisfied. Kento put his hands on their shoulders and then their arms. Moving close to them, he allowed his body to caress them. They had rested their head onto his shoulders, quietly accepting his comfort. They had stayed that way for a while, Kento knowing he would have to leave in a couple of minutes. 

He indulged himself to comfort them at this time when he would not see them for a couple of days at most. He needed to be with them. In all times he can be there, he will be. It was the least he could do, after being so far away from them all this time. He loved them with all his heart, after all. When they had parted, he grabbed his coat and put his hat on. He turned to them, smiling widely at them. Her fingers played at the texture of his trench coat. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I would not want to miss dinner with your uncle.” He tells them, caressing his lover’s long spread of hair tenderly. “I’ll hurriedly finish work and come straight home, hm? I’ll bring some flowers too.”

They let out a small laugh. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He kissed the edge of their temple and then their cheek before they separated once again. Finally, he gathered his lips around theirs and softly hugged them. They peered into one other's eyes, before they laughed. Kento whispered his goodbyes and heard them say farewell. When they had closed the door, reality shook her to its core. It had his name on the mail, written as sender. It had been Suguru's name. They hurried to the bin, opening it and taking the torn letter. 

Tears streamed down in their eyes as they realized that the wound had reopened. The shadows of the past had come and rushed like a flood, like a sudden thunder from the skies. They had been found once more, they had been yearned for. Suguru had written to them. After all this time, he wanted them.

They stared at the torn letter and burst into a sob, guttural almost like an animal’s wild cries. In a soundless fall of their body on the floor, heavy tears surged like an infinite wave of ripping currents. Their arms shook as they clutched themselves, gathering over their shoulder blades.

All the emotions they had felt at the time, and yet still felt, hurried back to them like lightning striking the soil over and over.  Everything had returned. All that they had buried within the back of their mind. All that they had fought to bury six feet under, they had all but risen from the dead.  They couldn’t stop themselves from embracing the cuts of the envelope as though they were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

Suguru’s name echoed in the bits and pieces of shredded paper. After all this time, he still remembered them. After all this time, there was still that wanting, that forbidden desire. But it would never happen now. After putting Kento’s father into bed and aided him to sleep that night,their restless abandon in the pool of recalling tears called them awake. 

And here in this lonesome space, with this torn letter — this torn letter that shouldn’t even exist. Suguru was now living his dream, his destiny, his duty. There were children laughing every day in the choir of the church. Satoru still visits, sometimes with Shoko. Suguru had taken in twin girls in the church, adopting them after their parents had left them at the steps of the large gates. He was living his dream, he had his life now. His life was now fulfilled. Full of the newfound hope and laughter. 

Geto Suguru should be doing well. He was happy. He said as much in his appointment at the church. They were there, a witness as his dreams tore apart years of a home built in each other. Suguru smiled at them from all the way in the back. They choked a sob and stood, leaving. It was enough, seeing him then. Dazzling in the bright golden crucifix on his chest and the most beautiful black robes and that mantle of yellow–gold. That had been enough of a scene, that should have been the ending of those pictures in the theater. That should have been the end.

 ‘But his dark lark-like eyes. His eyes were grieving you.’

Reeling in a moment of rewind, the words in the card makes them feel like they were going to burst into tears once again. Suguru had become one with god, become one with the divine, with the duty of the sacred. That world is treating him well. They prayed every day, in the silence of their repeating days, that he would always be well. That he’ll always be healthy.

That he would always be happy. That god would always favor him. They knew that god would always be kind, god will always be merciful, god would grant their prayers. They knew that. After all, god has taught love. And in their heart, there was only love for the man that had made her feel what love truly looks like.  

There was that day, that day in central Tokyo, when Kento had brought them for a day out with his father. They were going to visit his mother’s grave. In the markets, they walked and talked. Deciding what to give in offering to the temple and then to his mother. Yet it caught their eye immediately. The same long tresses of hair, as charcoal as the night.

The same sound of laughter echoing from the distance. Dark priestly robes beckoned his body, kind words poured through the sanctity of his lips. Behind him were two young girls, dressed in long dresses, trailing behind him so tenderly. Silver crosses were on their necks, a gift no doubt from the priestly man, the godly man, that had taken them in.

The two girls shared the same shine, same passion in their eyes as Suguru does. Jolly in the tenderness, they were so beautiful in the morning sun. They felt their heart break at the sight, as they lowered their parasol and let the sight be gone. For the past to just be the past. For life to move forward. It was better that way. For the two of them. It was better to forget than remember. Yet, that’s what they did.

They had wept ever so silently all night when they returned home, trying their hardest to not be seen by their lover. They did not want Kento to worry. They did not want to trouble him in his sleep. They did not want to cause more suffering. Not for them, not for the memory of the long lost love they knew Kento could never replace. There must not be anymore reminiscing, there must not be anymore yearning. There must not be any more curiosity. 

‘I don’t miss you.’ They whispered to their restless heart as they wept. ‘I do not miss you.’

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god. 

Their hands grasped the envelope with a trembling breath. They chewed at their thin lips even more as they trembled and felt the tears flood. They looked at the envelope with eyes shaking, too unwilling to say goodbye. A harsh cry came from them as the shaking hands clasped together, cutting through the coherence to incomprehensible fragments that would never be whole again.

They gathered them in their hands and stood, allowing the tears to pour. They shut their eyes once They reached the bin, as if they were mourning a death. Even after these many years, perhaps they will always mourn. This was a tragic death that will never be forgotten. A death that would haunt them for the rest of their life. They apologized as they stared at the bits, whispering those words of devoted love that had long been banished from her lips. 

They cried Suguru’s name repeatedly, at each repetition, it was almost like a prayer more than anything else. Those words of love died as much as their beloved Suguru’s name did in each round of breath. They said tearful goodbyes, each and every time. They murmured the parting words of her love. They watched as their body moved on its own and flung them aside moments later.

They put their gloves back on their hands and their bonnet back on their small head as they paid for their drink in eerie silence. The staff had not been there, but they left the payment anyway. The tears dried sooner than later, and their heart had no more space to become even more numb at each pang of the ache. But it was all for the best. 

Kento’s father will be walking soon, and they needed to arrange breakfast for him. They felt the frigid wind surge through their shrouded bodies as they strolled through the dimly lit streets, and They pondered if it was god above comforting them, just as Suguru used to say. They wondered if all would ever be okay. That they were pleased with what they had done.

Their lips let out a forlorn sigh as they slid their hands into the sleeves of their coat. They took a deep breath and started to walk home, the echoes of their footsteps merging with the silent cries of their heart. Memories of love, now tinged with the bittersweet hues of what once was.

“It was nothing.” They whispered to the calm air, convincing themselves. “It was just what it was in the end.”

They smiled and paused as they saw a falling star.

“I’m living well, Suguru.”

“I’m glad to know that.”

They turned their head up as they halted, under the light.

Their mouth opened as the dark eyed priest smiled at them.

He still looked so beautiful, especially now, under the moonlight.

They halted, facing each other, and the dim light revealed the lines etched by time on Suguru's face. It must have been a moment of peace for Suguru, his steps measured and deliberate, a silent echo of the morning rituals he once shared with them. He always loved walking, embracing the fresh air as the world awoke. The memory of those quiet mornings lingered, a haunting reminder of a love that once flourished like the flowers touched by the first light of dawn.

As Suguru drew closer, the streetlamp cast a glow upon the contours of his face, revealing the weariness that came with the weight of his choices. His eyes, reflective pools of regret and nostalgia, met theirs, and for a moment, time stood still. The priestly robes draped around him seemed to carry the burden of unspoken confessions and silent prayers.

He had seemed all grown up, his hair longer than it had been all those years ago. Yet, he was still whom they knew. The person they had loved the most in the world. Their very heart, right in front of them, as though they had never parted. 

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Suguru smiled at the sound of their voice, his steps slowing as if time itself had granted them a brief moment of suspended reality. The street lamp flickered, casting dancing shadows that played across his somber features. His eyes, once filled with the warmth of shared memories, now held a distant recognition.

"Long time no see," they whispered, the words escaping their lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.

Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken. 

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them.

Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Geto Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them. 

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh escaped Suguru's lips, a fragile exhale carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetl amp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, as if attempting to breach the invisible barrier between them.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure.

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, the truth echoing through the hallowed space between them.

The night embraced them, a silent witness to the intricate dance of emotions beneath the flickering street lamp. Time seemed to stand still, allowing the echoes of a love both tender and tormented to reverberate through the quiet air, wrapping around them like a shroud of nostalgia.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words hanging in the cool night air, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, with a melancholic smile that held the depth of a thousand shared sunsets, replied, "I know."

His words, a testament to the silent understanding that had weathered the storms of time, painted a canvas of their shared history.

A brief yet profound moment passed between them, a communion of souls familiar with the artistry of sorrow. They exchanged sad smiles, acknowledging the pain that dwelled beneath the surface—a tapestry woven with the threads of what was and what could never be again.

"But you'll never leave God, won't you?" they asked, the words hanging in the air like a sacred hymn, a melody of unspoken truths that resonated through the silence.

Suguru, his gaze drifting to the ground like a fallen prayer, nodded with a heaviness that only a man torn between earthly desires and divine duty could understand. 

"Yeah," he confessed, his voice a fragile melody that cracked with the weight of the choices he bore.

A bitter laugh escaped them, a bitter acknowledgment of the cosmic joke that played with the strings of their fate. "Damn."

"I'm sorry," Suguru whispered, the words carrying the weight of unspoken regrets, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

Suguru listened in the gentle embrace of the night, the words hanging in the air like a delicate confession of the heart. The flickering street lamp cast a soft glow on their faces, revealing the vulnerability etched in the lines of their expressions.

“I’ve never felt so homeless,” they admitted, their voice a poignant melody that resonated with the ache of a displaced soul. A somber laugh escaped them, a fragile release of emotion that danced on the precipice of tears. "To be without the person that made me feel like life can be a home. It’s as if I’ve been taught how to build a home, and then it's just, in ruins.”

Suguru, his eyes reflecting the constellations of shared pain, nodded in solemn understanding. The weight of their words echoed through the silent night, the gravity of loss settling like a heavy fog.

“It's a peculiar kind of emptiness,” he mused, his voice a low murmur, as if joining the nocturnal conversation with the whispers of the wind. "To have known the warmth of a home, only to find it reduced to ruins. The echoes of what was linger in the cracks, haunting the spaces that once held promises."

The person's gaze, a reflection of a universe in turmoil, met Suguru's.

"You were my home," they confessed, the words carrying the weight of unspoken dreams and the fragments of a life that now lay in ruins.

Suguru, his heart heavy with the acknowledgment of what had been lost, replied, "And you were mine." His voice, a gentle breeze that carried the scent of nostalgia, painted the canvas of their shared memories. "You'll always be."

"I know." They replied back, pointing to the middle of their chest. "You'll always find your way into a house here too."

The night wrapped around them, a silent witness to the unraveling of a love that had once been the cornerstone of their existence. The street lamp flickered, casting a dance of shadows on the remnants of their shared dreams, now scattered like stardust in the cosmic expanse.

As they stood beneath the dim glow, Suguru reached out, a silent offering of solace in the face of their shared homelessness. The person, their eyes brimming with unshed tears, accepted the gesture, a fragile connection in the midst of ruins.

"It's okay not to have all the answers," Suguru whispered, his words a gentle reassurance, a beacon of understanding in the night. "Sometimes, the process of rebuilding begins with acknowledging the ruins."

"Did you do the same?"

He laughs somberly.

"I'll still have to learn to. Just like you." He whispers back to them, tilting his head at them. "It's often hard, when you love someone so much. There's too much to want, too much to remember. But also too much to forget."

They pursed their lips at him.

"Do you want to forget me?"

He shakes his head.

"No. Never."

They dug deeper into their pockets.

"You know, the worst thing is, after all this time, I don't think I've stopped loving you," they confessed, the admission tearing at the seams of their heart like a love letter written on the pages of time. "I still love you. Even if I have someone to love now, I still love you."

There was panic in his eyes for a moment. As though those three words being said paralyzed him. As though they compelled him. The mere three words echoing in his ears made him feel as though he would break covenant to god the moment he heard them. He would sin and he would sin knowing his heart would not be guided by reason. Love after all, does not have reason. Love is just love.

Suguru, looking at them with eyes that mirrored the reflection of constellations, pleaded, "No, no, don't."

"Let's just leave that out there just for a second on its own," they said, a brief huff following as they gathered the shattered remnants of their composure. "It needs to be said, one last time."

Suguru, resigned to the bitter reality that hung between them like a faded photograph, nodded with a quiet acceptance. He offered a smile, fragile as porcelain. "Alright."

"I love you," they declared, the words a sacred offering hung in the air, a requiem for a love that refused to be extinguished, a melody that echoed through the chambers of their shared history.

Suguru, offering a tender smile, whispered, "It'll pass."

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had danced with the fleeting nature of love, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who is still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

There is still a home, built the soul of those you love.

They walked away, they couldn’t help smiling through the tears.

There’s always going to be that home, made just for each other.

They live on together, small crevices of the soul just for each other.

They'll be fine.

Suguru would be fine.

They'll always build a home.

Together.

[mononijikayu]

night we met — ryomen sukuna.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

listen: the night we met by lord huron

note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~

FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.

This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.

As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.

You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.

Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.

You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.

Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.

Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.

Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.

This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.

As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”

You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”

Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”

You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.

Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.

“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”

“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."

Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”

Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”

IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.

The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.

Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.

It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.

As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.

Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.

As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.

The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.

“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.

“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”

You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.

The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”

Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.

There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.

As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”

You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.

The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.

Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.

With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.

As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.

Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.

The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.

Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.

You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.

"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."

The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."

Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.

"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.

"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”

“Uncle—”

“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt. 

"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."

Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.

"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."

Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires. 

"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”

“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”

“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”

“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.” 

Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”

"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”

Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."

You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.

As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.

You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.

Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts. 

"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."

As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features.  His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions. 

As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.

You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak. 

As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.

HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.

The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.

This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.

As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.

"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.

However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.

Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.

As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.

As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.

"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.

In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.

The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.

"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.

When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.

Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.

"I’ll give you one," you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.

You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was.  Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.

"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”

The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.

For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.

"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.

Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."

The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.

"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”

He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.

Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.

You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.

As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.

[mononijikayu]

night we met — ryomen sukuna.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

listen: the night we met by lord huron

note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~

FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.

This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.

As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.

You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.

Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.

You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.

Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.

Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.

Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.

This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.

As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”

You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”

Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”

You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.

Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.

“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”

“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."

Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”

Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”

IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.

The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.

Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.

It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.

As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.

Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.

As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.

The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.

“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.

“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”

You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.

The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”

Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.

There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.

As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”

You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.

The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.

Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.

With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.

As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.

Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.

The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.

Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.

You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.

"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."

The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."

Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.

"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.

"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”

“Uncle—”

“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt. 

"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."

Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.

"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."

Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires. 

"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”

“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”

“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”

“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.” 

Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”

"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”

Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."

You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.

As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.

You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.

Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts. 

"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."

As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features.  His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions. 

As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.

You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak. 

As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.

HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.

The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.

This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.

As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.

"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.

However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.

Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.

As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.

As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.

"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.

In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.

The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.

"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.

When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.

Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.

"I’ll give you one," you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.

You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was.  Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.

"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”

The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.

For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.

"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.

Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."

The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.

"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”

He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.

Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.

You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.

As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.

#icymi ! ! ! #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader

[mononijikayu]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the biggest regret of your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya@pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

#OP I AM FLOORED ! ! ! #THE DESPERATION IN HIM ? ? ? #OH THAT WAS SO HEARTBREAKING #i loved every moment of this series ! ! ! #thank you for your hard work 🙏

[mononijikayu]

ashes of love — ryomen sukuna.

there was never one more devout to anyone than ryomen sukuna was to ryomen hiromi. he obeyed no one than his lady. before he was a king, he was devout follower. he had at one point had a goddess to worship.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

note: this is a side story to us and them, which i am working on and will publish again soon~ i have to edit it too!!! despite the fact that our main character is now given a name, i'll be using the terms you, she/her and hiromi's name to try and tell the story as a little bit more flexibly~ posting this and coming back with the upcoming chapter next weekend!!! thank you~

the ryomen double heron

"Famine ravaged all through the land then," Hiromi began, elegant voice carrying the weight of history, "People were dying from hunger. The water wells were in drought. It was then that two herons appeared before Ryomen Shigemitsu, leading him to the people in need. Famine stopped with time, and the people welcomed him. His legacy is this on that flag above us."

Sukuna listened intently, his gaze fixed on Hiromi's face. There was pride in the way you spoke. You smiled ever so gently. To Sukuna, you were beautiful like this. He could see the light in your eyes that he wants to keep there for all your life.

"The double heron has been a symbol of resilience and compassion for generations," Hiromi continued, eyes alight with reverence for her family's legacy. "And now, it's up to us to uphold that legacy—to be beacons of light in the darkness, just as Shigemitsu- sama was all those years ago."

Sukuna felt his mind wander to thoughts of his own identity. He felt like a stranger in this world, a creature of darkness amidst the light of Hiromi's noble lineage. His mother's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of his supposed destiny—to fail, to disappoint, to be a monster. He was a creature of horrors. His face falls flat to contorted darkness.

Lost in his thoughts, Sukuna's gaze fell to the ground, his heart heavy with doubt and uncertainty. He fears he would fail you. He fears he would bring ruin to you and to the Ryomen. He was a curse, a curse and he couldn't understand how he could be honorable as you. But before he could spiral further into despair, Hiromi's gentle hand reached out, flicking his forehead lightly.

"Hey, don't overthink it," You said with a warm smile, bright eyes filled with kindness. For a moment, he wonders what he did in his life to deserve how you treated him in your life. "You're not alone, Sukuna. I believe in you."

Sukuna's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He had never dared to hope that someone like Hiromi could have faith in him, could see beyond the darkness that seemed to define his existence.

"But… I…" he stammered, at a loss for words.

Hiromi's head shakes lightly, your smile unwavering. "No buts," you insisted. "I know you're capable of great things, Sukuna. You're not defined by your past or your fears. You have the power to forge your own destiny, and I'll be here every step of the way, cheering you on."

In that moment, Sukuna felt a glimmer of hope ignite within him, dispelling the shadows of doubt that had clouded his mind. With Hiromi's unwavering belief by his side, he felt a newfound sense of purpose stirring within his soul—a determination to rise above his fears and prove himself worthy of her faith.

And as they sat together beneath the moonlit sky, Sukuna made a silent vow to himself—to stand tall, to fight against the darkness, and to make Hiromi proud.

Records and History of the Ryomen Clan

an ode to my mother, lady hiromi of the ryomen clan.

to my descendants, read carefully and thread carefully.

this is for your eyes to seek only, descendant of hiromi.

do not let this fall in ryomen sukuna's hands.

mikoto masuyo.

両面 of Hida Province

bound to serve, further and beyond.

household of ryomen isamu

: ̗̀➛ his lady wife, fujiwara akiko

: ̗̀➛ his daughter and heir, ryomen hiromi

: ̗̀➛ his eldest and deceased son, ryomen akimu

: ̗̀➛ his brother, ryomen hiramu

: ̗̀➛ adopted son of hiramu, ryomen sukuna

: ̗̀➛ retainer and heir of the mikoto clan, mikoto masaomi

there is no certainty of who ryomen sukuna was before he met lady hiromi. but it was certain that he had found a purpose to live in that moment. he lived to serve his goddess.

You reached out your hand to his.

His eyes blinked.

You smiled at him tenderly.

"Are you alright, young one?"

In that fleeting moment, the boy found himself captivated by the tender lady's presence. You seemed to radiate an ethereal aura, your every essence imbued with a sense of otherworldly beauty. The soft glow of the lanterns bathed your features in a warm, gentle light, casting an enchanting halo around your form.

And then there were your eyes—pools of warmth and compassion that drew him in, their depths revealing a wellspring of kindness and understanding. In those moments when your gazes met, he felt as though you could see straight through him, peering into the depths of his soul with an unwavering sense of empathy.

It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting encounter that left an indelible mark on his heart. In that moment, long before he knew Hiromi's name, he saw not just someone above him, but a guiding light—a beacon of hope in his world shrouded in darkness. And as he reached out to take your hand, he knew that this chance meeting would forever alter the course of his destiny.

"What's your name?"

He did not reply.

You smiled wider at him.

"It's okay if you have no name."

He looks up to you, eyes widened.

"I'll give you one."

SCROLLS OF RECORDS, IN ORDER;

➛ night flower

— sukuna knows, even thousands of years later, that he would recognize you even in stone. ➛ the night we met

— when you smiled at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night.

➛ a walk — sukuna realized that you don't sleep as well as you wanted. you were plagued with nightmares, ones he can never truly know. yet sukuna thinks, the monster he is robs you of those nightmares at times, when he stands by your side under the moonlight.

➛ too sweet

— in that moment, he thinks he understood it very well. you deserve someone as sweet as you. one that would love you better than he could. but he knew he was addicted to your sweet taste. he liked things bitter, he liked things as they are. but not with you. never with you. ➛ water is fine

— hiramu is right, if he's thinking about it. blood may be thicker than water, but sukuna need only close his eyes and they'd feel the same. he had never known to belong before. he didn't know how to express it all. but being a ryomen is all he had. you were all he had. even if you'll never belong to him. the water is fine, so long its with you. ➛ as the world caves in

— sukuna doesn't know what to do as he knelt beside you, wrapping your weary around your shaking legs. nor does he know how to dry your tears. the rain kept pouring, crying for him the tears he can't shed. and he remained with you, he remained despite all you had lost to the flames of cruelty. ➛ hongyeon

— ryomen sukuna knew that he had to survive here. to cultivate all his hatred, his anguish, his grief; just so he can return to you. there was no other choice. he needs to be the monster that he'd always been, he needs to be the cruel beast. he needs to be strong. he needs to protect you. so you would never suffer again. ➛ akuma no ko

— even with tears in your eyes, you still were still spring. yet he would never be able to put it into words. even if these words could be translated to life, they would never capture the true meaning wouldn't be conveyed: i'll still love you in every cruel world. you sobbed. and he walked away, a child of evil, tearing you apart whole. ➛ demonyo

— sukuna thinks that you were just pure creature who fell from the heavens and was lost in hell with him. even after all this time, even as you had grown older, you still wanted to meet him. even if he tried to lead you out of it, you would never leave. the demon he is, he could never escape his love for you either. as much as you would never escape your love for him. over and over, he believes it as much as you probably do. he will ways fall in love with you over and over again. ➛ a red winter

— sukuna does not understand how you could still smile at him after all these years had passed. but he thinks he'll remember this all his life. the way the snow melted against your mortal skin, the way your blood melted against it. he wanted to look forward to spring with you, like all those years ago. but you knew, as he knew, there will never be a chance like that again. ➛ bu wang

— hundreds of years come and go and he's frozen in time. he still yearns and yearns, looking for you in every corner. wondering if the gods could return you to him. even if the gods hate him, ryomen sukuna keeps asking. in this lonely city, this place, and he is waiting, and he stays. stays. and he does not want to forget. never you.

➛ the moon during the day

— ryomen hiromi's purple eyes widened at the sight of the world burning all around them. the way he stood before you, the twist of cruel fate was like hell. he looked as he did, when you were both young. this is your hell, you realized. a thousand years, countless lives apart. his wish came true. he said he would follow you to whichever hell it was, so long as it was with you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen x oc #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna jjk #jjk au #sukuna x reader #sukuna x oc #new chapter is out <3

[mononijikayu]

night we met — ryomen sukuna.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

listen: the night we met by lord huron

note: i finally got a break after two exams. i still have one more. but i wanted to pop in and give this to you before i disappear into my books again. i hope you enjoy this little thing~ i love you~

FATHER THOUGHT THAT THERE WOULD BE MORE NEED FOR RETAINERS TO COME WITH THEM. As they navigated the bustling streets of the city, Ryomen Hiromi couldn't shake off a palpable sense of tension, despite the festive atmosphere. The warm glow of lanterns illuminated the cobblestone paths, and the air was filled with lively chatter and laughter. Yet, an underlying unease lingered—perhaps a whisper from the gods, you mused, familiar with the capricious nature of the divine. Your lips tightened into a straight line, your hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of your sword. Beneath the surface festivity, an undercurrent of anxiety was palpable.

This might explain why your father had insisted on bringing as many men as possible. The Ryomen family was never short of loyal retainers, and Masaomi had been eager to accompany you. Your father's protective instincts weighed heavily on you, his warnings echoing in your mind. As the sole remaining heir of your distinguished family, his concerns were magnified by the elders’ incessant uproar. Though you understood the necessity of your high profile, it sometimes felt stifling.

As you continued through the lively streets, the festival's atmosphere was electrifying. Lanterns hung from every post, casting dancing lights over the faces of the revelers, each absorbed in their own joyous celebration. The air was thick with the scents of street food and a cacophony of laughter and music, creating a chaotic symphony. Yet, despite the jovial chaos, a tug of unease pulled at your consciousness.

You maintained an even pace and a neutral expression, blending seamlessly into the crowd. The presence of your uncle Hiramu was reassuring; his experienced hand rested nonchalantly on his sword, his eyes scanning the crowd with practiced vigilance. His readiness to protect offered comfort and a reminder of the ever-present potential for danger.

Ryomen Hiromi experienced the weight of the festival differently. While others were drawn into the spirit of celebration, your senses were heightened, alert to any discord. The subtle narrowing of your eyes and the stiffness in your shoulders might go unnoticed by an ordinary onlooker, but they were clear indicators of your tension. The flickering shadows cast by the lantern lights seemed to hide potential threats, and every burst of laughter could be masking whispered conspiracies.

You knew you couldn't afford to let down your guard, not when the stakes were so high. This mission was critical, especially to you, marking a step towards your heir’s role, and the weight of this responsibility was heavy on your shoulders. The festival, with its mask of tradition and celebration, might well be a veneer for more sinister undertones.

Navigating through this sea of faces, your gaze occasionally met those of strangers, your deep hazel eyes searching for any hint of recognition or malice. Being with your uncle Hiramu brought some peace, tempering the anxiety that gnawed at your heart, but the persistent unease remained. Something was amiss, and you could not yet pinpoint it. Your instincts screamed for attention, urging vigilance as the night promised to stretch long.

Reports of strange occurrences and unexplained events had been increasing, stirring unrest among the populace and reaching the ears of Lord Isamu. Typically, such critical missions would fall to your elder brother, Akimu, the designated heir tasked with maintaining the safety and stability of Hida's heartland in your father's stead. But now, with Akimu unable to lead, the weight of responsibility had shifted onto your capable yet burdened shoulders.

Each step felt heavy under the scrutinizing gaze of the moon, illuminating the bustling night with a mocking smile. You took a moment to gather your scattered thoughts, steadying the swirling emotions within. As you lifted your gaze, your eyes began to sharpen, honing in on the play of shadows cast by the lantern light, looking beyond the immediate spectacle to the hidden corners and fleeting movements that might betray underlying threats.

This mission was about more than following in Akimu's footsteps; it was about proving that Ryomen Hiromi could stand firm on uneven, unfamiliar ground. You were determined to command respect, to show that despite your gender, you were every bit the Ryomen heir as any man could be.

As you moved away from the main festivities into quieter, dimly lit parts of the town, Uncle Hiramu finally spoke, his voice low and serious, “Little niece, do you sense it too? There’s a heaviness in the air tonight. It must be what your father was speaking of.”

You nodded, your sharp gaze scanning the shadows. “Yes, I feel it. It's as if the air itself is thick with whispers of the past. There’s a disturbance, not just a vengeful spirit, I think. Something older, deeper.”

Hiramu’s eyes narrowed as he looked ahead. “We should be cautious. These kinds of spirits are often bound to old grudges or unresolved tragedies. The festival’s energy could stir it more than usual.”

You turned into a less crowded alley, where the noise of the festival faded into a distant hum. Your elegant robes brushed against the cobblestones, your attire blending traditional beauty with practicality. The layered silk of your fine kimono was dyed in deep blues and purples, embroidered with silver threads that caught the light, mimicking the night sky. Your obi was tightly cinched, supporting the small dagger hidden within—a necessity for any noble venturing into uncertain situations.

Your father insisted that you dress appropriately. It was outlandish, you supposed. The choices were far too simple for taste, unsuitable for any young beauty of such noble stock. But this was as comfortable as it was safe. Pretense of trade being your desire here in these parts, was much easier than to be quite obvious. Anything more than this would have attracted as much attention as retainers.

“Do you think it’s tied to a particular location or event?” you asked, your voice steady despite the creeping chill that seemed to cling to the edges of the night air. “It’s getting me curious…”

“It could be,” Hiramu replied, his hand never straying far from his sword. “These spiteful little cursed spirits often attach themselves to physical locations where significant emotional events occurred. We’ll need to explore the some sites around here—old battlefields, abandoned shrines, places of great loss or betrayal. Someone is deeply angry, little niece."

Your mind raced, piecing together knowledge with the clues of your current environment. “There’s an old well not far from here, sealed up after a great tragedy struck a hundred years ago during a similar festival. A fire had broken out, and many lives were lost. It was said that the well was cursed thereafter.”

Hiramu’s gaze sharpened, his lips just as sharp when he smiled. “That’s a good place to start. Lead the way, little niece.”

IT HAD TAKEN SOME TIME TO FIND THE CURSED SPIRIT. As the moon ascended, bathing the lively festival in its serene, silver luminescence, you and Uncle Hiramu pressed on with your diligent investigation. The festive air, alive with the thrum of activity and the laughter of revelers, contrasted sharply with your growing tension. Underneath the celestial glow, the reality of your mission slowly began to crystallize, taking on a new urgency as unexpected developments unfolded. It had begun with something ever so simple and from there, unpredictable fate intervened and soon enough, the chaos ensued.

The moment of realization struck you with unsettling suddenness. You patted down the side. There was nothing but panic as you looked to the side of the obi and found nothing. One look was enough to confirm that eager suspicion: the coin purse was missing. You looked up towards Uncle Hiramu. You knew that he was trying not to laugh, but his eyes were too obvious. You smacked your uncle which prompted the laugh to bellow from his belly. All you could do was mope in the silence. You supposed that it was alright. Money was not a big deal. But… your eyes widened.

Without hesitating, your eyes swept across the sea of faces swirling around you. The atmosphere was charged with the festival’s energy, yet your focus was razor-sharp. It was then that you had spotted a distinct splash of color that stood out against the earthy tones of the crowd—a young boy with striking pink hair, weaving through the crowd with the agility and desperation of someone fleeing. You looked at Hiramu, and he nodded back at you.

It was then where your instincts kicked in. You tapped your uncle's arm and started mouthing instructions as subtly as one could towards the fleeing figure. Without needing further explanation, Hiramu caught the urgency and nodded. Hiramu took the other direction as you turned to the other.

As you navigated through the dense crowd, the distance between you and the boy closed gradually, you were certain of it. You could sense Hiramu’s cursed energy with each step below against the wide battered ground. You were certain that you were ever so close to bringing a close to the night. But first, you must unravel the night's mysteries. That boy was the key.

Ryomen Hiramu wasted no time as he dashed from stall to stall, street to street. He could feel it, he could feel it too well. That overwhelming power. His seasoned body kicked into high gear, and he swiftly maneuvered through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the pink-haired boy darting through the festival, speeding through the brunt of human bodies. Hiramu cursed under his breath. The child was too clever. With each step, Hiramu's determination as he ran through a corridor of small houses clamped together—one of the poorest sects of life in the quaint area.

As he closed the gap between them, Hiramu noticed an unusual, dark shimmer around the boy—an ominous aura that seemed almost palpable in the moonlit night. This was no mere act of theft; it was clear there was something far more sinister at play. The aura surrounding the boy twisted and writhed like a living thing, a visual manifestation of deep-seated emotional turmoil. It became apparent that this child was not acting alone; he was bound to a cursed spirit, a malevolent force likely fueled by intense feelings of anger, fear, and loneliness.

The realization struck Hiramu with a harsh chill. The spirit's presence suggested that the boy's actions were not entirely his own, that he was under the influence of these dark energies that fed on negative emotions. Such spirits were known to attach themselves to vulnerable souls, magnifying their darkest thoughts and driving them to act in ways they might not otherwise, turning their inner turmoil into outward chaos. Just as he drew his sword, you turned from the corner. Ryomen Hiromi threw that heavy bound haori away, looking at Hiramu.

“Shibaru One! Binding Fate!” you exclaimed, your voice clear and commanding as streaks of luminous energy surged towards the boy. He let out a sharp cry, writhing against the ethereal chains that now ensnared him under your control.

“Be careful!” Hiramu cautioned, moving closer to assist. “He's the source, he's entwined with that cursed spirit!”

You nodded, your focus undeterred by the boy's struggles as you tightened your grip on the energy that bound him. The spectral chains glowed brighter, each pulse of light strengthening the hold over the chaotic spirit within him. Your uncle's warning echoed in your mind, reinforcing your burning resolve to act with both precision and caution.

The boy’s eyes, wide with a mixture of fear and confusion, met yours. You could see the turmoil swirling within him, the innocent caught in the grip of something far beyond his control. “Hold on, just a little longer,” you murmured, your voice a blend of firmness and reassurance intended to pierce through the haze of his panic. A faint smile blossomed from your lips. “Trust me, okay?”

Hiramu understood the gravity of the situation—they were dealing with a phenomenon that was both a danger to the boy and to all those attending the festival. The cursed spirit needed to be dealt with delicately and decisively, for the safety of the boy and the peace of the community. There were too many people here that would not understand what was going on.

There was no need to make a bigger ruckus. With this understanding, Ryomen Hiramu pressed on, his resolve hardened, knowing that he and you must act swiftly to intervene and dispel the darkness that had taken hold of the young boy.

As Hiramu closed in, the cursed spirit sensed the threat and began to lash out, manifesting as tendrils of dark energy. You, realizing the severity of the situation, knew immediate action was required. "Start the purification ritual!" Hiramu shouted over his shoulder as he dodged a swipe from the spirit. "I'll hold it off! Just go and do your job!”

You crossed the tips of your fingers, your eyes narrowing deeper into the soul of the boy. You began to chant softly, the words of an ancient purification rite falling rhythmically from your lips. The boy looked frightened by all means, as the white light did what it could, purging one dark fabric from the boy one after the other.

The air around you seemed to hum with power as your words wove through the currents of energy emanating from your firm hands. The glowing chains tightened further, and the dark aura around the boy began to dissipate, sucked away into the void created by your spell. But as with all things, it tried to keep alive.

Meanwhile, Hiramu engaged the spirit, his sword movements precise, each strike intended not to harm the boy but to distract the spirit and weaken its hold. The sound of the boy’s screams pierced through over and over again, the cursed spirit overlaying against each agonizing echo. He could see the ritual's glow intensifying, the light beginning to engulf the boy, binding and suppressing the dark energy around him.

With a final, desperate cry, the cursed spirit dissipated, expelled in one painful grip. All of a sudden, your white cursed energy also disappeared. You gasped out loud as your shaking knees fell to the ground, weary from it all. It was the first time you had used that purification technique. But it seemed that it had finally worked. You looked at the empty depth of your palm.

As the ritual reached its climax, your voice rose in a powerful cadence, your tender hands outstretched towards the boy, directing the flow of purified energy. The cursed spirit writhed and howled and fought over and over, its form becoming unstable under the ritual’s influence. Sweat permeated through your sleeves, your teeth gritted, your eyes narrowed, over and over the ringing of each of your ears continued as the boy continued to fight for his life.

Your eyes shined. You had done that. Hiramu looked at you, rushing towards you. But you stopped him, coughing as you regained air. You pointed to the boy, sprawled on the pavement. Hiramu sheathed his sword back. Soon enough, Hiramu could only lift the boy in his arms.

The boy, now freed from the spirit’s grasp, collapsed, exhausted but unharmed. He was perhaps trying to catch his breath. He must have been exhausted. You, having returned to the plane of reality, rushed to his side, your own energy spent. You were certain that there was no bigger word than relief as you eagerly confirmed that he was safe. His eyes were both soft and weary as he looked at that boy. He lifted his head at you.

Hiramu's eyes remained narrowed, the wrinkles at the corners deepening as he surveyed the scene before him. Despite the successful expulsion of the spirit, his instincts told him there was more to uncover. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight that drew your attention immediately. "Something is still not right," he said, his tone heavy with unease.

You nodded, understanding the depth of your uncle's concern. You gently placed your palm on the boy's forehead, feeling the residual heat of the ritual. "He's warm, uncle," you observed as your voice echoed tinged with worry.

"Purification techniques are painful to the body," Hiramu responded, his voice a low hum, soothing yet solemn. "It’s purging the worst of the soul, after all. Still, it must be said. You did well, little niece."

The corners of your mouth twitched into a slight smile, a rare break in your usually stern demeanor. "Such praise is rare, uncle."

Hiramu let out a soft snicker, his usual stern facade momentarily giving way to familial warmth. "I compliment you all the time," he claimed, though his smile betrayed the playfulness of his exaggeration.

"That sounds like a lie, uncle," you retorted, your weary eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection.

"Yeah, yeah," Hiramu dismissed playfully, but his attention quickly returned to the matter at hand as the boy began to stir. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden movement. You had been so focused on your exchange that the boy's awakening caught you momentarily off guard.

"What do you intend to do with this boy, niece?" Hiramu asked, his tone shifting back to the gravity of your situation. His question hung in the air, pressing you for a decision, reminding you of your responsibilities. “You’re the only one who can decide the lad’s fate.”

“Uncle—”

“You are my better, even if I am your elder and uncle.” Hiramu added, watching you become flustered as he watched the young lady shift in her position. “What do you think is right?”

You took a deep breath, your gaze shifting from Hiramu to the boy who was slowly regaining consciousness. You could see the confusion and fear flicker across his young face as he came to grips with his surroundings. He seemed disoriented, his eyes darting around, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.

Your voice rang out with a firm resolve, words carrying an air of unwavering determination. You met the older man’s gaze with a steady intensity, your expression betraying no hint of doubt. 

"We'll bring him back with us to the manor," you declared, leaving no room for argument. "I'll send word ahead to let them know."

Hiramu's response was laced with a sense of foreboding. "They won't like this," he cautioned, his words heavy with the weight of tradition and expectation. You understood exactly what he meant—the elders, with their adherence to protocol and rigid adherence to tradition, were unlikely to approve of your deviation from established norms. But your determination remained unshaken.

"That is a matter I will handle myself, uncle," you asserted, your voice steady and resolute. You were acutely aware of the potential consequences of defying the elders, but your concern for the boy's well-being outweighed any fear of reprisal. "Do not worry."

Hiramu sighed, a reluctant acknowledgment of your determination. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to stand in your way when your stubborn mind was set to its desires. 

"Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. At that moment, he placed his trust in your judgment, knowing that you would do whatever was necessary to ensure the young boy’s safety and well-being, even if it meant challenging the traditions of your elders. “What else?”

“We might stay a day longer, to make sure that this is the only concern.” You retorted back to him, pursing your lips together in a tight line. “I shall head off and see to it that barriers are strengthened. There need not be any more situations like this one.”

“Very well. I’ll go ahead and take him to our inn.”

“Make sure he’s well fed, uncle. And that he’s alright.” 

Hiramu snickers. “You act as though I didn’t take care of you or your brother.”

"I’ll check on him when I return. We need to ensure he's truly free of any residual curse," you said tenderly towards the older man.. "We also need to understand who he is. How did he get here at all, past the barriers. And how did he get this powerful. This puzzle requires quite a bit of effort.”

Hiramu nodded in agreement, his face reflecting his approval of your thorough approach. "Very well," he replied, "We should also see if we can help him find his way. No one should be left to wander alone, much so not one who has been through such an ordeal."

You knelt beside the boy, offering a reassuring smile. "Can you tell us your name?" you asked gently, hoping to ease him into conversation.

As the boy's gaze met yours, his initially wide eyes began to soften, a subtle shift that hinted at his growing realization of safety in your presence. Despite this reassurance, he remained silent, a reaction you attributed to the lingering shock and confusion from the events he had endured. Understandingly, you accepted his quiet, knowing well that pushing him to speak before he was ready could only cause further distress.

You addressed him with a gentle, reassuring smile, your tone soft yet imbued with an underlying strength. "Take all the time you need, little boy," you encouraged, your words floating warmly in the cool air, offering him the space and time he might require to recover from his ordeal. Your smile, kind and patient, was meant to communicate that he was under no pressure to reveal anything before he felt comfortable.

Straightening up, you prepared to continue your duties, aware of the responsibilities that still awaited your attention beyond this encounter. You glanced towards your uncle, who had also been through a trying time, his vigilance unyielding as he supported your efforts. 

"Get some rest. You too, uncle," you added, acknowledging his fatigue and your appreciation for his steadfast support. "I’ll return with haste."

As you turned to leave, the boy's eyes followed your every move, wide and contemplative. In the quiet aftermath of your promise, his gaze lingered on your retreating figure, a mix of newfound trust and lingering uncertainty playing across his features.  His eyes, filled with a depth that spoke of both fear and curiosity, seemed to hold a thousand unasked questions. 

As he watched you disappear into the crowd, there was a palpable sense of wonder about whether he could find his voice, not just to speak but to share his thoughts, fears, and perhaps his hidden stories. The boy was silently grappling with the idea of opening up, of letting someone else into his secluded world.

You, aware of his watchful eyes, felt a twinge of responsibility and hope. His silent scrutiny did not go unnoticed, and it reminded you of the delicate task ahead—not just protecting him from external dangers but also nurturing his trust and confidence to the point where he would feel safe to express himself. The boy's quiet contemplation as you walked away hinted at the significant role you would play in his life, potentially being the first to hear his voice when he finally chose to speak. 

As you melded with the festivities, the distance between you growing, you carried with you the weight of his unspoken thoughts, hoping that when you returned, the boy would be ready to break his silence, allowing you into his world. Until then, he shuts his eyes. He lets the sleep take him to the nether world, where nightmares still come to follow.

HIROMI THINKS THAT SLEEP WAS ALL THAT WOULD FIX THINGS. Hiromi returned to the heart of the festival, your task of reinforcing the protective barriers around the periphery completed. Your work, involving the meticulous weaving of energy to strengthen the existing magical defenses, had left you sharp and attuned to even the slightest disturbance. The process was arduous, as you needed to locate and neutralize any lingering curses that could threaten the festival's sanctity. Each of these encounters, a dance of skill and arcane prowess, tested not only your abilities but also your mental fortitude and resolve.

The challenges were varied, ranging from minor nuisances that were swiftly dealt with, to more stubborn, malignant energies that demanded all your focus and power to dispel. Yet, you managed each with precision and control, your extensive training and natural aptitude shining through. With every curse you unraveled and every barrier you chose to further fortify. As Akimu ensured the festival grounds remained a safe haven, you would do the same. This land must always be free from the influence of dark forces.

This vigilant defense was crucial, not only to protect the attendees but to maintain the balance of energies within the festival area. Any breach could lead to chaos, potentially unleashing harm on the unsuspecting revelers. Your successful fortification of the area thus served as an invisible shield, one that allowed the festival to continue in joyous celebration without the shadow of malevolent interference.

As the sky began to lighten with the approach of dawn, you continued that prideful vigilance, keeping a watchful eye on the worshippers gathered for the festival. Amidst the joyous celebrations, you remained ever alert, scanning the crowd for any signs of disturbance or danger. It was in the stillness of the early morning hours that you noticed a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Despite the dim light of dawn, you sensed a presence nearby, a stirring of energy that caught all of your attention. Instinctively, you turned your gaze toward the source and saw the pink-haired boy, his eyes open and alert. You approached him quietly, your movements fluid and deliberate. You could sense that something had changed, that your encounter earlier had left an impression on him. With a gentle smile, you greeted him, your voice soft but reassuring.

"Good morning," you said, your tone warm with genuine concern. "How are you feeling?"

The boy's gaze flickered between curiosity and caution as he studied you, trying to parse the intentions behind your unexpected approach. Despite the swirl of doubt clouding his young mind, there was an undeniable sense of comfort that seemed to emanate from your presence—somewhat a stability in the tumultuous sea of his current experiences. Sensing his hesitation, you understood his reticence; after all, to him, you and uncle Hiramu were nothing more than strangers who had suddenly entered his life under unusual and likely frightening circumstances.

However, you sensed a deeper narrative woven into the fabric of the boy's aura, a story that extended beyond his current fear and confusion. You were determined to unearth the role he played in the festival's strange occurrences, driven by a conviction that his involvement was not merely coincidental. This was uncharted territory, a situation that neither you nor the festival had encountered before. Yet, you believed that new challenges were always opportunities for growth and understanding, reminders that there is always a "first time" for every occurrence in life.

Respecting his silence, you chose not to press him further for answers. You recognized that trust needed to be earned, especially in such delicate circumstances. It was then, in a moment of frailty, that the boy's strength seemed to falter, his body leaning as if he might collapse. Reacting swiftly, you stepped forward, kneeling to catch him, your movements guided by a blend of concern and readiness to support him.

As he rebounded slightly, stabilized by your quick intervention, he blinked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and bewilderment. In that brief exchange of looks, a silent understanding began to form. Your actions spoke louder than any words could have; they conveyed a promise of protection and empathy, laying the groundwork for a trust that might soon allow the boy to share his story and perhaps reveal the mysteries surrounding the events that had drawn you all together.

As you extended your hand toward him, he hesitated momentarily before his eyes blinked in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Observing his uncertainty, you offered him a tender smile, softening your expression to ease his apprehension.

"Are you alright, young one?" you asked, your voice low and soothing, cutting through the noise of the surrounding festivities.

In that moment, the boy found himself unexpectedly captivated by your presence. There was something almost ethereal about you, a radiance that seemed to emanate from within, casting a gentle, enchanting glow in the soft light of the festival’s lanterns—ones which still light up the dark morning glory. Your form appeared haloed by this light, lending you an otherworldly grace that was both comforting and awe-inspiring.

Your eyes, warm and inviting, seemed to draw him in further. They were deep pools of compassion and understanding, reaching out to him across the void of his own confusion and fear. As your eyes met, he felt a profound connection; it was as though you could see into the very depths of his soul, understanding his fears and yearnings without a word spoken.

The world around both of you seemed to pause, creating a bubble of serenity amidst the chaos. To the boy, this wasn’t just a simple meeting; it was a pivotal moment that would redefine his understanding of safety and hope. Even before he knew your name, Hiromi, he saw in you not just a protector or a higher power, but a guiding light, a beacon of hope illuminating his darkened world.

"What's your name?" you inquired gently, noticing his silence but undeterred by it.

When he remained mute, your smile broadened, radiating kindness and patience. "It’s okay if you have no name," you reassured him, your voice a soft anchor in his stormy sea of thoughts.

Upon hearing this, he looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of amazement and relief. Here was someone offering not just help, but a place and a presence in the world.

"I’ll give you one," you promised, a simple offer that nonetheless promised him a new beginning, a sense of identity and belonging that he had long craved. This simple gesture of naming was more than a label; it was a gift of a new life and a fresh start under your protective gaze.

You smile warmly at him, feeling the weight of the moment as you prepare to give him a name—a simple yet profound gift that could anchor him to a new beginning. When you smile at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. Yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night. Names were important. In the family, it was.  Sensing the importance of the choice, you think carefully, choosing a name rich with strength and history. The family histories had such good names to choose from, you think.

"Would the name Ryomen Sukuna suffice for you?" you ask gently, observing his reaction to gauge whether it resonates with him. “Now that you are with us, you will gain two lives. The past and now the future. Will you accept it, little one?”

The boy looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he processes the name. It's clear he is unfamiliar with its origins or meanings, but there is an undeniable flicker of intrigue in his gaze. Ryomen Sukuna, a name that carries echoes of a mystic and power to it. Entirely opposite of what he had known. The boy, now Sukuna, thinks this could imbue him with a sense of might and courage, perhaps reflecting the new path he might choose to follow under your guidance. And then, maybe then, he can serve you. With this new name.

For a moment, he remains silent, contemplating the name, rolling it over in his mind. Then, slowly, a tentative smile begins to form on his lips. It seems to suit him, or at least, he is willing to step into the mantle it could offer.

"Ryomen Sukuna," he repeats softly, testing how the name feels as it comes out of his mouth. His voice is unsure at first, but with each repetition, he seems to grow more comfortable, more accepting of it.

Seeing his acceptance, your smile broadens. "Yes, Ryomen Sukuna," you confirm with a nod, affirming his new identity. "It’s a strong name, one that I believe can help guide you to become whoever you wish to be."

The boy nods, a sense of new identity beginning to settle within him. The name, though ancient, now starts a new chapter in his life, one filled with potential and promise. You extend your hand to him once more, this time as a gesture of warmth. A future worth looking forward to.

"Now, you must be hungry, Sukuna," you suggest warmly, ready to introduce him back into the celebration, not as an orphan lost amidst chaos but as a newly named participant with a protector by his side. “There’s still some stalls open. Some are not yet done with the festival. Do you want something to eat?”

He looks at you for a moment and then tenderly nods. As he takes your hand, his grip is firm, and his initial hesitance seems to wash away with the rising sun. Together, you walk back towards the heart of where the fullness of the festival had been, your steps synchronized. Ryomen Sukuna, newly named and newly empowered, walks beside you, no longer just a passive spectator but a young boy with a nascent but growing sense of belonging and purpose.

Your role as his protector, and now the giver of his name, has created a bond between you, one that promises not only safety but also a future filled with the potential for transformation. As you both step into the bustling festival, the early morning light casts long shadows, yet for Sukuna, illuminated by the glow of the lanterns and buoyed by your supportive presence, the world seems less intimidating.

You had given him a name, securing a place for him in this chaos—a gesture simple yet profound. This act forged a tentative bond, knitting a fragile sense of belonging into his young heart. And now, for the first time, he truly belonged somewhere. On this transformative night, his heart was full of nothing but hope. He had a name—a name that was uniquely his, one his mother had never given him.

As you walked side by side, he looked up at you with eyes shining with admiration. Sukuna adored his new name, not just for its sound or its meaning, but because it was a gift from you. It symbolized a new beginning, a sign of your faith in him. In that simple name, he found a deep sense of identity and purpose. He hoped beyond hope that this newfound connection would last.

Feeling the gravity of this moment, he tightened his grip on your hand. You looked down at him and smiled—a gesture that sealed his newfound faith in this bond. At that moment, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he had been reborn. No longer just a boy lost in the festival's chaos, but a person with a role, a duty, and a place in the world. His life, from that moment forward, was to be lived for you, in devotion to the path you would guide him on. You had become his guardian, his mentor—his goddess—and he, in turn, devoted himself to be your loyal follower.

This rebirth was not just about a new name but a whole new existence shaped by the promise of guidance and protection under your watchful care. As the festival carried on around you, with its myriad lights and shadows, Sukuna walked confidently by your side, secure in his new identity and the journey ahead.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x oc #jjk x oc #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x oc #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x oc #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #ryoumen sukuna x reader #kayu writes ! ! !

[mononijikayu]

No I did not steal this from Naruto and no I am not delusional

[mononijikayu]

thinking about good luck babe by chapell roan being a shoko x gojo! sister song??? like she is forced by the gojo clan to comply with tradition and she does so because she doesn't want to be a headache for satoru??? and how she's married to some clan leader that makes you miserable, maybe even nanami, caus you share a grief about haibara and you meet shoko again, both of you miserable with your choices???? and she just looks at you, smiling sadly and saying, 'i told you so.' and she just smiles back at shoko saying, 'i know.'???

#kayu writes ! ! ! #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ieri shoko #shoko ieri #ieiri shoko #shoko ieiri #shoko ie #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko x reader #ieir #ieiri shoko x reader

[mononijikayu]

ashes of love — ryomen sukuna.

there was never one more devout to anyone than ryomen sukuna was to ryomen hiromi. he obeyed no one than his lady. before he was a king, he was devout follower. he had at one point had a goddess to worship.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

note: this is a side story to us and them, which i am working on and will publish again soon~ i have to edit it too!!! despite the fact that our main character is now given a name, i'll be using the terms you, she/her and hiromi's name to try and tell the story as a little bit more flexibly~ posting this and coming back with the upcoming chapter next weekend!!! thank you~

the ryomen double heron

"Famine ravaged all through the land then," Hiromi began, elegant voice carrying the weight of history, "People were dying from hunger. The water wells were in drought. It was then that two herons appeared before Ryomen Shigemitsu, leading him to the people in need. Famine stopped with time, and the people welcomed him. His legacy is this on that flag above us."

Sukuna listened intently, his gaze fixed on Hiromi's face. There was pride in the way you spoke. You smiled ever so gently. To Sukuna, you were beautiful like this. He could see the light in your eyes that he wants to keep there for all your life.

"The double heron has been a symbol of resilience and compassion for generations," Hiromi continued, eyes alight with reverence for her family's legacy. "And now, it's up to us to uphold that legacy—to be beacons of light in the darkness, just as Shigemitsu- sama was all those years ago."

Sukuna felt his mind wander to thoughts of his own identity. He felt like a stranger in this world, a creature of darkness amidst the light of Hiromi's noble lineage. His mother's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of his supposed destiny—to fail, to disappoint, to be a monster. He was a creature of horrors. His face falls flat to contorted darkness.

Lost in his thoughts, Sukuna's gaze fell to the ground, his heart heavy with doubt and uncertainty. He fears he would fail you. He fears he would bring ruin to you and to the Ryomen. He was a curse, a curse and he couldn't understand how he could be honorable as you. But before he could spiral further into despair, Hiromi's gentle hand reached out, flicking his forehead lightly.

"Hey, don't overthink it," You said with a warm smile, bright eyes filled with kindness. For a moment, he wonders what he did in his life to deserve how you treated him in your life. "You're not alone, Sukuna. I believe in you."

Sukuna's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He had never dared to hope that someone like Hiromi could have faith in him, could see beyond the darkness that seemed to define his existence.

"But… I…" he stammered, at a loss for words.

Hiromi's head shakes lightly, your smile unwavering. "No buts," you insisted. "I know you're capable of great things, Sukuna. You're not defined by your past or your fears. You have the power to forge your own destiny, and I'll be here every step of the way, cheering you on."

In that moment, Sukuna felt a glimmer of hope ignite within him, dispelling the shadows of doubt that had clouded his mind. With Hiromi's unwavering belief by his side, he felt a newfound sense of purpose stirring within his soul—a determination to rise above his fears and prove himself worthy of her faith.

And as they sat together beneath the moonlit sky, Sukuna made a silent vow to himself—to stand tall, to fight against the darkness, and to make Hiromi proud.

Records and History of the Ryomen Clan

an ode to my mother, lady hiromi of the ryomen clan.

to my descendants, read carefully and thread carefully.

this is for your eyes to seek only, descendant of hiromi.

do not let this fall in ryomen sukuna's hands.

mikoto masuyo.

両面 of Hida Province

bound to serve, further and beyond.

household of ryomen isamu

: ̗̀➛ his lady wife, fujiwara akiko

: ̗̀➛ his daughter and heir, ryomen hiromi

: ̗̀➛ his eldest and deceased son, ryomen akimu

: ̗̀➛ his brother, ryomen hiramu

: ̗̀➛ adopted son of hiramu, ryomen sukuna

: ̗̀➛ retainer and heir of the mikoto clan, mikoto masaomi

there is no certainty of who ryomen sukuna was before he met lady hiromi. but it was certain that he had found a purpose to live in that moment. he lived to serve his goddess.

You reached out your hand to his.

His eyes blinked.

You smiled at him tenderly.

"Are you alright, young one?"

In that fleeting moment, the boy found himself captivated by the tender lady's presence. You seemed to radiate an ethereal aura, your every essence imbued with a sense of otherworldly beauty. The soft glow of the lanterns bathed your features in a warm, gentle light, casting an enchanting halo around your form.

And then there were your eyes—pools of warmth and compassion that drew him in, their depths revealing a wellspring of kindness and understanding. In those moments when your gazes met, he felt as though you could see straight through him, peering into the depths of his soul with an unwavering sense of empathy.

It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting encounter that left an indelible mark on his heart. In that moment, long before he knew Hiromi's name, he saw not just someone above him, but a guiding light—a beacon of hope in his world shrouded in darkness. And as he reached out to take your hand, he knew that this chance meeting would forever alter the course of his destiny.

"What's your name?"

He did not reply.

You smiled wider at him.

"It's okay if you have no name."

He looks up to you, eyes widened.

"I'll give you one."

SCROLLS OF RECORDS, IN ORDER;

➛ night flower

— sukuna knows, even thousands of years later, that he would recognize you even in stone. ➛ the night we met

— when you smiled at him, he thinks he found heaven. monsters like him do not deserve heaven. yet the goddess you were, embraced him in the warmth of tender night.

➛ a walk — sukuna realized that you don't sleep as well as you wanted. you were plagued with nightmares, ones he can never truly know. yet sukuna thinks, the monster he is robs you of those nightmares at times, when he stands by your side under the moonlight.

➛ too sweet

— in that moment, he thinks he understood it very well. you deserve someone as sweet as you. one that would love you better than he could. but he knew he was addicted to your sweet taste. he liked things bitter, he liked things as they are. but not with you. never with you. ➛ water is fine

— hiramu is right, if he's thinking about it. blood may be thicker than water, but sukuna need only close his eyes and they'd feel the same. he had never known to belong before. he didn't know how to express it all. but being a ryomen is all he had. you were all he had. even if you'll never belong to him. the water is fine, so long its with you. ➛ as the world caves in

— sukuna doesn't know what to do as he knelt beside you, wrapping your weary around your shaking legs. nor does he know how to dry your tears. the rain kept pouring, crying for him the tears he can't shed. and he remained with you, he remained despite all you had lost to the flames of cruelty. ➛ hongyeon

— ryomen sukuna knew that he had to survive here. to cultivate all his hatred, his anguish, his grief; just so he can return to you. there was no other choice. he needs to be the monster that he'd always been, he needs to be the cruel beast. he needs to be strong. he needs to protect you. so you would never suffer again. ➛ akuma no ko

— even with tears in your eyes, you still were still spring. yet he would never be able to put it into words. even if these words could be translated to life, they would never capture the true meaning wouldn't be conveyed: i'll still love you in every cruel world. you sobbed. and he walked away, a child of evil, tearing you apart whole. ➛ demonyo

— sukuna thinks that you were just pure creature who fell from the heavens and was lost in hell with him. even after all this time, even as you had grown older, you still wanted to meet him. even if he tried to lead you out of it, you would never leave. the demon he is, he could never escape his love for you either. as much as you would never escape your love for him. over and over, he believes it as much as you probably do. he will ways fall in love with you over and over again. ➛ a red winter

— sukuna does not understand how you could still smile at him after all these years had passed. but he thinks he'll remember this all his life. the way the snow melted against your mortal skin, the way your blood melted against it. he wanted to look forward to spring with you, like all those years ago. but you knew, as he knew, there will never be a chance like that again. ➛ bu wang

— hundreds of years come and go and he's frozen in time. he still yearns and yearns, looking for you in every corner. wondering if the gods could return you to him. even if the gods hate him, ryomen sukuna keeps asking. in this lonely city, this place, and he is waiting, and he stays. stays. and he does not want to forget. never you.

➛ the moon during the day

— ryomen hiromi's purple eyes widened at the sight of the world burning all around them. the way he stood before you, the twist of cruel fate was like hell. he looked as he did, when you were both young. this is your hell, you realized. a thousand years, countless lives apart. his wish came true. he said he would follow you to whichever hell it was, so long as it was with you.

#added the chapter descriptors hurrah #i had technical difficulties i nearly cried #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk au #sukuna x reader #sukuna x oc #jujutsu kaisen x oc #jjk x oc #sukuna angst #jjk angst #sukuna fluff #jjk sukuna #jjk fluff #jjk ryomen #jujutsu sukuna #kayu writes

[mononijikayu]

pied piper — gojo satoru.

he couldn't let you slip away now, not after you had already left such a lasting impression on him. the taste of sin lingered on his lips from that fateful encounter, and he craved more of your sweet essence. he was willing to risk everything, even the ire of principal gakuganji, to have you by his side. with a sense of determination burning in his heart, gojo satoru resolved to lead you astray like a pied piper, guiding you down a path of forbidden desire and unbridled passion. and he was confident that you would follow, unable to resist the allure of his magnetic charm and the promise of untold ecstasy.

Genre: Pre - Hidden Inventory Arc, 2006 - 2007;

Warning/s: Romance, Love at First Sight, Strangers to Lovers, Colleagues to Lovers, Pet Names, Banter, Fluff, Comedy, Profanity, NSFW, R-18, Smut, Explicit Sex, Making Out, Unprotected Sex, Aftercare;

masterlist

listen: pied piper by bts

note: everyone is a year older in this fic, so both gojo and you are eighteen when this happened!!! i debated a lot if I was going to keep the smut but well, it is valentines day. i might as well give you a hurrah before i become a bit inactive once my uni break closes and i return to uni. this is the last for 2024's valentines day!!! happy valentines day everyone!!!

YOU DIDN’T KNOW HOW MUCH YOUR LIFE WOULD CHANGE DURING THIS MISSION. As you faced off against the formidable opponent, the air crackled with tension, thick with the malevolent aura emanating from the curse. Despite the gravity of the situation, your attention was inexplicably drawn to the white-haired boy with the ridiculous dark glasses observing from the building opposite you.

His gaze was intense, and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes in uncertainty as you continued to battle the curse with your double-edged spear. With each strike, the curse let out a heinous cry, its grotesque form writhing in agony before disappearing into oblivion.

This mission wasn't originally yours; Utahime-senpai had asked for your help to cover it, sensing her exhaustion from her previous assignment. Without hesitation, you had agreed and rushed to the field, determined to fulfill your duty.

But as you fought, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched by the mysterious white-haired boy. His presence was distracting, his cheers of encouragement ringing in your ears as you faced the relentless onslaught of the curse's attacks. Despite the chaos around you, his gaze remained fixed on you, igniting a spark of curiosity and uncertainty within you like never before.

As you battled the curse, the weight of the white haired boy's intense gaze seemed to linger, as if it bore into your very soul. Each time you landed a blow, his cheers echoed in your mind, driving you to push harder against the relentless onslaught of the curse's attacks. Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, his unwavering focus on you filled you with a mixture of intrigue and unease, stirring emotions you had never experienced before.

As you turned your attention to the building where the white-haired boy had been observing, you were taken aback by what you saw next. With a rush of adrenaline, he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance between you in a daring display of agility. Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched him descend gracefully, his smirk growing wider with each passing moment.

You couldn't help but let out a startled scream as he landed with perfect precision, his bravado emanating from every inch of his tall, imposing figure. His confident demeanor only seemed to grow as he approached you, his dark uniform perfectly in place despite the acrobatic display.

He was definitely a student, you realized, his presence exuding an air of youthful confidence and energy. You found yourself wondering about his origins—was he from Tokyo or Fukuoka? It seemed he was pondering the same question as he observed you with equal curiosity.

As he drew nearer, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness, his towering height casting a long shadow over you. You took a step back instinctively, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over the scene. Beads of sweat formed on your brow as he adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses, his gaze fixed firmly on you amidst the moonlit backdrop..

"Hey there, tough fighter," he called out, his voice laced with amusement. "That was quite the show you put on back there."

“You could have died!” You retorted, pointing to where he was and where he is now. “Do you not, do you not see where you jumped from? You could have died right in front of me too!”

“You have really funny reactions.” The white haired boy says, almost excitedly. “I like that!”

“That is so fucked to say.”

“Ohhhhh, you kiss your mom with that foul mouth?”

“And what is it to you, creep?”

He snickers. “Everything to me, doll.”

You eyed him warily, still unsure of his intentions. "Who are you?" you asked, keeping your guard up.

He chuckled, unfazed by your cautious demeanor. "Just a curious observer, doll." he replied cryptically. "I couldn't help but be impressed by your skills. You've got quite the talent for handling curses."

You frowned, finding his flattery both unsettling and intriguing. "What do you want?" you pressed, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

His smirk widened, and he took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to see more of what you can do," he said, his voice low and enticing. "How about we team up for the next mission? I promise it'll be worth your while."

You frowned, your skepticism evident. “I don’t even know you.”

He raised a brow at your incredulous response. “What do you mean you don’t know me?”

“First of all, you look like a creep,” you retorted, your tone laced with suspicion.

“Am not,” he countered with a playful grin.

“You were watching me throughout my mission, clapping and cheering like you know me. But I don’t know you, and not to mention, I could have been killed!” you exclaimed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “And you were just watching.”

He chuckled at your reaction, seemingly unfazed by your pointed remarks. “Nah, you wouldn’t.”

“What do you mean I wouldn’t?” you demanded, your frustration mounting as you awaited his response.

“You seem strong,” he remarked, his grin unwavering as he gazed at you with bright blue eyes that seemed to gleam in the moonlight. His hands remained casually tucked in his pockets, exuding an air of confidence.

Your brows furrowed at his compliment. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No,” he responded nonchalantly, his grin still in place. “But it makes me intrigued about you. And I wanna know more.”

“You sound like a brat,” you retorted, your tone sharp as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“That sounds like a compliment coming from you,” he teased, unfazed by your glare.

“It’s not,” you clarified, your expression serious as you adjusted your grip on your spear. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

He chuckled softly, the moonlight casting a faint glow on his features as he stepped closer to you. "My name is Gojo Satoru," he introduced himself, his tone surprisingly sincere despite his earlier playful demeanor. 

As you lowered your weapon and studied Satoru Gojo, a wave of memories washed over you, triggered by the mention of his name. You recalled the countless times Utahime-senpai had returned from missions, regaling you with tales of the infamous sorcerer known for his unconventional methods and unpredictable behavior. According to her, Gojo Satoru was the epitome of chaos, a force of nature that caused her no end of frustration and stress.

You couldn't help but wonder if your experience teaming up with him would mirror Utahime-senpai's encounters. Would he prove to be as infuriating and exasperating as she had described? Or would you discover a different side to him, one that defied expectations and challenged your preconceived notions?

Utahime-senpai often spoke of Gojo Satoru and his friend Geto Suguru as a formidable pair to contend with in the world of Jujutsu sorcery. They were renowned for their power and skill, often entrusted with missions that surpassed the typical assignments given to others, including Utahime-senpai herself. It was a testament to their strength and reputation within the Jujutsu world.

As you reflected on Utahime-senpai's words, you couldn't help but acknowledge the truth in them. Gojo Satoru's imposing presence and undeniable power were evident in every interaction you had with him. He exuded confidence and authority, carrying himself with the assurance of someone who knew their capabilities.

Despite his formidable reputation, you knew there was more to Gojo Satoru than just his strength. He was a member of the esteemed Gojo family, a lineage known for producing powerful Jujutsu sorcerers. His tall stature and commanding presence only served to reinforce his status as a force to be reckoned with.

However, beneath his intimidating exterior, you sensed a complexity to him that intrigued you. There was a depth to his character that went beyond his power, a side of him that you were curious to explore further. But you also understood the potential ramifications of getting involved with someone like Gojo Satoru. His power and influence could easily overshadow your own, leaving you feeling insignificant in comparison.

Despite these reservations, you couldn't deny the allure of someone like Gojo Satoru. His presence commanded attention, drawing you in with an irresistible magnetism that left you captivated. But as you navigated the complexities of your interactions with him, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Gojo Satoru than met the eye.

“What do you say?” He smiles at her, lowering his glasses once more. His blue eyes pierced her once more. She gulped. “Humor me?”

“You’re so—”

Satoru Gojo's phone suddenly buzzed loudly with an incoming call, and he swiftly retrieved it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. He gave you a look, as though he was asking for a moment. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. You didn’t know it then but the phone ID revealed Suguru Geto's name, his bestest friend. You would meet him later, that was certain. But you didn’t know that yet. Instead, you knew the sense of urgency to have that call happen in that moment. 

He looks at you, a bit flustered. “Do you mind?”

You furrowed your brows. THis would be a perfect opportunity to escape and leave. “.....Not at all.”

Gojo grins. “Perfect!”

With a quick press, he accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear.

"Suguruuuuuuu! What's up?" Gojo Satoru inquired, his usual carefree demeanor continued to echo in his voice. He sounded almost like a child then. “You missing me already?”

"Satoru, we need to go. Now," Suguru's voice conveyed a sense of urgency that immediately grabbed Satoru's attention. 

Perplexed tones etched across his face, Satoru asked, "What's going on? Why the rush?"

"It's Yaga. He's onto us," Suguru revealed, the gravity of the situation evident in his voice. “Shoko says he’s doing room inspections! Come and find me already!”

Your brows furrowed. You heard of Yaga Masamichi. From what you’ve heard, he was a strict individual. But nicer perhaps than principal Gakuganji. Yet he was highly respected. Utahime-senpai says that he's someone that could control the two strongest sorcerers right now.  whose scrutiny they couldn't afford.

Gojo Satoru's brows furrowed as he processed Suguru's words. The implications of Yaga discovering that they ran away to go and buy the new magazine Waka Inoue was modeling for, they’d be cooked. It was after curfew at the dorms after all. And Shoko could only do so much in distracting Yaga–sensei. 

"We can't let him interfere. I'm on my way," Satoru affirmed, his mind already calculating the fastest route to their meeting point. “Just stay where I left you!”

Suguru's response was a curt, "Hurry already, Satoru. I'm not going to suffer another lecture because of you!"

With a sense of urgency in the air, Satoru swiftly ended the call and pocketed his phone. Suguru's urgent tone had triggered a cascade of events, and they knew they had to act swiftly to avoid detection by Yaga Masamichi. Time was of the essence, and Satoru wasted no time in springing into action, his mind already racing with plans to evade their superior's scrutiny.

However, as he turned back to look at you, a mischievous grin spread across his face. "I hope you won't be a stranger the next time I see you," he remarked playfully, his tone light despite the seriousness of the situation.

You couldn't help but argue back, frustration evident in your voice. "You don't even know me!"

Satoru laughed in response, his laughter ringing out amidst the tension. "No, I won't," he agreed, his grin widening.

Raising a skeptical brow, you challenged him. "And how sure are you of that?"

"Because I'm your pied piper," he replied with a grin, his blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "And you'll follow me, doll."

You couldn't help but snicker at his confident remark. "You can try, you creep."

He tutted in mock offense, smirking at you. "Not a creep."

"Oh? And what are you to me?" you countered, curious despite yourself.

"Your future boyfriend," he quipped with a wink before disappearing into the night, leaving you to ponder his words in the wake of his departure.

You blinked at his words.

You couldn’t process it.

But when you do, you blushed.

“What do you mean by that?”

THE NEXT TIME YOU MEET GOJO SATORU, IT WAS AT THE SISTER SCHOOL GOODWILL EVENT. As you stood beside Atsuya Kusakabe, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach. The presence of Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Shoko Ieiri looming before you sent a shiver down your spine. Their formidable reputation preceded them, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of intimidation wash over you.

To your right stood the first years of Kyoto, their gaze fixed on you and the other first years of Tokyo, Haibara Yu and Nanami Kento. The tension between the two groups was palpable, each side silently sizing up the other in anticipation of the upcoming challenge.

However, it was Gojo Satoru who commanded your attention the most. His white hair stood out in stark contrast against the sea of students, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. His grin, though seemingly friendly, sent a chill down your spine, his gaze seemingly capable of seeing right through you.

Beside you, Kusakabe whispered in concern, his brows furrowed as he observed Gojo's intense scrutiny. "Why is he looking at you like that?" he murmured, his voice tinged with apprehension. "He seems so intimidating... It's creeping me out."

You swallowed hard, your nerves on edge as you tried to mask your own unease. "You don't want to know, Atsuya," you replied tersely, your lips pressed into a thin line as you avoided making eye contact with Gojo. The last thing you needed was to draw any more attention to yourself in this already tense situation.

Kusakabe glanced at you, concern etched on his face. "Is there something I should know?"

You shook your head subtly, your gaze still fixed on the formidable figure of Gojo Satoru. "It's nothing, Atsuya. Let's just focus on the task at hand."

As Yaga-sensei's voice resonated across the courtyard, signaling the start of the Goodwill event, the tension became palpable. Students from both Tokyo and Kyoto exchanged nervous glances, sizing each other up for the imminent challenge.

During the introductions, you found yourself drawn to Geto Suguru's quiet confidence and genuine kindness. In a sea of unfamiliar faces, his presence provided a reassuring anchor, and you couldn't help but feel a budding admiration for the Kyoto sorcerer.

Observing Shoko Ieiri, you recognized echoes of Utahime-senpai in her demeanor—reserved yet poised. Considering the potential camaraderie between them, you made a mental note to introduce the two sorceresses, sensing the possibility of a strong friendship.

However, when it was time to greet Gojo Satoru, a wave of discomfort washed over you. His initially innocent smile quickly morphed into a smirk that sent chills down your spine. The glint of mischief in his eyes was unsettling, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized.

Maintaining a polite demeanor, you exchanged greetings with Gojo Satoru, attempting to mask the unease simmering beneath the surface. Stepping away, you sought to put some distance between yourself and the enigmatic sorcerer, hoping to avoid any further unsettling encounters during the Goodwill event. You didn’t want to interact with him more than you had to. 

But the gods had other plans.

You wanted to scream into the void.

You sighed, looking at him in front of you.

“You missed me already, doll?”

You groaned. “Not you again.”

“Oh, but it is me again!”

As the team battle unfolded, the air crackled with tension as spells clashed and movements blurred in a flurry of action. Atsuya, as the elder of the third years, reluctantly took on the role of leading the charge, a responsibility he openly despised. You couldn't help but stifle a giggle at his visible frown, finding amusement in his discomfort. Despite his aversion to leadership, however, you knew that Atsuya was a capable leader, and you trusted him with your life.

Amidst the chaos of battle, you found yourself locked in a fierce confrontation with none other than Gojo himself. His Six Eyes bore into you with a mix of challenge and curiosity, sparking a determination within you to prove yourself in combat.

"Atsuya, go!" you called out to your friend, your voice carrying a serious tone as you glanced over at him. "I'll handle this!"

"I can't just leave you here!" Atsuya protested, his brows furrowing in concern.

"Yes, you can," you retorted firmly, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You know they'll gain more points if they defeat us with a bigger curse. None of us can lead them there. Go!"

With a reluctant nod, Atsuya finally relented and dashed off to join the fray. "Damn you, you stubborn idiot!" he shouted back at you over his shoulder as he hurried away.

"You can yap on about it later!" you called after him, your attention fully focused on preparing to face Gojo Satoru head-on. Ready to prove your mettle, you readied your spear and braced yourself for the coming confrontation.

“Don’t tell me I have a love rival.” Gojo Satoru exclaimed back at you. “Already? It’s only been a couple of months!”

As Gojo Satoru frowned at you with a hint of playful jealousy in his expression, you couldn't help but blink in surprise. His words caught you off guard, and a rush of heat flooded your cheeks as you processed his implications.

"Idiot, he's not my lover," you retorted, your voice tinged with embarrassment. "And also, I haven't accepted you as anything!"

To your surprise, Gojo gasped dramatically, feigning hurt. "Do you not care about my feelings right now?" he exclaimed in mock dismay, his expression comically exaggerated. "I thought we had something special!"

Rolling your eyes at his theatrics, you shook your head in exasperation. "Just shut up and fight already!" you snapped, feeling flustered by the unexpected turn in conversation. Raising your spear defensively, you focused your attention on the task at hand, determined to push aside any distractions and focus on the battle ahead.

As you unleashed your cursed technique, a surge of power pulsed through you, and the world around you seemed to come to a standstill. Time itself bent to your will, freezing everything in its tracks, including Gojo Satoru. His eyes widened in surprise as he found himself unable to move, trapped in the temporal stasis you had created.

In that frozen moment, you seized the opportunity, rushing towards him with determination etched on your face. Your spear gleamed in the dim light, poised to strike with precision. With each step, you closed the distance between you and Gojo, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline surged through your veins.

But just as you were about to deliver the finishing blow, time began to unfurl once more, and Gojo's eyes snapped back into motion. With lightning-fast reflexes, he blocked your attack with his arms, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the air.

You glared at him, unfazed by his sudden resurgence. Despite the interruption, you maintained your focus, the anticipation crackling in the air as you pressed forward with your assault. With each movement, your actions were fluid and precise, navigating the battlefield with expert skill and unwavering determination.

“You can stop time.” He says it ever so nonchalantly as he moves opposite you. He looks excited at the thought. “I’d not seen someone who could do that.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wary of his sudden interest. "And you can control six eyes," you retort, keeping your guard up as you face him.

Gojo's grin widens at your response, his excitement palpable as he revels in the thrill of the battle. "True," he acknowledges, his gaze never wavering from yours. "But your technique is truly remarkable. It's not often I encounter someone with such unique abilities."

Despite your wariness, a sense of pride swells within you at his compliment. You may not trust him entirely, but his recognition of your skills is undeniably gratifying. "I don't plan on showing it off to anyone else," you reply, your tone firm as you assert your determination to keep your abilities hidden from prying eyes.

Gojo chuckles, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he takes a step closer. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," he reassures you, his grin bordering on mischievous. "But I can't promise I won't be tempted to challenge you again in the future."

You meet his gaze head-on, a flicker of amusement crossing your features. "You're welcome to try," you challenge, a hint of defiance lacing your words as you prepare for whatever comes next in this unpredictable encounter.

As the whitish-blue energy emitted from you, the world around you seemed to slow to a crawl. Time itself bent to your will, your cursed technique designed to confuse Gojo's Six Eyes and gain the upper hand in the battle. With a surge of energy, you invoked your technique, causing the air to crackle with anticipation as you prepared to launch your next attack.

Swiftly, you rushed towards Gojo, your spear poised for a strike. But Gojo, ever the formidable opponent, anticipated your move, dodging your attack with lightning-fast reflexes. In the frozen moment, you focused all of your concentration on him, analyzing his movements and calculating your next move with precision and skill.

With determination burning in your veins, you aimed your spear at his defenses, ready to strike with lethal force. The air hummed with energy as you unleash your attack, your movements fluid and precise as you sought to break through Gojo's defenses and emerge victorious in this epic clash of wills.

Even as time seemed to stand still, Gojo's unparalleled skill and formidable abilities allowed him to break free from your temporal grasp. His six eyes scanned your every move with unwavering focus, enabling him to anticipate and counter your attacks with lightning-fast reflexes. With effortless grace, he parried your strikes with precision, effectively neutralizing your offensive maneuvers.

Despite this setback, you refused to waver in your determination. Fueled by an unyielding resolve, you continued to press forward, undeterred by the formidable opponent standing before you. As time resumed its normal flow, the intensity of the clash between you and Gojo only grew, each of you unleashing a relentless barrage of attacks in a desperate bid for victory. The air crackled with energy as the battle raged on, the outcome hanging in the balance as you fought tooth and nail for supremacy on the battlefield.

As the battle reached its climax, you and Gojo exchanged fierce blows, each strike resonating with the force of your determination. With each clash of your weapons, the courtyard seemed to tremble under the weight of your confrontation.

Amidst the chaos of the battle, Gojo's voice cut through the air, filled with a mixture of amusement and admiration. "You're quite the fighter," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine respect.

You gritted your teeth, your focus unwavering as you continued to press forward. "Save your compliments for after I defeat you," you retorted, your voice laced with determination.

Gojo chuckled, the sound reverberating through the air. "Confidence suits you," he replied, his six eyes gleaming with anticipation. "But don't underestimate me."

With renewed determination, you launched yourself into another flurry of attacks, each strike fueled by the intensity of your desire to emerge victorious. The clash of your weapons echoed through the courtyard, a symphony of steel and determination as you fought tooth and nail for supremacy.

Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, you refused to back down, drawing upon every ounce of your strength and resolve to overcome the formidable opponent standing before you. With each strike and evasion, you could feel yourself growing stronger, more attuned to the flow of battle as you sought to outmaneuver Gojo at every turn.

As the battle raged on, the tension in the air reached its peak, the outcome hanging in the balance as you and Gojo locked horns in a battle of wills. With the fate of the Goodwill event hanging in the balance, you steeled yourself for the final push, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead in your quest for victory.

It was as if the courtyard seemed to hold its breath, heavy anticipation pressuring thick in the air. With every strike and parry, you and Gojo danced around each other in a mesmerizing display of skill and determination.

Suddenly, Gojo's expression shifted, a glint of excitement flickering in his eyes as he launched a powerful attack. With lightning-fast reflexes, you countered his move, deflecting his strike with precision and skill. The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, shaking the very ground beneath your feet.

In response, you unleashed a devastating barrage of attacks, your movements fueled by a surge of adrenaline and determination. With each strike, you pushed yourself to the limit, channeling all of your energy into overpowering Gojo and emerging victorious.

As the battle raged on, the courtyard became a whirlwind of motion and energy, the clash of your weapons echoing through the air. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against you, you refused to back down, drawing upon every ounce of strength and skill at your disposal.

You watched as the dust settled and the echoes of your clash faded. It was over. You smiled as you stood victorious, your chest heaving with exertion as you surveyed the battlefield. The adrenaline coursing through your veins slowly began to ebb away, leaving behind a profound sense of accomplishment and pride.

With a mixture of relief and satisfaction washing over you, you allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath. The weight of the battle lifted from your shoulders, replaced by a surge of elation at your hard-won victory. Despite the exhaustion that gnawed at your muscles and bones, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline-fueled excitement coursing through your veins. 

You could feel the rustling movements of your defeated opponent. Gojo Satoru was too good at drawing your attention back to the fallen figure of Gojo Satoru. His eyes met yours with a mixture of awe and admiration, his expression a stark contrast to the confident smirk you had grown accustomed to.

"I..." His voice was barely above a whisper as he struggled to rise to his feet, his gaze unwavering as it bore into yours. "You're strong too, huh."

You raised a brow, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. His words hung in the air, lingering between you like an unspoken challenge.

"Yeah, what of it?" you replied, your tone tinged with a hint of defiance.

"Marry me," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips in a rush of emotion.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, stunned into silence by his sudden proposal. The world seemed to come to a standstill as you processed his unexpected declaration.

"What?" you stammered, unable to comprehend the gravity of his words.

"I'm serious," he insisted, his gaze never wavering as he looked up at you from where he lay on the ground.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation, the tension of the battle giving way to a wave of amusement. "You're serious? You just met me, Gojo. Don't you think you're moving a little too fast?"

He grinned up at you, undeterred by your skepticism. "Hey, when you know, you know. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

You shook your head incredulously at his persistence. "You're insane, you know that?"

“Well, I did say it.” He exclaimed at you. “I’m your pied piper.”

“Good luck making that happen, Gojo.”

“Oh trust me, it will.”

As Gojo leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye, you braced yourself for whatever ridiculous stunt he had planned next. But nothing could have prepared you for the sudden warmth of his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes widened in shock at the unexpected gesture, your mind reeling with confusion and surprise.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you grappled with the intensity of the moment. Gojo's lips were warm against yours, his touch gentle yet firm as he held you close. And then, in an instant, it was over, leaving you breathless and flustered in its wake.

As he pulled away, a smug grin played on his lips, his eyes dancing with amusement at your stunned expression. "I couldn't help it," he confessed, his voice low and husky. "You just look so pretty when you're flustered."

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, your entire face flushing scarlet as you struggled to regain your composure. "You... you're impossible," you stammered, your words coming out in a breathless whisper.

Gojo chuckled at your reaction, a playful sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. "I'll take that as a compliment," he replied, his grin widening at your flustered state.

The next day, you called in sick for the individual games.

You couldn’t handle it, seeing Gojo Satoru again.

You really wanted to curse out Gojo Satoru, you really did.

Because now you realize, you can’t stop thinking about him.

Your heart flutters at the thought of seeing him smile at you.

But most of all, you think about when you’ll kiss him again.

THE NEXT TIME YOU BOTH SEE EACH OTHER, YOU WANTED TO RUN AWAY. Months had passed between that kiss and yet, you kept thinking of him. He started getting busier these past few months, the higher ups giving him more and more missions on his own.  As the evening progressed, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled deep within your bones. Each time you glanced in his direction, you felt a wave of heat wash over you, your palms growing clammy as beads of sweat formed on your forehead. It was as if his mere presence had a magnetic pull, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame.

Sitting across from his table, you could feel his eyes on you, boring into your very soul with an intensity that left you breathless. Despite the lively chatter and laughter that filled the banquet hall, you couldn't escape the sensation of being watched, the weight of his gaze hanging heavy in the air like a suffocating fog.

Beside you, Atsuya attempted to engage you in conversation, his voice a distant echo against the backdrop of your racing thoughts. You struggled to focus on his words, your mind consumed by the overwhelming presence of Gojo Satoru.

The speeches being delivered by the higher-ups faded into background noise as your attention remained fixated on him. Normally, you would have been attentive, eager to absorb every word spoken by the esteemed guests. However, tonight was different. Tonight, your mind was clouded with thoughts of him, your senses heightened by his proximity.

Principal Gakuganji's quizzes at important functions flashed in the back of your mind, a reminder of the need to remain sharp and focused. Yet, despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of being enveloped by his gaze, his Six Eyes piercing through you like daggers throughout the night.

Your eyes inadvertently met those of Gojo Satoru, who stood across the room, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Despite the lively atmosphere of the banquet, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease under the weight of his unwavering stare.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, the sensation of Gojo's gaze following your every move. Each time you glanced in his direction, you found his eyes locked on yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense your discomfort.

Despite your best efforts to focus on the festivities, you couldn't deny the effect his presence had on you. The way he looked at you, with a mixture of amusement and intrigue, stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you, leaving you feeling flustered and off-balance.

With each passing moment, the intensity of his gaze seemed to grow, until you found yourself unable to concentrate on anything else. Every time you tried to engage in conversation with others, you couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, his presence looming over you like a lingering shadow. But you knew just as much, you couldn’t help yourself to look at him too. To yearn for him too. 

As Gojo Satoru's gaze locked onto yours, a pristine smile graced his lips, sending a shiver down your spine. You knew that look all too well, and it filled you with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. His small wave caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but blink in surprise before quickly averting your gaze, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Beside you, Atsuya noticed your sudden change in demeanor and leaned in, concern etched across his features. "Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice filled with worry.

You nodded hastily, your panicked tones barely audible as you whispered back, "I'm fine, just... a bit overwhelmed."

As you turned away from Gojo, you could feel his gaze lingering on you, his eyes following your every move with a predatory intensity. His smile only widened as he observed your flustered state, a knowing glint in his eyes as if he found your discomfort amusing.

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru's thoughts were consumed by you. It had been so long since the Goodwill event, and he couldn't shake the memory of your fierce determination and unwavering strength in battle. Despite his attempts to reach out to you, you had refused to call him back, leaving him longing for more.

He couldn't let you slip away now, not after you had already left such a lasting impression on him. The taste of sin lingered on his lips from that fateful encounter, and he craved more of your sweet essence. He was willing to risk everything, even the ire of Principal Gakuganji, to have you by his side. With a sense of determination burning in his heart, Gojo Satoru resolved to lead you astray like a pied piper, guiding you down a path of forbidden desire and unbridled passion. And he was confident that you would follow, unable to resist the allure of his magnetic charm and the promise of untold ecstasy.

Soon after that, you excused yourself to the restroom, you couldn't shake the feeling of Gojo Satoru's gaze burning into your back. You hurriedly made your way through the crowded hallways, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the silence of your mind. With each passing moment, the anticipation gnawed at your insides, the weight of his unspoken desires heavy on your shoulders.

Moments later, you found yourself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, your hands trembling as you tried to steady your nerves. The events of the evening swirled in your mind, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you whole. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging within you, but the turmoil refused to relent.

Just then, the door swung open, and Gojo Satoru stepped into the restroom, his presence filling the space with an intensity that left you breathless. His bright blue eyes bore into yours, a silent plea echoing in their depths as he closed the distance between you.

"We need to talk," He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumultuous emotions coursing through your veins. The air crackled with tension as you stood face to face, the space between you charged with an electric energy that defied explanation.

"I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped your face in his hands. "I've tried to stay away, to wait for you. But I can't resist you any longer. And I know…I know you can’t do it anymore too.”

A surge of warmth flooded your chest at his words, your heart pounding in rhythm with his as you leaned into his touch. Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left you gasping for air.

In that moment, the world fell away, and all that mattered was the intoxicating taste of his lips against yours, the heat of his touch searing into your skin as you lost yourself in the blissful oblivion of his embrace. He pushes you against the vibrant marble walls, your hands getting lost in his snow locks. You couldn’t breathe, but neither could he. It doesn’t matter. 

He wanted to be ruined by you.

He wanted to ruin all of you. 

You bit his lower lip harshly.

You wanted to tease him.

You wanted to draw him in. 

He kisses you deeper. 

You wanted more too.

The sound of footsteps echoed faintly in the hallway outside, mingling with the distant hum of conversation as people moved about, oblivious to the intimate moment unfolding behind closed doors. Yet, despite the faint cacophony of activity, the bathroom felt like a sanctuary, cocooning you and Gojo Satoru in a bubble of privacy where time seemed to stand still.

With each passing second, the outside world faded into the background, the only sound that mattered was the soft, steady rhythm of your breath mingling with his. The air crackled with an electric energy, charged with the anticipation of what was to come.

In the intimate confines of the restroom, you and Gojo stood locked in a silent embrace, your bodies pressed together as if drawn by an invisible force. The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a timeless moment of shared desire.

Despite the faint awareness of the world beyond the bathroom door, it was as if nothing else existed outside the bubble of intimacy you had created. The sound of people coming and going served as a distant backdrop to the palpable tension that hung in the air, heightening the intensity of the connection between you and Gojo with each passing moment.

His heart was racing as he looked at you standing in front of him. Your hair was messy, and your face flushed with excitement. He reached out and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer to him. Your lips met again, and this time, there was no holding back. When you parted lips, it didn’t last very long. You came back as soon as your lungs filled with enough air to sustain that hunger. Your hands roaming all over each other's bodies. 

As you broke apart for a moment, you whispered in his ear, "I want you so bad right now."

Without any further words exchanged, Gojo Satoru began to unbutton your blouse, revealing your soft, smooth skin underneath. He trailed kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. His hands found their way through your body, and he cupped your flesh in his palms. You moaned into his mouth, feeling his hot breath against your skin. Satoru moved his hand lower, removing your trousers with endless ease. With one swift motion, he pulled it up, exposing your legs to the cool air of the bathroom. He couldn't help but grin at how beautiful you looked in nothing but your underwear.

The rest of your clothes came off quickly after that, and soon you were naked together in the small space. You had never done anything like this before, but you both knew what you wanted from each other. As you lay on the floor of the bathroom, Satoru felt you move beneath him. He slid his fingers through your hair, gently stroking your scalp as he kissed your neck.

You arched your back, giving him better access to your body. He let out a deep groan, feeling your heat and wetness against his hand. You continued to make love in the cramped space, the sounds of your passion echoing throughout the empty alleyway. It was intense and intimate, something neither of you would ever forget.

His hands were only warm for you.

He was ruining you, you were ruining him.

But every touch was forgiveness.

Every touch was life blossoming over and over.

You can’t live without the pied piper leading you.

Nor could he live without you, following him.

You wrapped your arms around him.

He squeezes his hold on you tighter.

“I love you.” He whispers on your neck.

You smile. “I know.”

extra: back at Jujutsu High

As you lay entwined with Gojo Satoru in the aftermath of your passionate encounter, the air was thick with the lingering scent of your shared desire. The room was bathed in a warm, hazy glow, the soft light casting shadows across the walls as you basked in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

The night had been a whirlwind of fervent kisses and eager exploration, each touch igniting a fire within you that burned with an insatiable hunger. It had been a greedy night, filled with a longing that consumed you both, yet left you yearning for more.

But as the hours passed and the intensity of your passion began to ebb, a sense of exhaustion settled over you, weighing heavily on your limbs and clouding your thoughts. You could feel the ache of exertion in every muscle, the physical manifestation of your fervent lovemaking.

Yet, despite the weariness that threatened to consume you, Gojo's care and attentiveness never wavered. With gentle hands, he helped you clean yourself, washing away the traces of your shared desire with a tenderness that left you breathless.

He made sure you were fed and hydrated, tending to your needs with a thoughtfulness that touched your heart. His massages were soothing, his touch gentle yet firm as he worked out the knots of tension that lingered in your body.

Despite his efforts to comfort you, sleep eluded you both, the lingering adrenaline of your passion keeping you awake long into the night. You lay beside him, your bodies intertwined in a tangle of limbs, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

As the minutes stretched into hours, you found solace in the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you into a sense of peace. In that moment, surrounded by nothing but the quiet sanctuary of his dorm, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Both of you settled deeper and deeper in each other’s flesh.  The world didn’t exist beyond the confines of this bed, both of you want to believe. It was too enjoyable to be comfortable with each other, abandoning the world. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the sound of your steady breaths mingling in the air. Satoru’s bright blue eyes searched for yours, a softness replacing the usual mischief in his gaze.

"I meant what I said before," He finally began, his voice echoing every essence of sincerity."I want to marry you"

You felt a pang of warmth and uncertainty grip your heart at his words. "But we're so young," you protested softly, the weight of his proposal settling heavily on your shoulders.

Gojo's expression softened as he reached out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "I know we are," he admitted, his thumb tracing delicate patterns along your cheek. "But I'm serious about this. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

You met his gaze, searching for any hint of doubt in his eyes, but all you found was unwavering sincerity. With a deep breath, you nodded slowly, a flicker of hope igniting within you.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "But I need time to think."

Gojo's lips curled into a tender smile as he leaned in to kiss you softly, his lips conveying a depth of emotion words could never express. "I'll wait for you," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against your cheek. "I'll wait for as long as it takes."

As you melted into his embrace, a sense of peace washed over you, knowing that no matter what the future held, you had found someone who would stand by your side through it all. and in that moment, as you lay together in the quiet sanctuary of his dorm, surrounded by nothing but each other's love, you knew that everything would be okay.

You never felt more comfortable in your entire life.

Being in his arms felt like finally coming home.

The world could wait, you think to yourself.

Right now, being together — it's all that you want.

[mononijikayu]

let you break my heart again — ieiri shoko.

When Shoko finally looked at you, that’s when she sprang the pains that came like the hard pouring rain. Your smile never left your face as your own rain poured out of you, consoling her as her head fell onto your hand and staining your own body with the tears that poured out of love. Out of the love that Shoko chose to bear even in its painful, mortal conclusion. No words were said, there was never any need to. No words had ever been needed to express your grief. The grief that comes with the parting that should come sooner than we had hoped and dreamed.

GENRE: Pre-Fearsome Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Angst, Banter, Romance, Pining, Grief, Mourning, Death, Depiction of Illness, Depiction of Near Death, Depiction of Grief, Depiction of Smoking, Depiction of Nausea;

masterlist

buono san valentino, 2024;

listen: let you break my heart again by laufey

SHOKO IEIRI FELT LIKE SHE WAS GOING TO LOSE IT.  She looked at the findings as if it was ever something alien. She looks at Satoru, who doesn’t seem like he could breathe either. Shoko didn’t know if this was reality or if this was a dream. She pinches herself so hard, she draws a trail of blood. This was real, then. It was real.  And she hated it. She hated it too much. 

When she got out of the room, Satoru, following behind her, leaned into the wall. She watched him rest his head on the wall, a deep breath releasing from his parted lips. She couldn’t breathe at all. The air in her lungs felt as though they were about to combust. She felt like flowers that could no longer blossom, left barren into the dust of a field abandoned. There was like a fire burning throughout her body, as the hot tears fell as easily as pouring rain. 

Her legs were giving out, as though the ground had gone into a plethora of storms, of rumbling earthquakes that would never stop. Falling onto the metal bench with a thump, she wipes her tears, but they keep pouring and pouring. She was defeated, defeated by a reopened echo of grief. One that never healed. One that was so full of unspoken stories, unspoken tears, unspoken pain.  

“I can’t believe this.” Satoru breaks the silence from where he stood. “This shouldn’t be happening. Not to her.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Shoko replies, her voice higher than she expected. Her head slumps down, tears ricocheting on the pristine white floors.

Satoru doesn’t reply.

He didn’t know how to.

Not when Shoko loved her more than anyone ever could.

More than even him, the brother that yearns to protect her.

“I just….” Shoko purses her lips at him, wiping her tears and slowly rising her head. “Does she know?”

“.....She’s felt unwell for a long time, Sho.” Satoru sighs, slouching against the wall. “I don’t even think she’s expected to live this long. Not when that cursed deity with Nanami and Haibara cursed her back.”

Shoko vividly recalled that fateful day when you were brought into her medical facility, battered and broken from the brutal encounter. The sight of you lying unconscious on her table, your body covered in cuts and deep wounds, sent a shiver down her spine. Blood oozed from every part of you, staining the pristine surface of the medical table with crimson hues.

Despite the severity of your injuries, you were still clinging to life, each labored breath a testament to your resilience. Shoko's heart ached as she watched your blue eyes fluttering between consciousness and the looming darkness. She knew that your survival hung in the balance, and she refused to give up on you.

With unwavering determination, Shoko tapped into her powers, allowing her cursed energy to flow through her and into your battered body. She poured every ounce of her strength into healing you, even as exhaustion threatened to consume her. Beads of sweat formed on her brow as she worked tirelessly, channeling her energy into restoring your broken form.

The room seemed to blur around her as she focused all her attention on you, the sound of your shallow breaths the only thing that mattered. The world outside of you, of you living, didn’t matter at that moment. She pushed herself beyond her limits, pouring every last ounce of her cursed energy into the effort to save your life.

In those tense moments, Shoko's only desire was for you to live. She refused to let death claim you, clinging to the hope that her efforts would be enough to pull you back from the brink. And as she worked tirelessly to mend your broken body, she whispered silent prayers for your survival, willing you to fight against the darkness that threatened to engulf you.

Satoru finally sat beside Shoko, his expression grave as they discussed the difficult situation they found themselves in. The weight of impending loss hung heavily in the air, casting a somber tone over their conversation. He had never wanted to have this conversation. Not so soon after Suguru. But he knew he wouldn’t have any choice. Not this time. His sister’s been lucky once. But there’s no guarantee if there will be luck when the time comes. His hands slowly succumbs to fists. 

"We can't keep pretending like everything's going to be alright," Satoru said softly. Shoko could feel that rare echo of sorrow, of loneliness, of grief that Satoru buries inside. But that was evident. This was what remained of his soul, Shoko thinks. It was his sister that kept him grounded through every loss that had come since the loss of their blue youth. “I….I can’t keep pretending like everything’s alright.”

“Gojo, if I just—”

"My sister's condition is worsening by the day, and we both know that there's little hope left." Satoru replies back, shutting down all arguments. Shoko purses her lips. “You know that Reversed Cursed Technique hasn’t worked in a while.”

Shoko looks away again. 

She felt like she needed a cigarette.

She needed to feel high on something.

To ignore this gaping feeling in her chest.

She takes a deep breath.

“I know.”

In the somber atmosphere of the hospital room, a heavy silence descended like a thick fog, enveloping Satoru and Shoko in its palpable weight. There are no words, when you already know what the other is thinking. They somehow always knew each other that way. Not even Suguru could understand that. More so, the love they both had for the younger Gojo. It was a silence pregnant with unspoken emotions, each beat of their hearts resonating with the gravity of the impending loss looming over them.

As they sat side by side, their thoughts consumed by the impending farewell they would soon face. A farewell that was final, a farewell that they knew they could not accompany you to. Shoko leaned against the metallic back, feeling the cold unfeeling breath under her white coat. Shoko thinks that the silence between them seemed to stretch infinitely.

Satoru must have thought that he had already said enough. Enough for a lifetime. It was too raw, too vulnerable. Too honest. He was shedding too much of himself. Shoko thinks the same way. She thinks that it would have been fine to have kept her emotions to herself. To have locked away that deepest part of you. Ones that only you could touch. 

It was a silence pregnant with unspoken words, a poignant reminder of the depth of their shared sorrow. In this profound stillness, every breath they took felt like a burden, each exhale a release of the heavy emotions weighing down their hearts. The weight of impending loss hung in the air like a shroud, casting a shadow over their souls and suffusing the room with a solemn aura.

Despite the absence of spoken words, the silence spoke volumes, conveying the depth of their emotions more eloquently than any words ever could. It was a silence pregnant with unspoken sentiments of love, grief, and an overwhelming sense of helplessness in the face of fate's relentless march.

Gojo Satoru's heart clenched with a mixture of anguish and determination as he grappled with the impending loss of his sister. The weight of knowing that her time was running out pressed down on him like a heavy burden, a constant reminder of the fragile nature of life itself. The thought of bidding her farewell without making the most of the precious time they had left together was unbearable to him.

They were not twins, but their bond was deep-rooted and unbreakable. Satoru had grown up in a world where he often felt like a mere tool, a means to an end in the eyes of others. However, his sister's unwavering love and support had been a beacon of light in his life, a source of solace and comfort that kept him grounded in the midst of chaos. Your smile had the power to lift his spirits and make him feel like he was capable of anything.

In their childhood, you had been his lifeline, the one who made him feel truly human amidst the harsh realities of their upbringing. Long before Suguru or Shoko entered his life, you had been his rock, his constant companion through thick and thin. And now, the prospect of losing you left him feeling utterly devastated.

As he grappled with his emotions, Satoru couldn't help but reflect on the profound impact his sister had made on his life. You had been his pillar of strength, his source of joy and laughter, and the thought of her imminent departure left a gaping void in his heart that he feared would never be filled.

"We have to make the most of the time we have left with her," Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with resolve despite the tremor betraying his emotions. His gaze was fixed to the ceiling. “I’ll talk to her. Tell her what’s going to happen. You…you don’t have to watch.”

“No, I….I wanna be there.” Shoko murmurs against the nauseating hospital air. “I don’t think….I should leave her.”

Satoru nods. “Alright.”

They stood up together. 

Side by side they walked.

He opened your room's door.

You smiled the brightest.

Shoko Ieiri wanted to cry.

YOU OPTED TO BE TAKEN HOME AFTER YOU FOUND OUT. Her elder brother didn’t argue with her. Nor did Shoko. Instead, the silent agreement was to pretend. To pretend they just didn’t hear the worst news of their lives. You talked ever so energetically, as though nothing was wrong. Satoru teased you back and you laughed so much. Shoko knew that he loved that — you always get his jokes.

Shoko wanted to puke her guts out. To cry out loud. To curse and curse until nothing was left to be cursed. Yet she knew she couldn’t do that. Not to you. Not when you smiled so happily, asking her to sit by your side while Satoru handled her release from the hospital. When Satoru left, the two of you were left in the room. 

You eagerly asked Shoko to turn on the television, so you can watch some mundane show you  had started to get into recently. You were vibrantly describing what you loved about it. You kept explaining what the gimmicks they had, which guests they brought on. On and on and on. And Shoko just listened. She smiled, giving the responses that you would like to hear. Ones that spread such a bright smile on your lips—the same smiles Shoko deemed her lifeline.

Shoko kept up that front for days on end, for weeks, for months. It really didn’t matter how long she was going to play charades. It didn’t matter how long she had to play games with a mask on her face. What mattered was that you were still here, that you were still here for Shoko to hold. You were still here for Shoko to laugh with. You were still here for Shoko to love. And that’s everything that mattered.

It didn’t matter if she didn't remember picking up herself piece by piece every day, trying to remove the blinding tears from her face. It didn’t matter if she can’t count how many times she’d wiped the hurtful scowl off her lips and turned it into the smile that she loved so much. The wobbly legs did not even feel straight or strong as they walked into those plain wooden frames. That didn’t matter. Not when she would go to Gojo Manor, walk those cold dry halls and end up where the sun shone. Ieiri Shoko would just stand there, to admire the love of her life —cling to life with all that’s good in the world etched into you.

Your sitting position held a quiet elegance, a book cradled in your lap as she leaned against the sturdy trunk of a tree. The scene stirred a bittersweet ache within him, evoking memories of happier days spent beneath the shade of a similar tree in the park. It was there that they had shared moments of laughter and intimacy, their names etched into the bark as a testament to their bond.

The sight of you now, immersed in that little book book with the gentle rustle of leaves by the window pane, transported her back to those cherished moments from their past. How you slept under the tree together, her laying on your lap in those wonderful summer days. The pain of nostalgia mingled with the beauty of the present, creating a poignant tableau of love and loss. As she watched you, she couldn't help but long for the simplicity of those days, when their love was young and untainted by the passage of time.

There was a threat of tears that were coming once again. It wasn’t something Shoko could not help with, not that she couldn’t bear it. It was too much. These moments would soon be dried ink. They would be memories just as they are — stagnant, frozen for all of time. Fading into time, into a small frame filled with the very dust that she had avoided. Fading into the word yesterday. The word yesterday had so desperately been blocked from the brunette’s mind. She hated past tenses then, and she hated them now. More than ever. But it was unavoidable. Mortals have no choice with the measure of time, even if one could say it was made up.

Time stretches infinitely into the future, a vast expanse that knows no bounds, while the human form is finite, bound by the limits of flesh and bone. Memories, too, are finite, fleeting moments captured in the recesses of the mind. She couldn't feel the steady beat of her chest, nor the rush of air in her lungs. She was broken, shattered into fragments too small to piece back together.

In the silence of her despair, she grappled with the harsh reality that each passing moment would soon become nothing more than a memory, etched into the fabric of her being like deep scars on her soul. The person she had come to love, with all their flaws and imperfections, was as finite as she was. Her lips trembled with the weight of unspoken words, longing to express the pain and anguish that consumed her.

But there was only emptiness, a void that echoed with the absence of comfort or solace. No words could ease the burden of her grief, no condolences could mend the shattered pieces of her heart. In the darkness of her despair, she found herself adrift, lost in a sea of sorrow with no lifeline to pull her back to shore. 

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Shoko's voice, tinged with concern, echoed in the dimly lit room as she leaned against the door frame, her gaze fixed on the figure sitting up in bed.

"And have leg cramps again?" The blue eyed woman laughed, waving off Shoko's concern with a dismissive gesture. "No thank you."

The brown-eyed woman sighed, a mixture of exasperation and affection evident in her expression. "You're always so stubborn, even when it comes to your health."

"But you wouldn't scold me for it anyway," You retorted with a playful grin, cheeks flushed teasingly. Shoko couldn't help but admire her in that moment, finding her endearing when flustered. "You love me too much to do that."

‘Hm,’ Shoko mused silently, lost in thought at the mention of love. ‘You're too right and yet too oblivious about it.’

"You're staring again." The gentle tone of your voice pulled Shoko out of her thoughts. It was like your words touched her like a soft breeze in the room.

“Is something wrong with that?” The brunette’s eyebrow raised.

"I didn't know you could be such a creeper," You teased, your laughter like music to Shoko's ears.

"You're too pretty," Shoko sighed, unable to contain the admiration in her voice. "Can't I look at you more?"

You snickered in response. "You're too much of a tease, aren't you?"

"Only for you," Shoko whispered softly, a hint of affection coloring her words. "You know that."

"Hm," You hummed in agreement, your eyes sparkling with affection as you met Shoko's gaze. "I know."

"Satoru's coming back later," Shoko informed you, shifting the conversation. She didn’t want to dig old bones from the closet. “Did he call you?”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "Hm, he called me. He said that he had daifuku mochi for me to taste."

Shoko shook her head. "You hate sugary things."

"Just like you," You giggled softly, your eyes filled with warmth as you looked at Shoko tenderly. "But that's okay. Satoru likes them. And by extension, I like them too."

"Are you sure you aren't twins?" Shoko quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.

She burst into laughter. "They all ask that."

“But you’ll never be your brother.” Shoko whispers slyly. “You’re too nice, flower.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Satoru would cry if he heard that.”

Shoko snickers. “I don’t care. That would look fun to see.”

“Hm, I suppose so.”

With a small sigh, you set the book aside and leaned towards the small lamp table with slight effort. The strain was evident in your smallest movements, the subtle signs of discomfort flickering across your face. Shoko could see it all in full view, the hidden pain you tried so hard not to show. You didn't want to burden anyone with your struggles, so you’ve learned to mask your discomfort with a veil of quiet strength. That was what people expected a Gojo would do, after all.

Shoko couldn't help but ponder on how you and Satoru had grown up learning to conceal their pain, to endure silently without drawing attention to themselves. It was a skill they had honed over the years, a facade of resilience they wore like armor. Yet even now, amidst your own suffering, you exuded warmth and kindness effortlessly. Shoko doesn’t know how you maintain such endless generosity, such endless warmth. She half thinks you’re an angel, one that was too good for this world.

As you settled your hands on your lap, a gentle smile graced your lips. It was a smile that radiated warmth, causing the beautiful craters of your cheeks to blossom like flowers in the summertime. Despite the pain you bore, you remained a beacon of light, your resilience shining through in the delicate curve of your smile.

Shoko had always thought you to be the most beautiful human she had ever seen. And even now, knowing the inevitable, she still thinks the same. You were still so breathtakingly beautiful, a marvel of the world that Shoko could only admire in awe. Moving towards you, Shoko took a small stool and sat down gently beside you. With great care, she reached for one of your hands, holding it delicately as she gazed at it.

Shoko had always been captivated by the gentle grace of your presence, as if you were a celestial being crafted by the heavens themselves. She remembered the first time they met, how you had stood alongside Haibara Yu and Kento Nanami, bright and bubbly amidst the sea of new faces. They were first years then, just below them in the hierarchy, all adorned with the bright-colored sashes that Satoru had insisted they wear. 

Suguru had prepared bright confetti poppers for the occasion, and even Yaga had agreed to the festivities, swayed by Satoru's infectious enthusiasm and the anticipation of his sister's arrival. Most because he had been good in the last couple of missions. He really wanted to do well for his sister’s sake.

When you were told to introduce yourself, such a tender voice came out. Such a stark contrast to your brother. Shoko could feel her dulled eyes lifted, and for the first time, truly, Shoko felt the warmth of the sun on her face. It was as if the world had come alive in that moment, illuminated by the radiance of the younger Gojo, who stood there beaming with all the light and joy you could muster.

Every day since then, Shoko thinks she’s dedicated all her life these past ten years to just loving you. Loving you over and over until she ends up drinking another round of beer, wondering how many times can she keep this up. Letting you break her heart over and over again. Shoko knows that she loves you too much, too much to pretend that you would never mean those three words beyond that from your friendship. 

Yet she still clings to the smiles that echo from you at every joke she makes. she still clings to the good days when your condition allows her to enjoy your company in those rare sunny days. She still clings to hope that even without those words said, you would spend the rest of your lives together. And yet, she knew better than that. She knew that you knew better than that. 

You’ve always said that you can’t fall in love. Not when you knew how limited those years you were going to be blessed with. You always knew that. And you didn’t want to make anyone suffer. You didn’t want to make anyone feel so lonely, so alone with your death. Yet that didn’t stop you from imprinting your soul onto Ieiri Shoko. And perhaps she would never have it any other way. She had never regretted it. She could never regret you. 

You were a wonderful experience.

You were her everything.

And she can’t let you go.

Shoko's fingers traced the contours of your hands, committing each line and mark to memory. She felt the slight indentations left behind by hospital bands, the reminders of countless injections and treatments endured in the fight for your life. Despite the toll taken on your body, your hands remained remarkably gentle, almost sacred in their touch. They were a testament to resilience, a symbol of the enduring spirit that had carried you through the darkest of times.

In that moment, your hands became the epitome of life's wonder for Shoko. They were the vessels through which the essence of your being flowed, each touch a reminder of the preciousness of existence. Despite the pain and suffering you had endured, your hands exuded a genuine warmth and vitality that resonated deeply with Shoko.

As she held onto them, she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. These hands, so battered and yet so full of life, had given her the gift of connection and intimacy. They allowed her to experience a closeness that transcended words, a silent exchange of love and appreciation that needed no verbal expression.

In that moment, as she felt the warmth of your hands in hers, Shoko offered a silent thanks to the universe. She was grateful for the opportunity to hold onto this fleeting moment, to savor the precious time she had with you, if only for a little while longer.

“I’m sorry.” Those were the first words that came out of her mouth after a while. 

Shoko's grip tightened on your hands, her silent apology reverberating through the room. In the depths of her heart, she carried a heavy burden of regret, a weight that threatened to crush her beneath its unforgiving pressure. She was sorry for every moment she let silence consume her, for every instance she allowed grief to overshadow her strength.

Her heart ached with the knowledge that she hadn't been able to shield you from pain, despite her promises to protect you. She felt a profound sense of failure, a deep-seated guilt that gnawed at her conscience. She wished she could have done more, could have kept you safe for longer, but the cruel hand of fate had dealt them a devastating blow, cutting short your time together in a way that felt unbearably unjust.

Above all, she was sorry for her own perceived pity, for her inability to defy the inevitable and keep you alive against all odds. She felt utterly powerless in the face of your illness, unable to offer anything more than her presence and her love. In that moment of vulnerability, Shoko grappled with her own sense of worthlessness, consumed by the overwhelming weight of her inadequacy.

“Don’t.” You whispered back to her, your lips were dry and cracking. You couldn’t even stomach water lately. Rubbing your thin thumb across her hand, you gazed at them for a moment. It made her look down too. The way fingers  touched was mesmerizing, it was a wonder to behold. A wonder that there was enough love that blossomed such as a wondrous garden called devotion. A small smile appeared on your lips again. “I don’t want you to think about apologies.”

“Even if I mean it?”

You nodded. There was now sadness in your eyes even when you smiled. “Especially if you mean it.”

When you said that, Shoko was brought back to that moment. It was a day etched in her memory, when the weight of your diagnosis hung heavy in the air like an ominous cloud. The news that you were cursed for the rest of your life felt like a devastating blow, a cruel twist of fate that shook her to the core. She remembered the resilience in your face, the determination in your eyes, and the steely resolve in your voice as you faced the doctors. Despite the gravity of the situation, you remained composed, a pillar of strength amidst the chaos.

But for Shoko, it was a day of overwhelming sorrow. She vividly recalled breaking down, her tears flowing freely as she struggled to comprehend the magnitude of your illness. Standing outside your dorm, she felt a wave of guilt wash over her, knowing that she had let you down when you needed her the most. You were the one facing this unimaginable challenge, yet you remained steadfast in the face of adversity.

As Shoko reflected on that day, she couldn't shake the feeling of remorse that weighed heavily on her heart. She knew she had failed you, not just then, but on countless occasions before. And now, as everything seemed to be falling apart, she couldn't help but blame herself for not being stronger, for not being there for you when you needed her most. With a heavy heart, she bit her lower lip, feeling the weight of her guilt like a torrential downpour, washing over her with relentless force.

“Let’s just enjoy this time,” You said to her, your tone laced with hopefulness. This was not something Shoko could even bring herself to understand. “To…have some more time together.” 

It was breaking her heart into pieces, pieces that could never be whole again. Your hands traced Shoko’s again, as though writing the comforting unspoken. The comfort that Shoko was longing for. The comfort you too were longing for. 

“What we have left.” You took Shoko’s hands and placed a warm kiss upon her finger, the ring finger. You grinned. “Let’s spend it with all the love we have.”

When Shoko finally looked at you, that’s when she sprang the pains that came like the hard pouring rain. Your smile never left your face as your own rain poured out of you, consoling her as her head fell onto your hand and staining your own body with the tears that poured out of love. Out of the love that Shoko chose to bear even in its painful, mortal conclusion.

No words were said, there was never any need to. No words had ever been needed to express your grief. The grief that comes with the parting that should come sooner than we had hoped and dreamed.

To be loved is to be changed.

To be loved is also to live.

That’s what you gave Shoko.

And that’s what you also chose.

12:00 a.m, February 14th, 2018.

That’s when your heart stopped.

Shoko knew the time very well.

Because she heard it stop beating.

SHOKO DREAMT THAT SHE OF YOU DAYS AFTER. As Shoko drifted into slumber, she found solace in the warmth of your embrace, a fleeting respite from the relentless tide of grief that threatened to consume her. In her dreams, she found herself transported to a sunlit beach, the salty breeze caressing her skin as she laughed and played with you amidst the crashing waves. 

You both found contentment in the simple joy of building sandcastles, your laughter mingling with the rhythm of the sea. For a fleeting moment, you dived beneath the surface, calling out to her with excitement as you pointed out colorful fish darting through the azure waters. In that moment, Shoko's heart swelled with happiness, knowing that you were healthy and carefree, just as you should be.

But even in her dreams, Shoko couldn't shake the feeling of bittersweet longing that tugged at her heartstrings. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the dream faded into darkness, she was left with the cruel reality that such moments of bliss belonged to a world beyond reach, a world where you were still by her side, laughing and playing in the gentle embrace of the sea. 

When Shoko woke up, there was nothing she could feel. The ringing of silence, that heartbeat to feel the world light up to —dying out from existence, it made her sick to her stomach. There was no more breath that gave the reason for the wind to embrace the flower fields.

There were no words that poured out either, nothing that could even form the words of love into the poems that would validate love’s realization in this world. She lost you. So suddenly, so quietly — pulling away in your sleep with the same smile that forced itself to console her in the happiest way even if your tears mourned what could have been. That’s how you wanted to go and she somehow couldn’t think of any other way. 

Satoru would be a mess without you. That she knew for a fact. Shoko could hear him when he thought he was alone, his quiet sobs echoing through the empty halls. She could feel the weight of his grief, the heaviness of his breaths that couldn’t seem to escape the confines of his chest.

It was a bitter panic, a raw vulnerability that left him as human as he knew he couldn't be. The honored one cannot be the honored one, even if he is. Because he yearns, he mourns, he loves, too much like a human. Shoko had always known that too well.

As Satoru stood over your memorial, a picture of you ever so young, smiling back at him, dressed in his mourning clothes, Shoko could see the cracks beginning to form. You were his soul, as he was yours. His little sister. And now you are gone. There was nothing he could do about it, and that realization threatened to shatter the facade of strength he had been trying so hard to maintain.

Only Satoru and Shoko truly knew you. Despite Fushiguro Megumi considering you something of a family, and even though the second years had become fond of you, none of them loved you as deeply as the two of them did. As Shoko watched the others of all those stuck up clans, so prim and proper, bowing in front of your memorial, she couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment. None of these people truly knew you. None of them understood the depth of your character, the intricacies of your soul.

They whispered behind your back, their words dripping with judgment and ignorance. They whispered about how you were not worth mourning, how they didn't know you well enough to give you a longer bow. Shoko wished she could put her foot down and give them a piece of her mind, to defend your honor and memory. But she refrained. Because she wasn't here for them. You would not have liked that. Shoko knew what she was here for, and she was here for you, and only you.

What gave Shoko some comfort was the thought that you were now with Haibara and Geto. Perhaps that was the only solace she could find in the midst of her grief. Those two, they would take care of you until the end, just as they always promised. That's what they both believed, deep in their hearts.

You often spoke about how much you missed them. You missed the sound of Geto's voice as he read aloud to you, the comforting rhythm of his words filling the room. You missed the sweetness of Haibara's gestures, how he would buy you sweets from the vending machines just to see you smile. You missed them both dearly.

And now, you were all together, reunited in a way that transcended the boundaries of life and death, waiting patiently for Satoru and Shoko to join you. Waiting until the day you could be together again, in each other's arms, where you truly belonged.

Shoko was silent for the majority of the days that passed in the memorial. She couldn’t sleep. Not even when Yaga-sensei urged her to rest. She fears that if she sees you more in her dreams, the faster she would yearn to join you. The quicker she would leave Satoru alone. And you don’t want that for your brother. Not you.

Shoko thinks it's the least she can do. To make sure the two of them would not be too lonely while they wait for their turn. Shoko spent hours and hours just sitting there with a cigarette wondering what would now become of her. Grief was eating away at her, that was all she was sure about. 

But she was even more certain that she needed to understand what living is going to be like moving forward. There was no life in her life before you. There was nothing else to feel the vibrant breath of summer days before you smiled at her.

The wonder of winter time’s cold joy couldn’t be felt until she and you huddled together in the cold winter nights in her dorm room. The lunch days you spend together under the cherry blossoms in spring. Watching the leaves fall together by those wide windows by her apartment. These were things you did together. 

Closing her eyes, she wondered if she could continue doing it again. In another life, will you let her enjoy being able to hold your hand again? Shoko wondered if there would be a space in life where the sun would shine again, with you in it. If the leaves touch the ground the same way as you liked once again. 

A huff of that misty cold smoke,  She let it engulf her like some protective shield. A barrier between those who pretended to wept on the funeral hall benches and those who would come to view your coffin. She didn’t want them to see such a vulnerable set of eyes. She thinks she wanted them to mourn without having to come to her, having to tell her all these stories or condolences. Ieiri Shoko thinks she doesn't need those.

They needed to mourn in their own way. She had said what she needed to say to you. You already had your stories, your conversations. You had already bid goodbye in the night, spent all that time to console the loss that was going to be — to let the other understand that the fear of the dark unknown was going to be alright. That was all Shoko really needed. She knew that was what you needed too, as you went. Your hands together. That’s all she truly wanted.

Still, she thinks even if she had avoided going to sleep – she would choose to be haunted by you if she did. If she were to close her eyes briefly every night after this, she wishes you would visit her. Even if it was a nightmare, even a glimpse of you — Shoko kept hoping to wake up in that bed of yours, looking into your eyes and smiling at each other. She kept hoping that you would come. In her heart, she knew that you were already at peace. 

But she thinks she was greedy, she would like to think that was the case with you. She could never get enough of you. And so, she prayed that she could be greedy for more time. For more chances. To do it all over again, to love all over again. But it wasn’t meant to be long in this present. There can only be so much, be given enough and still think that it wasn’t enough in the end. Even when it was the happiest.

The lit cigarette was almost at the end of the bud, Shoko sighed and rubbed it against the cigarette against the porcelain ashtray. She sighed tiredly and looked towards the memorial, where your coffin–where your ash lay, was still. Shoko was pretty sure she would sob when we put you at full rest.

She probably will not have the courage to love as much as she did with you ever again. You were it for her. You were her choice. And she was yours. In the end, love was a beautiful choice. A heartbreaking choice. A damned choice. She chose the moment to say hello to you and you chose to say goodbye to her too. But it was all that there is. 

This was that love story.

She would continue over and over.

Let you break her heart again and again.

Shoko would choose that again.

And she knew you would too.

She kept looking at your photo.

She whispered. "I love you."

[mononijikayu]

only fools — fushiguro toji

In that fleeting moment of intimacy, time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into insignificance as you lost yourself in the warmth of each other's embrace. It was a kiss filled with promise, a silent vow of love and devotion that echoed in the depths of your souls. Over and over again, you smiled against his lips and he smiled back. It was contentment, it was everything.

GENRE: Pre-Hidden Inventory Arc, 1990s - 2000s;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Friendship, Romance, Star-Crossed Lovers, Emotional Hurt, Mentions of Character Death, Mention of Grief, Mention of Mourning, Mention of Alcholism, Mention of Death, Depiction of Physical Touch, , Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

kayu's playlist, side 400;

listen: only fools (cover) by bts rm and jungkook

note: this one has a bit of connection to us and them, as my ocs were heavily featured in this!!! i went back and forth with how to write this. but this is what i came out with. its lent and the holy time for many christians and muslims, so i thought writing about something this long. i wanted to cut it even more but well, i thought whatever i wrote is more genuine. if i cut it, i feel like it would lose the genuinity. so here it is!!! enjoy it, i hope you have a good holiday, i hope you all rest up and hydrate!!! i love you all!!! <3

YOU WERE BOTH SO YOUNG WHEN ZENIN TOJI MET FIRST MET YOU. In the expansive grounds surrounding the Zenin manor, amidst the towering trees that seemed to stretch towards the heavens, your presence stood out like a delicate bloom in a field of thorns. Zenin Toji couldn't help but notice you, a small figure nestled among the dense foliage, almost like a forgotten relic of a bygone era. You were like the little geisha dolls Genmei carries around with her, long black hair falling over your knees, dressed prim and proper like a proud and noble lady. Toji was used to seeing girls like you around Zenin manor. But rarely did he ever see one in such a state like you. 

If uncle Naobito’s wife saw you, she would have smacked your head up and down. But she was not and Toji was never going to tell. Not that he needed to. You were no Zenin. You were someone else. It was intriguing to watch you, how tightly you rested your head against the bark of the tree. How deeply your kimono is tightly pressed against your body. You were cocooned in your own touch, as though protecting yourself from the world beyond. Despite the grandeur that existed about your presence, you appeared diminutive and unassuming, as if time itself had overlooked your presence.

Your posture, huddled against the chill of the earth, spoke volumes of your resilience and quiet strength. Even as your elegant sleeves trailed along the ground, gathering flecks of dirt and grime, you seemed unconcerned with the state of your attire, your focus directed inward rather than on superficial appearances. It was a stark contrast to the lavish gatherings and opulent displays that often characterized life within the Zenin estate. The last place for such a fine little noble lady should be this edge of the Zenin estate. Not even servants dwelled here.

Toji couldn't help but be drawn to you, the embodiment of serenity amidst the chaos of their world. As he approached, a sense of familiarity washed over him, as if he had stumbled upon a kindred spirit in the midst of the vast wilderness. This shared affinity forged a connection between them, bridging the gap between two souls seeking refuge from the pressures and expectations of their surroundings.

In the tranquility of that secluded spot, Toji couldn't help but sense a shared need for sanctuary, a desire to escape the relentless demands of their respective worlds. He understood, perhaps more than most, the weight of expectation and duty that rested upon your shoulders. It was a burden he bore himself, one that had been ingrained in him since they had concluded that he was useless to them. Despite being the son of the previous clan head, Toji was relegated to be as lowly as servants. The name Zenin did not mean anything, if he didn’t have powers. The good will of others was what let him remain untouched. Well, untouched enough not to be beaten.

Toji's mind drifted to his cousin Naoki, a constant presence in his life and a rare source of solace amidst the turmoil of their upbringing. Naoki had always been there for him, offering companionship and camaraderie when the weight of their responsibilities threatened to crush them both.If anything, cousin Naoki was the only one that ever truly felt genuine to him in this house. Together, they sought refuge in the simple pleasures of childhood, finding respite from the rigid expectations of their noble lineage. As he had gotten older, he was more a brother to him than Jinichi ever was. Toji supposes he likes it that way. He felt a little bummed out that he was forced to meddle about with those high rise pricks from the other clans. But that’s his duty, as uncle Naobito’s eldest son, after all. 

As he observed you from his vantage point, towering over you with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, The young Zenin man couldn't help but wonder about the young beauty before him. He wonders about what’s there behind the serene facade of your silk fabrics. He had many questions for you. How had you stumbled upon this hidden sanctuary? What trials and tribulations had led you to seek solace among the trees of the Zenin estate? Most of all, where were your shoes?

Yet, despite his curiosity, Toji remained silent, content to observe you from afar, his gaze silent. As though he was trying to figure out the puzzle in his head before he even dared approach you. He had to be careful. None would perhaps mind if it was another Zenin he was meddling with. But it’s quite obvious that you were not Zenin. You were in fact another clan child. And if he doesn't thread carefully, then the clans may end up with animosity. He did not want any trouble, that was pointless. And even then, that would be another headache for Naoki. He couldn’t give more trouble to solve. In that moment, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the soft whispers of the wind, you were a mystery waiting to be unraveled, a puzzle whose pieces he yearned to uncover.

The three big clans always came together in these little clique circles, echoed in the small bubble that existed between each and everyone of them. In truth, no one wanted to be here. None of the big three ever liked each other. Yet it was more pretense than anything else. Whoever plays the best, becomes the face of their world. No one has ever liked the bullshit of it all. Not his cousin Naoki, not his daughter, not even Toji himself wanted to be here. And so he escapes as often as he can. He goes to the farthest echoes of the manor, on this tree and lays here, wallowing in the world he builds underneath the shades of the tree.

Seeking solace from the stifling atmosphere, Toji made his escape, slipping away from the confines of the courtyard into the relative sanctuary of the surrounding trees. It was there that he encountered you, the sight of your expensive attire contrasting sharply with the disheveled state of your posture. Your kimono, adorned with the finest silks and threads, hung loosely on your frame, creased and crumpled from your slouched position against the massive tree trunks.

Toji couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance at the sight. What a waste, he thought, observing the careless disregard with which you treated such exquisite garments. With a resigned sigh, he crossed his arms over his chest, knowing that he couldn't ignore your presence any longer. As much as he longed to bask in the warmth of the sun and enjoy his peaceful afternoon uninterrupted, he understood that he had to address the situation at hand.

As Toji prepared to address you, his words poised on the tip of his tongue, he was taken aback when you suddenly lifted your head, tears streaming down your face. The sight of your tear-streaked cheeks and brimming eyes hit him like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless. Your eyes, wide and doe-like, held a depth of grief that struck a chord within him, stirring a pang of empathy in his heart.

In that moment, all of Toji's intentions to reprimand you dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of compassion. He found himself unable to speak, his lips pursed as he took a hesitant step back, overwhelmed by the raw emotion emanating from you.

As you continued to cry, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at your display of vulnerability in front of a stranger, Zenin Toji felt a surge of discomfort mingled with empathy. He watched as you wiped your tears away with your silk sleeves, your sobs muffled against the fabric, your words lost amidst the tumult of emotions.

Toji's voice broke through the heavy silence, surprisingly gentle as he approached you cautiously. It shocked him too. Not even to little Genmei. So, he supposes he wasn’t accustomed to sounding so gentle, but maybe his body was being courteous for once. "Hey," he began, concern evident in his tone. "Are you alright?"

You sniffled, glancing up at him with tear-stained eyes, your expression a mixture of embarrassment and anguish. "I... I'm sorry," you managed to choke out between sobs, your voice trembling with emotion.

Toji's lips tightened in a line, his initial irritation melting away in the face of your distress. "No need to apologize," he reassured, his voice softening as he crouched down beside you. "I just didn’t expect to find anyone here, that's all. What's wrong? Did you get lost?”

You could only shake your head at him, unable to form coherent words as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you once more. That was not the answer Toji wanted or needed. It seemed like a lie that you did not get lost. But he doesn’t speak just yet. Letting you cry as you do.Pushing would just give him more of a headache. Instead, you buried your face in your hands, your shoulders trembling with the weight of your grief. Toji was at a loss. He’d never had anyone cry to him like this. Not even Genmei. She cries and then hits him profusely, like the little brat she was. He’d never had anyone be this emotional. Not even his mother was this emotional.

Toji hesitated for a moment before tentatively placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's alright," he murmured, offering what little solace he could muster in the midst of your tears. He wasn’t accustomed to comforting anyone. If anything, what little he knew of it came from cousin Naoki. But Zenin Toji felt rather uncomfortable with this explosion of empathy. He wasn’t used to it at all.

He waited patiently, allowing you the space to compose yourself, the sounds of your quiet sobs filling the air around you. The wind blew against your pristine long hair, the edges dancing against its blow. After a moment, you lifted your tiny head, wiping away the last of your tears with a shaky breath. Toji couldn’t help but think it was a pity you were crying. You were really pretty. Not like some of his Zenin cousins. They’re rough, too rough and edged bluntly. Genmei was more like a Mikoto in her beauty, she did not count. You felt like a small beautiful flower, one that needed sheltering. You were out of place here.

"I'm sorry for intruding," you whispered, your voice still raw with emotion, lips trembling. “I’m sorry for causing your annoyance too.”

The raven-haired young man sighed, rubbing the back of his head. You’ve apologized enough for his liking. "It's alright. You're not intruding. If I were here in the Zenin manor too, I would weep tears too.”

You paused, uncertain whether to trust this stranger who stumbled upon your moment of vulnerability. It was wise to be cautious; after all, you knew nothing about this young man. He appeared rough around the edges, far from the picture of gentleness. Yet, despite his outward appearance, there was something in the calmness of his voice and the sincerity of his gaze that put you at ease. He seemed to understand, at least to some extent, the turmoil you were experiencing.

"What's wrong?" Toji's gentle voice pierced the heavy silence once more, his concern evident in his tone. "It's okay if you don't want to share everything."

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to speak. "My mother... she hit me," you admitted, your voice trembling under the weight of your confession. Toji regarded you with newfound insight, recognizing the resemblance to Lord Kamo's brother. You must be Kaiko's cousin, the one often seen alongside Genmei. You were one of those Kamo girls he occasionally encountered.

"Just because I sat improperly at the table," you continued, your words laced with sadness and frustration. "She called me a stupid girl and said I'm not at all a proper lady."

The emerald-eyed man's expression darkened at your words, a mixture of sympathy and anger flashing in his eyes. It saddened him deeply to see someone belonging to a prestigious clan endure such treatment. He knew all too well the coldness and cruelty that could lurk within those esteemed families. Having lived through it himself, he harbored a profound hatred for the lack of warmth and empathy that often pervaded such environments. 

And as he looked into your eyes, gleaming with bitterness and sadness, he sensed that you shared his disdain for the oppressive traditions of your lineage. You were all just pawns, little toys to the powerful. If the powerful were the oppressive gods, both of you, many of you, were just the mindless little monkeys that they could play around with. And he hated it. He hated it ever so much.

"It's not your fault," Toji asserted firmly, his voice carrying both reassurance and conviction. "You don't deserve to be treated like that. You're not a stupid girl. And you are a proper lady, no matter what anyone says."

You huffed in response, frustration evident in your tone. "You don’t even know me," you retorted.

Toji chuckled softly, his amusement tinged with a hint of bitterness. "No need to know you to recognize the truth. We're both nothing but pawns to our clans. I understand how you feel."

Your eyebrows furrowed at his words, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering in your eyes. "You do?"

Toji nodded solemnly, his gaze distant as if lost in memories of his own struggles. "Yeah, I do," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "I've seen enough to know how it goes. The expectations, the pressures... It's suffocating."

As you looked at Toji, a wave of gratitude washed over you, accompanied by a newfound sense of respect for the young man kneeling beside you. Despite the initial wariness you felt towards him, his kindness and understanding had softened your heart. In a world where every interaction seemed transactional, where people often looked out only for themselves and their own interests, encountering someone like Toji was a rare and unexpected blessing.

His rough exterior belied a depth of character that took you by surprise. Beneath the stoic facade lay a compassionate soul, willing to lend a sympathetic ear and offer comfort without judgment. It was a revelation, a reminder that humanity still existed amidst the harsh realities of their world.

For the first time in a long while, you didn't feel quite so alone in your struggles. The simple act of sharing your burdens with Toji, of knowing that someone else understood your pain, lifted a weight off your shoulders. It was a fleeting moment of connection, but in that moment, it felt like you had found a kindred spirit, a companion in the darkness who offered a glimmer of light and hope.

"I'm sorry," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to burden you with my problems."

Toji shifted his sleeves to the side. "Don't worry about it," he said plainly. “It’s nothing.”

As you sniffled softly, a sense of vulnerability washed over you, prompting you to confess your earlier deception to Toji. The admission hung heavy in the air, accompanied by a blush of embarrassment that colored your cheeks. 

Toji's response, a hearty laugh that echoed through the tranquil surroundings, caught you off guard. His laughter was infectious, and despite your initial indignation, you couldn't help but find yourself chuckling along with him. It was a moment of unexpected levity amidst the weight of your shared troubles, a brief respite from the seriousness of your conversation.

However, as your laughter subsided and you attempted to regain your composure, Toji's teasing remark caused your blush to deepen once more. His playful jab at your earlier statement about being a lady caught you off guard, and you shot him a playful yet reproachful glare.

"That's not funny," you protested, your tone laced with propriety’s indignation. "Laughing at a lady—"

“I thought you weren’t a lady.”

Toji's mischievous grin widened as he observed your playful indignation, finding amusement in your reaction. He recognized your beauty, undeniable even in the midst of your embarrassment, but there was something more to you that intrigued him. Unlike many of the beauties he had encountered within the prestigious clans, who often seemed devoid of personality or charm, you possessed a spark of vitality and spirit that set you apart.

In that moment, as you exchanged banter beneath the shade of the tree where you had first met, Zenin Toji couldn't help but feel a sense of appreciation for your authenticity. There was a depth to you that went beyond mere appearances, a complexity that intrigued him and drew him in. And as he teases you playfully, he finds himself enjoying the lively exchange. It’s more anyone of those clan ladies can offer him, he thinks.

“But I am a lady!” You insist on him, standing up to face him and stomping your feet. You looked so small to his bigger figure, you looked exactly like a doll. “You ought not to laugh!”

As Toji's laughter subsided, he met your indignant gaze with a calm yet playful demeanor, his emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. Despite your insistence on your ladylike status, he couldn't help but find your defiance endearing, a testament to your spirited nature.

"Toji," he corrected you gently, his tone soft but firm. You blinked in surprise, absorbing the simplicity of his request. "My name is Zenin Toji."

You paused, momentarily taken aback by the informality of his address. It was unusual for someone of his status to discard the formalities associated with his surname. Nevertheless, you nodded in acknowledgment, offering a shy introduction of your own as a member of the Kamo clan.

"N-nice to meet you, Lord Toji—" you began, only to be interrupted by his gentle interjection.

"Just Toji," he reiterated, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His demeanor was relaxed, devoid of the pretentiousness often associated with those of noble lineage. "The Zenin part doesn't matter."

You felt a warmth spread through you at Toji's casual demeanor, a stark contrast to the rigid formality you were accustomed to within the confines of your own clan. His easy nonchalant nature had put you at ease, allowing you to shed some of the layers of formality that typically accompanied interactions with individuals of higher status. It didn’t feel stifling to stand beside him, to exist beside him like this. Zenin or Kamo, it didn’t matter. 

"Alright, Toji," you replied with a shy smile, the sound of his name rolling off your tongue feeling strangely liberating. "It's nice to meet you too."

Toji nodded in response, a snicker appearing on his lips. “Nice to meet you too, little doll.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, its golden hues painting the world in a soft, ethereal light, you were drawn to the serene connection that had blossomed between you and Toji. It was a sanctuary amidst the chaos of your clans' expectations, a tranquil haven where the weight of tradition melted away.

Beneath the comforting shade of the ancient tree where your paths first crossed, you and Toji nurtured a bond that defied the confines of lineage. Here, amidst the whispers of nature, you found solace from the rigidity of societal norms, basking in the freedom to simply exist as yourselves.

You looked at him, as he watched the sun sleep.

For the first time in your life, you had a friend.

And so you smiled, finally ever so genuinely.

YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO SEE HIM AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. As time flowed onward, your excursions to the Zenin Manor alongside your cousin Kaiko grew more frequent, granting you ample chances to cross paths with Toji in his customary haven beneath the ancient trees. Though these visits were not formal arrangements, they became a welcomed routine, a quiet understanding between you and your cousin, Kaiko. 

When you expressed your desire to reconnect with the friend you had made at the last clan gathering, she embraced the idea with enthusiasm. Without hesitation, she incorporated you into her entourage. None can stop her. There was no other heir to the Kamo. No son can rival her strength and so she was free to do as she wished. In that power, she grants you the freedom to pursue your own interests while she pursues her own amusements, often joining the Zenin heir's child in their playful antics. For that, you were delighted.

As time progressed, your interactions with Toji blossomed from mere pleasantries into meaningful exchanges. You often found him diligently serving the Zenin heir, Lord Naoki, as his trusted aide. Lord Naoki was a figure constantly in motion, overseeing every aspect of the manor's affairs. Once his duties in the field were fulfilled, he would immerse himself in the endless paperwork, particularly those tasks neglected by his father, Lord Naobito. Toji revealed to you that the elder Zenin had little interest in anything beyond his indulgences, leaving the responsibilities to accumulate unchecked until Lord Naoki intervened, assuming his father's duties and restoring order to the estate. 

Before his current role, Toji had been relegated to menial tasks among the ranks of the servants, a position considered beneath his station as the son of a former clan leader. It was a stark reminder of the disdain harbored by Lord Naobito's cronies, who deemed Toji unworthy of the Zenin name due to his lack of cursed techniques. Despite his lineage, they saw him as a stain upon the clan's reputation, dubbing him a ‘useless monkey’ in their disparaging remarks. Meanwhile, Lord Naoki was absent from the Zenin manor, accompanying his wife on a journey to Hida to pay respects to her family's lineage.

Upon Lord Naoki's return, his fury knew no bounds. Toji recounted the scene with a mix of awe and trepidation, describing how his cousin's usually composed demeanor had been replaced by a seething rage unlike anything he had ever witnessed before. In a violent display of retribution, Lord Naoki exacted vengeance upon all those who had belittled Toji, leaving them bloodied and broken in his wake. He even dared to confront his own father, defying the authority of the patriarch in defense of his cousin.

Witnessing this ferocious loyalty, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude that Toji wasn't alone in his struggles. He had someone in his corner, just as you did with Kaiko. In a world where alliances were crucial and loneliness loomed like a specter, the bond you shared with Toji deepened as you both found solace in each other's company, united by the shared experience of feeling marginalized and underestimated by those around you.

As time passed, your visits to the Zenin Manor became more than just occasional encounters. They evolved into cherished moments of respite from the rigors of clan life, offering you an escape into a world of serene tranquility alongside Toji. The towering trees of the manor's grounds became your sanctuary, a haven where you could seek refuge from the chaos of your respective families.

In these quiet moments, you found solace in the gentle presence of Toji, his silent companionship offering a soothing balm to the wounds inflicted by the harsh realities of clan politics. Together, you would while away the hours beneath the shade of the familiar tree, lost in the pages of a book as you read aloud to him. Toji, reclined against the sturdy trunk, would listen intently, his emerald eyes tracing the dance of sunlight filtering through the leaves above.

For Toji, the spoken words held a melody that transcended mere literature. He was never that interested in literature. Not even when his cousin Naoki would insist on him reading the classics—that Toji admits without shame. Yet when he encouraged her to continue reading, he had that tender look in his eyes. Ones that she could never read. They were a symphony of solace for the soul. Words that weave a tapestry of comfort and understanding that enveloped him in a cocoon of peace, at least that's what you hope. He rarely spoke, content to let the beauty of the natural world and the soft cadence of your voice wash over him like a gentle tide.

In the tranquil embrace of Toji's company, you discovered a newfound appreciation for the beauty of silence. In contrast to the rigid expectations of the Kamo clan, where silence was enforced as a virtue and communication often felt stifled, the quiet moments shared with Toji felt liberating. There was no pressure to fill the air with meaningless chatter or conform to the expectations of societal norms. Instead, you found freedom in the gentle cadence of shared silence, where words were unnecessary and understanding transcended verbal communication.

With Toji by your side, the silence became a sanctuary—a space where you could simply be yourself without fear of judgment or scrutiny. It was a welcome reprieve from the cacophony of expectations that surrounded you in the world of the clans, offering a sense of peace and tranquility that was both rare and precious.

As you reveled in the simple pleasure of each other's company, you found solace in the serenity of the natural world around you. The rustle of leaves in the breeze, the gentle hum of insects, and the distant song of birds formed a symphony of tranquility that enveloped you both in its embrace. In those moments, the unspoken understanding that bound you together felt palpable, weaving a tapestry of connection that defied words.

Indeed, there was a time when silence unnerved you, when the enforced quietude of the Kamo clan felt suffocating. But with Toji, silence became not a source of fear, but rather a source of comfort and warmth. It was a silent language shared between kindred spirits, a language that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. And in the presence of Toji, perhaps there was never a need for words to describe the depth of your connection—it was simply understood, felt deeply in the quiet spaces between conversations.

In the quiet moments spent together beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient tree, you discovered subtle ways to bridge the gap between you and Toji. Whether it was through shared moments of silence or simple acts of kindness, you sought to connect with him on a deeper level.

One day, as you noticed the frayed edges and worn fabric of his shirts, a determination stirred within you to mend them. Toji initially protested, insisting there was no need for such fuss. But you persisted, your fingers deftly weaving delicate stitches to mend the fabric with care. Despite his reluctance, Toji eventually relented, allowing you to tend to his clothing with quiet determination.

As the days passed and your visits to the Zenin Manor became more frequent, you couldn't help but notice the state of Toji's shirts. The fabric was worn and frayed, with small tears marring the once pristine garments. Each time you saw him, your heart ached at the sight of his tattered clothing, a stark contrast to the polished appearance expected of those belonging to prestigious clans.

Unable to ignore it any longer, you approached Toji one afternoon as he sat beneath the familiar tree, his shirts displaying signs of wear and tear. "Toji," you began, your voice soft but determined. "Your shirts... they're torn. Let me mend them for you."

Toji glanced down at his shirts, his expression unreadable. "It's fine," he replied dismissively, waving a hand as if to brush off your concern. "I can manage."

But you refused to be deterred, your determination unwavering. "Please, Toji," you insisted, reaching out to gently touch the torn fabric. "Let me help. It's the least I can do."

There was a brief moment of hesitation before Toji finally relented, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. "If you insist," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He knew you would not budge on it. He’d rather take his losses—and his wins.

With a soft smile, you started to question him about all the things that were broken in each article of clothing he owned. You kept asking him one after the other. He was stingy for money, you didn’t ask why. But being a favorite of his cousin, he would have been handsomely paid. You wonder why he hoards old clothing and wears them consistently. But that didn’t matter. Perhaps those lessons with your nanny finally worked out for you. 

For a while, the only sound that filled the air was the quiet rustle of leaves overhead and the soft hum of your needle weaving through the fabric. You both were sat by the tree again — the tree you had both become ever so fond for. It was a peaceful moment, one that allowed both of you to simply exist in each other's presence without the need for words. Having a day out was nice, with the weather being calm and the wind being cool. You had him carry all the things that needed repairing in a basket and marched on to your tree. 

As you worked, you stole glances at Toji, studying the lines of his face and the way his brows furrowed in concentration. There was a vulnerability in his demeanor, a rare glimpse beneath the stoic facade he often presented to the world. You think he was intrigued, seeing someone do something for him, without any expectation nor without any exchange. But you think, a Zenin might think that. It was hard to find anyone with genuine intentions here.

Eventually, you finished mending the last of Toji's shirts, the fabric now restored to its former state. With a sense of satisfaction, you held up the garments for him to see, a small smile playing on your lips. You looked so proud, somehow as though this was your best achievement in life. There were stars practically beaming in your eyes. 

"There," you said softly, a hint of pride in your voice. "All done."

Toji's gaze softened as he examined the repaired shirts, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly, his voice laced with genuine gratitude. "I appreciate it."

You nodded, a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. In that moment, beneath the canopy of leaves, you felt a connection deepen between you, bound not just by the threads of fabric you had sewn together, but by the silent understanding and companionship you shared. By the time you had finished this other shirt, you were due to return home with the rest of the Kamo retinue. You promised to come back and finish them as the days passed. 

That you did. With a small smile, the days continued and you would not say a word. You would gather the necessary supplies and set to work at any new little article of cloth that needed mending. Toji would watch as your nimble fingers carefully stitched one of the torn fabric back together. He would tell you to be mindful not to hurt yourself, to be slow and think about your hands. Each reminder is softer than the next, mellower than before. You could not help but feel your cheeks warm at each reminder. He was such a huge man, one that frightened even those who looked down upon him. Yet he was so gentle, so wonderful. 

As you worked, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you were able to offer Toji a small gesture of kindness in return for the quiet companionship he had provided you. You worked hard because you think he deserved to have someone care for him. You stole glances at Toji's stoic expression, noting the subtle shift in his demeanor as he watched you mend his shirts. Though he remained ever so silent, stoic as a statue, you sensed a silent appreciation in his gaze—a recognition of the care and effort you poured into each stitch.

When you presented him with the final fixings, Toji accepted them with a nod of gratitude each and every time, his expression softening ever so slightly. From that day forward, he wore the shirts you had mended with unwavering dedication, despite their outdated appearance or the judgmental gazes of others. 

Toji understood the significance of your efforts, recognizing the depth of your kindness and devotion in each carefully stitched seam. And in his silent acceptance, you found a connection that transcended words—a silent understanding that bound you together in quiet companionship. And that perhaps is all that mattered to you.

In the tranquil embrace of the natural world, enveloped by the gentle symphony of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, you and Toji discovered a sanctuary away from the tumultuous demands of your respective clans. Beneath the canopy of green above, time seemed to stand still, allowing you to savor each precious moment spent in Toji's company.

With each passing day, your bond with Toji deepened, weaving together threads of understanding and mutual respect into the fabric of your relationship. In his presence, the burdens of duty and expectation that once weighed heavily upon your shoulders dissolved, leaving behind a sense of liberation and lightness.

Every shared glance, every soft smile exchanged between you carried with it a silent promise of companionship and support, a reminder that you were not alone in navigating the complexities of your world. You found solace in the simple joy of being together, of basking in the warmth of his presence and the quiet strength that emanated from him.

As you lay side by side beneath the verdant canopy, watching the shifting patterns of light dance across his features, you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the moment. With Toji by your side, the world felt like a place worth living in, filled with endless possibilities and untold adventures waiting to be discovered.

And as you gazed upon him, his eyes closed in serene contentment, you felt a swell of affection and admiration in your heart. In that fleeting moment, you knew that there was nowhere else you'd rather be than here, with Toji, sharing in the quiet splendor of nature's embrace.

The serene melody of birdsong filled the air, a symphony of nature's chorus that seemed to resonate deep within your soul. Nestled side by side beneath the expansive canopy of the ancient tree, you and Toji found yourselves enveloped in a tranquil oasis, far removed from the bustle and chaos of the world beyond.

The soft blades of grass beneath your backs provided a gentle cushion against the earth, inviting you to surrender to the soothing embrace of nature's embrace. Above, the vast expanse of the sky stretched out like an endless tapestry, its azure hues mingling with the ethereal wisps of cotton-white clouds that drifted lazily across the heavens.

In this idyllic sanctuary, time seemed to stand still, allowing you and Toji to bask in the timeless beauty of the natural world around you. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant murmur of a nearby stream, and the distant calls of unseen creatures all combined to create a sense of serenity that washed over you like a gentle tide.

As you lay together beneath the sprawling branches of the ancient tree, the worries and cares of the world melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and contentment. Here, amidst the harmonious symphony of nature, you found solace in each other's company, sharing in the quiet beauty of the world around you.

Lost in the tranquility of the moment, you turned to Toji, a curious glint in your eyes. "Toji, what's your dream?" you asked softly, breaking the peaceful silence that surrounded you.

Toji's brow furrowed slightly at your question, his gaze fixed on the expanse of sky above. "Why do you ask?" he inquired, his voice quiet but thoughtful.

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Just curious, I suppose," you replied. "Everyone has dreams, don't they?"

After a moment of contemplation, The green eyed young man turned his gaze back to you, his expression thoughtful. Slowly, he raised a hand to gesture towards the vast expanse above. As though he was trying to reach for the sky, for the birds that fly ever so freely above the wide blue deep. 

"I suppose... I'd like to feel what freedom actually feels like," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of longing. "To live, to breathe, to love without constraints."

With a gaze that conveyed both comprehension and compassion, you regarded Toji, sensing a kindred spirit in his yearning for freedom from the burdens of obligation and societal norms. It was a recognition born from your own experiences, from the weight of expectations placed upon you by your respective clans, and the longing to break free from those constraints.

In Toji's eyes, you saw the echo of your own desires, mirrored in the depths of his gaze. The shared understanding between you transcended mere words, an unspoken bond forged through the silent acknowledgment of each other's struggles and aspirations.

Together, you existed in a realm where the burdens of tradition and duty held no sway, where the pursuit of personal freedom and fulfillment took precedence over the demands of society. It was a sanctuary you had created together, a space where you could share your dreams and aspirations without fear of judgment or reproach.

"And what about you?" Toji asked, his gaze searching for yours. "What's your dream?"

A wide smile spread across your face as you met his gaze. "Funny you should ask," you replied, a playful twinkle in your eye. "Because I think we have the same dream."

Toji's lips quivered upwards in a rare display of warmth, a genuine smile gracing his features. "Is that so?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You nodded, your smile widening. "Yes," you affirmed. "And I hope we can make it together."

A softness settled over the two of you, the weight of unspoken hopes and shared aspirations binding you together in silent understanding. "Me too," Toji murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the promise of freedom beckoned on the gentle breeze.

The way he looked at you, it burned you.

And as you smiled, you know he felt it too.

You wonder if it was safe to say those words.

‘Ah, is this what it is? Is this what love feels like?’

HE STILL THINKS ABOUT YOU OFTEN, MORE THAN HE’D LIKE. In the quiet solitude of his drunken reverie, Toji's mind often drifted back to the memories of you, like delicate petals carried on a gentle breeze. It wasn't just nostalgia that drew him back to those moments; it was the profound impact you had made on his life, an indelible mark etched upon his heart.

He remembered the way you would smile at him, your eyes alight with warmth and affection, as you made your way to that sacred tree—the tree that had become a symbol of your shared bond. In your presence, Toji felt a sense of peace and acceptance that he had never known before, a feeling that he longed to hold onto with every fiber of his being.

Your touch was like a balm to his wounded soul, soft and comforting, as though you could heal the scars of his past with just a simple caress. In your embrace, he found solace from the storms raging within him, a refuge from the harsh realities of the world outside.

And when your lips met his, it was as though time itself stood still, suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss. In those stolen moments of passion, Toji felt a connection so profound, so intense, that it transcended the boundaries of time and space.

But as the years slipped by, like grains of sand through an hourglass, Toji found himself haunted by the memories of what could have been, the dreams that had been shattered by the cruel hand of fate. He mourned the loss of the future he had envisioned with you, the life that had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

Yet even in his darkest moments, amid the haze of alcohol and regret, there remained a glimmer of hope—a hope that one day, he might find a way to reclaim the love that had been lost, to build a future with you that defied the constraints of time and circumstance.

And so, with each passing day, Toji carried the weight of his memories like a burden, a constant reminder of the love that had once burned brightly between you, and the promise of a future that still remained within reach, if only he dared to reach out and grasp it.

But despite his yearning for what once was, Toji found himself trapped in a cycle of self-destructive behavior, drowning his sorrows in alcohol and reckless pursuits. He sought solace in the fleeting distractions of the world, hoping to numb the pain that gnawed at his heart like a relentless beast.

Yet amidst the chaos of his existence, there remained a flicker of the man he once was—a man who had loved deeply and dreamed of a future filled with happiness and purpose. It was this spark of humanity that kept him tethered to the memories of you, reminding him of the love he had lost and the person he had once been.

In his darkest moments, when the weight of his regrets threatened to crush him, Toji would close his eyes and summon forth the image of your smile, the warmth of your touch, and the sound of your laughter echoing like a melody in his mind. It was these memories that kept him going, fueling his determination to someday find his way back to you, no matter the cost.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Toji's hope began to wane, replaced by a bitter resignation to the cruel twists of fate that had torn you apart. He cursed himself for his weakness, for his inability to protect you from the fate that had befallen you, and for the pain he knew you must be enduring without him by your side.

In the quiet depths of his thoughts, Fushiguro Toji often finds himself contemplating the bittersweet truth of your relationship. To him, you were like the sun—bright, radiant, and unattainable. And he? He was but a mere moon, destined to orbit around you, never truly belonging to your world. Yet, despite the inevitable distance that separated you, his love for you burns steadfastly, unwavering in its intensity. 

When he made the decision to depart from the Zenin clan, he understood that it meant leaving behind any chance of ever crossing paths with you again. Still, the memory of you lingers like a haunting melody, weaving its way into the fabric of his existence. Though you may never belong to each other, he carries you in his heart, a cherished remnant of a love that was never meant to be.

Toji's heart shattered into a million pieces when he had to leave you behind. And now you were forced to be engaged to his brother. You cried for help, you did. That’s what everyone said. You called for him and asked someone to look for him. It was a betrayal of the highest order, one that threatened to tear apart everything he had ever hoped for. The thought of you being wed to his older brother, Jinichi, filled him with a rage unlike any he had ever known.

For years, he had harbored dreams of returning to the Zenin clan, of freeing you from the suffocating grasp of your lineage with Naoki's help. Naoki had the ear of all clans. He could make something happen. But now, those dreams lay shattered at his feet, crushed beneath the weight of cruel reality. The mere thought of you being subjected to a marriage of convenience, forced to spend your days with a man who could never appreciate the gentle soul that you were, filled Toji with an overwhelming sense of despair and helplessness.

Driven by a blind fury, he had once entertained thoughts of storming into the Zenin manor, of whisking you away from your fate by force if necessary. You were alone, there was nothing left for you in the Kamo clan. How long can your cousin protect you from what the clans expect of young women like you? He couldn’t take it. He wanted to leave. Storm back there. But Naoki, ever the voice of reason, had intervened, urging Toji to reconsider his reckless actions. He told him to wait, that he had a plan. That it will all work out. 

And so he let himself wait and wait.

Drink after drink, to let his anxiety hurl.

Yet not everything does work out.

No matter how drunk he got at each round;

He would never end up finding you in this life.

Zenin Naoki found his younger cousin Toji in the dimly lit room, his figure slumped over the rough wooden table, an empty bottle of sake clutched tightly in his hand. He could see the anguish etched into Toji's features, the lines of pain and sorrow etched deep into his brow. He was too drunk, Naoki knew. But the moment he would speak those words, he knew that his cousin would be wholeheartedly sober. He didn’t have the heart to say it.  

Naoki’s weary palms sharply echoed into fists. He takes the steps toward his little cousin. Naoki lets one fist unclench and open, grabbing an empty chair for himself and taking to sitting. His lips pursed as he moved closer towards his cousin’s bed. His eyes waver, as though giving away all that he was about to say.

"Toji," Naoki began cautiously, his voice soft but firm. "There's something you need to know."

Toji's bloodshot eyes lifted to meet Naoki's gaze, filled with a mixture of desperation and despair. "What is it?" he asked hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.

Naoki hesitated, knowing that his words would only add to Toji's suffering. "It's about her," he began, his voice heavy with regret. "Your Kamo flower."

Toji's grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles turning white with the force of his emotions. "What about her?" he demanded, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.

Naoki took a deep breath, steeling himself for Toji's reaction. "She's... she's married," he confessed, his words hanging heavy in the air like a death knell.

The color drained from Toji's face, his eyes widening in shock and disbelief. "Married?" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "To who? I thought the engagement would be broken—"

"To your brother, Jinichi," Naoki replied, his heart heavy with guilt. "It was rushed. Father wanted to strengthen the alliance between our clans. The Gojo clan….had gotten strong recently. As soon as I arrived, it was different. They bypassed me. The marriage already took place."

Toji's world shattered in an instant, the pain of betrayal and loss consuming him like a raging inferno. He felt as if the ground had been ripped out from beneath him, leaving him to plummet into an endless abyss of despair.

But deep down, Toji knew the truth of Naoki's words, and it tore him apart like nothing else ever could. He just couldn’t register how no one could let her free. How no one could help her. Genmei, her cousin Kaiko, his cousin Naoki. There were so many people there. How could none of them have been able to do anything?  In that moment, he felt as if he had lost everything—the woman he loved, his dreams of a future together, and the very essence of his being.

"I don't believe you," Toji spat, his voice laced with venom. "She would never agree to such a thing. She loves me, she always has. She would never....."

"Not in her own will." Naoki agreed quietly, leaning back exhaustedly. "But now she has no choice. Once it is done, it is done."

As the reality of his situation sank in, Toji's mind began to unravel, consumed by a maelstrom of rage and despair. He cursed the gods for their cruelty, cursed himself for his weakness, and cursed the world for its injustice. And in that dark, lonely room, Toji wept for the love he had lost, for the dreams that lay shattered at his feet, and for the woman who had stolen his heart and left him to suffer in silence.

‘You can't risk your life like this. Please, Toji,’ Naoki had pleaded, his words echoing with a painful truth that Toji was unwilling to accept. When he cried, when he beat Naoki down, when Naoki didn’t fight back. All he could hear was those words over and over. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Little cousin, I am sorry."

In the end, he saw the wedding photos. That bastard Jinichi had sent them all clans, including the Mikoto — to announce the marriage far and wide. You were miserable beside his brother. Jinichi stood over you, as though he now owned you. As though you were his to tarnish, to harm, to brutalize. Toji’s blood boiled over and over. He screamed over and over. He threw beer bottles over and over. In the end, all Toji had left was his tears, swallowing his own grief over and over. He let himself drown his sorrows in a sea of alcohol and vice. 

He couldn’t stop. The bitterness of his betrayal festered within him, consuming him from the inside out. But not at you. Never at you. At everything, at everyone. Toji was angry, for a long long time. All he could think about was how you suffered all these years. And how he could do nothing. He had absolutely nothing.

Each day was a struggle, each night haunted by visions of you suffering at the hands of a man who could never hope to understand the depths of your gentle spirit. Toji's anger burned like a raging inferno, fueled by the injustice of it all.

But deep down, beneath the layers of resentment and despair, there lingered a flicker of hope—a hope that one day, he might find a way to free you from the shackles of your unwanted marriage, to offer you the tenderness and love that you so rightfully deserved. Until then, he would carry the weight of his failure like a heavy burden, a constant reminder of the cruel twists of fate that had torn you apart.

“You know, I always wanted to have my own family.” You whisper to him out of the blue, the corner of your eyes looking at him. He looks at you with a curious gaze, a grin on his face. 

“Oh? A big family?”

You shake your head. “No, I have enough siblings as it is. One, two at most.”

“Hm, a boy or a girl?”

You smiled at him tenderly, your hand brushing against the edges of his lower head, your fingertips meeting the dark raven hair over and over. “It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.”

“Hm, but if you have to choose?”

“A girl would be nice as the eldest.” You tell him softly. “A warm elder sister to welcome her little sibling to the world would be most tender.”

Toji's gaze softened as he listened to your words, a faint smile gracing his lips at the notion of starting a family. "I want that too," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "A family of my own, someday."

Your heart swelled with warmth at his confession, knowing that you shared this cherished dream. "I've always dreamed of having a family," you confessed, your voice filled with quiet longing.

Curiosity sparkled in Toji's eyes as he turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently intertwined with yours. "If you had a child, what would you name the girl, if you had her?" he asked softly.

Without hesitation, you smiled and replied, "Tsumiki." As you spoke, you traced the characters for each letter onto the palm of his hand, the strokes delicate and deliberate. "It means 'haven of beautiful chronicles'.”

Toji's eyes met yours, his expression reflecting a mix of awe and tenderness. "It's a beautiful name," he murmured, his thumb brushing over the characters etched into his skin. "For a beautiful future."

Toji's words stirred a tender warmth within you, melting your heart away to be his. His vulnerability echoed your own desires, creating a connection that transcended the boundaries of words. As he expressed his longing for a family, you couldn't help but feel a deep resonance within your heart, a shared dream that bound you together on purpose.

Toji's reaction was one of gentle reverence, his thumb brushing over the characters etched into his skin with a touch of awe. As you traced the characters onto his palm, you infused each stroke with the depth of your love and hope for the future.

In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own dreams, a shared vision of a future filled with love, warmth, and possibility. And as he spoke of the beauty of the name you had chosen, you felt a sense of gratitude wash over you, knowing that in each other's company, the seeds of a beautiful future had already been planted.

“I see the regular life everyone has, though.” Toji whispers to you as he moved closer to you, his arms on your waist. “I see swimming pools, living rooms. Those little airplanes, the toy ones.”

You giggle against him. “The little house on the hills? Just enough for us. Walls with children’s names, their height.”

Toji hummed at you, placing a small kiss upon your head. “Quiet nights with those ice and those booze, when its just.”

“Yeah,” You say to him, meeting his eyes. “I want that.”

“With me?”

You smiled widely, nodding. “Yes, with you.”

As the tender moment lingered, a soft breeze stirred the leaves above, casting dancing shadows over your intertwined figures. The air was charged with an electric anticipation, the warmth of Toji's presence enveloping you like a comforting embrace.

With a gentle lean, Toji closed the space between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken emotions. It was a moment of pure vulnerability and trust, a silent affirmation of the deep connection that had blossomed between you.

As he pressed his body against yours, you felt the weight of his presence grounding you in the present moment. His touch was both gentle and passionate, igniting a fire within you that burned with the intensity of shared desire and longing.

In that fleeting moment of intimacy, time seemed to stand still, the world around you fading into insignificance as you lost yourself in the warmth of each other's embrace. It was a kiss filled with promise, a silent vow of love and devotion that echoed in the depths of your souls. Over and over again, you smiled against his lips and he smiled back. It was contentment, it was everything.

And as you surrendered to the sweetness of the moment, you knew that in Toji's arms, you had found your sanctuary, your haven of beautiful chronicles, where love knew no bounds and dreams were born anew with each tender caress.

In the end, these memories wilted little by little.

But he couldn’t let his brain forget who you were.

He never allowed himself to let your smile die out.

You were his drug, one that kept him moving forward.

A gun on his head, your smile on his mind, he pauses.

Tears poured over and over, like  it was the first time again.

IT WAS ALL TOO EARLY FOR THIS. Fushiguro Toji, now a widower after losing his wife just a year ago, was caught off guard by the unexpected knock on his door. Opening it, he found Kamo Kaiko standing there in her sorcerer uniform, hand in hand with a little girl who appeared to be about three years old. The girl wasn't very tall, her brown hair tied in a ponytail, her eyes bright amber-brown. She had an innocence about her, like a little doe, yet there was a warmth in her gaze that seemed to suggest a familiarity beyond their meeting.

Despite his initial surprise, Toji couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort at the sight of the smiling girl. There was something about her demeanor that put him at ease, as though she already knew him, as though they shared some unspoken connection.. 

“It’s been a while, Toji.” Kamo Kaiko says to him, a wave of her hand and a charismatic smile. She hadn’t changed. He wonders if that smile of hers will ever be genuine. 

“What are you doing here?” He says roughly, his body resting against the door frame. “Who knows you’re here?”

“No one.” She tells him, her eyes narrowing confidently at him. “You ought to believe me. I’m good at covering my tracks.”

Toji felt exasperated by her words, as much as this early morning has. He rubs his eyes. He opens the door wide. “Come in.”

“Thank you very much~” Kaiko says as she comes in, taking off her shoes. “Mimi, say the same thing!”

The young girl let out a sound, as though she had forgotten. The girl bows politely and smiles at Toji warmly. “Thank you for letting us in!”

“Come, Mimi! Here’s the tiny indoor shoes for you~”

“Thank you, Kaiko-san!”

Toji thinks he should have not opened the door.

Toji's apartment was in disarray, a tangible reflection of the turmoil that had engulfed his life since his wife's passing. Clutter littered the floor, and the air felt heavy with the weight of grief and solitude. However, Kaiko didn't utter a word of reproach or judgment. She knew all too well the challenges of single parenthood, having navigated them herself in the past.

The young girl, full of curiosity and innocence, caught sight of Toji's son nestled in his crib and couldn't contain her excitement. With wide eyes brimming with curiosity, she asked if she could see the baby. Kaiko's smile softened, and she nodded warmly, reminding the little girl to be gentle and careful with the fragile infant. Toji didn’t mind. It was better that someone was looking after Megumi, even for a little while. He’s absolutely exhausted.

As the children played, Kaiko and Toji settled down to talk, the weight of the conversation heavy in the air. Kaiko offered her condolences on his wife's passing, but Toji's impatience cut through the pleasantries like a sharp blade. "Cut to the chase," he demanded, his tone curt and brusque.

Kaiko's expression turned somber as she delivered the heartbreaking news. "I came to tell you... she's gone," she uttered softly, her voice laced with sorrow. "You lost her at childbirth."

Toji's face contorted with a sudden wave of anguish. His mouth went dry as he anticipated the words he dreaded to hear, yet yearned to know for certain. "Who?" he pressed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You know who," Kaiko replied gently, her gaze unwavering.

"I know," Toji acknowledged, his eyes trembling with emotion as he stared at Kaiko. Despite knowing the answer, he still needed her to say it aloud, as if hearing the confirmation would somehow make the pain more real.

Kaiko's lips tightened as she observed the man before her, grappling with his own torment. She knew that this news would shatter him, just as it had shattered her. With a heavy heart, she spoke your name, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a dense fog.

"It was... a bad situation," Kaiko continued, her voice laced with sorrow. "There were numerous stillbirths and miscarriages. This last one—"

"And none of you stopped him?" Toji's voice cracked with a mixture of anger, anguish, and disbelief. The news of Megumi's mother's death had devastated him, but the thought of you suffering and ultimately losing your life in such a tragic manner ignited a firestorm of emotions within him. His hands slammed down on the table with a force that reverberated throughout the apartment, his eyes narrowed with fury as he confronted Kaiko. "None of you had the courage to intervene? To protect her? You let her die. You let her die at the hands of that monster?"

As Toji's anguished cries filled the air, baby Megumi's response was almost immediate. His tiny wails rose in crescendo, mingling with his father's tumultuous emotions, creating a symphony of sorrow that seemed to echo off the walls of the apartment. Toji's heart clenched at the sound, each cry a painful reminder of the fragility of life and the weight of his loss.

But just as despair threatened to consume him, a figure emerged from the shadows, a ray of hope amidst the darkness. The young girl with doe-like eyes approached with a serene smile, her presence a comforting presence amidst the chaos. With delicate hands, she reached out for baby Megumi, enfolding him in her arms with a tender embrace that seemed to soothe his cries.

"It's okay," she whispered softly, her voice a gentle lullaby that seemed to resonate with the infant's distress. In her arms, Megumi found solace, his sobs gradually subsiding as he nestled against her, finding refuge in her comforting embrace.

Toji's tumultuous emotions seemed to subside, if only for a moment, as he witnessed the touching scene unfolding before him. The sight of the young girl cradling his son and humming a gentle melody cast a tranquil spell over the room, momentarily quelling the storm raging within him. He found himself entranced by her soothing presence, his troubled thoughts momentarily quieted by the tender moment.

As he watched the girl, a flicker of recognition sparked in Toji's eyes, a distant memory stirring within him like a long-forgotten dream. It was as if he could see glimpses of you in her, the way you used to comfort him with your gentle touch and calming voice. His hands trembled with emotion as he turned to face Kaiko, his heart heavy with the weight of grief and regret.

Kaiko met his gaze with a sorrowful expression, her eyes filled with remorse and longing. "I'm sorry, Toji," she murmured softly, her voice laced with emotion. "I couldn't save her from her fate. I couldn't save you from this pain."

Toji's heart tightened at Kaiko's words, the weight of her apology settling heavily upon him. Despite the sorrow in her voice, there was a hint of resolve, a determination to honor a promise made long ago. "But I wanted to keep a promise," she confessed, her gaze drifting towards the young girl who now cradled Megumi in her arms. "At least one more."

Toji's eyes followed Kaiko's gaze, settling on the girl whose presence seemed to bring a measure of solace to the room. A question lingered on his lips as he turned back to Kaiko, his voice barely a whisper. "What's her name?" he inquired softly, his heart heavy with a mixture of curiosity and longing.

A sad smile graced Kaiko's lips as she met Toji's gaze. "Her name is Tsumiki," she revealed gently, her voice tinged with emotion as she spoke the name that carried both sorrow and hope. “Just as she always wanted.”

Toji's heart ached with a mixture of sorrow and gratitude as he gazed at Tsumiki, his tears mingling with Kaiko's. The realization that Tsumiki was the living embodiment of his lost love washed over him like a tidal wave, leaving him feeling both overwhelmed and strangely comforted.

Kaiko's words pierced through the haze of his grief, her voice gentle but firm. "They don't know that she's alive, Tsumiki," she explained, her own tears betraying the depth of her sorrow. "Genmei arranged it all. They wouldn't look for her now."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, leaving Toji grappling with a torrent of emotions. "Why?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "Why are you...?"

Kaiko met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "This is what my cousin would have wanted," she replied softly. "You were the only person that truly did love her. Tsumiki would be safer here. She would be loved and..."

Toji's voice trailed off, his eyes fixed on Tsumiki's innocent face as he wiped away his tears. "I didn't notice," he murmured, his words tinged with regret. "How much she looked like her mother."

"Spitting image of her," Kaiko agreed in a bittersweet tone, her gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and fondness.

Toji's fingertips grazed Tsumiki's silky hair, the soft strands a poignant reminder of the gentle touch he had once known. As he watched her tender care for his son, a bittersweet ache tugged at his heartstrings, stirring memories of you and the warmth you had always exuded.

In Tsumiki's innocent gestures, Toji glimpsed echoes of your compassionate spirit, a fleeting reflection of the love and kindness you had bestowed upon him. The sight filled him with a mixture of longing and gratitude, a silent tribute to the precious moments he had shared with you.

Struggling to articulate the depth of his emotions, Toji's voice quivered with unspoken sorrow as he whispered his thanks to Tsumiki. His words hung heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the comfort her presence brought amidst the tumult of his grief.

As Tsumiki cradled his son with unwavering tenderness, Toji felt a flicker of hope stir within his heart. In her gentle embrace, he found solace and strength, a beacon of light illuminating the darkness of his sorrow and reminding him of the enduring power of love.

For the first time in a long time, he felt alive.

He felt alive having known that he has you.

You were always with him, you always loved him.

Years later, Gojo Satoru stood before him, watching.

He could only smile, feeling the chasing sunset.

Two fools would be together again, after all this time.

[mononijikayu]

love me back — fushiguro megumi.

She wonders if Fushiguro Megumi had ever noticed how much she loves him. she wonders when he would ever notice those flustered scarlet cheeks. she wonders if he notices when she would wait for him to call her. she wonders if he notices her laughter, when she notices him pouting when he gets told off by his sister. She wants his attention, she loves his attention. She wants him to love her back. she doesn't know if he even loves her back. Maybe Megumi doesn't love her back. but she thinks it's okay. as long as she can love him. At least that’s what she thinks she’ll be okay with.

GENRE: Pre-Fearsome Womb Arc, 2017;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Banter, Awkward Confessions, Misunderstanding, Love at First Sight, Young Love;

masterlist

buono san valentino, 2024;

listen: love me back by fromis_9

SHE COULD REMEMBER IT AS CLEAR AS DAY WHEN SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. Navigating the unfamiliar corridors of her new school, she couldn't shake off the nervous energy that coursed through her veins. Everything about this new town and school felt daunting, like stepping into an uncharted territory where every turn held a new challenge. As she made her way through the bustling hallways, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of anxiety gnawing at her insides.

The morning had started off in a rush, with her jolting awake to the realization that she had overslept. Regret flooded her mind as she remembered losing track of time while immersed in the world of Animal Crossing the previous night. With a sense of urgency propelling her forward, she dashed out of her house and towards the school gates, arriving just in the nick of time.

Breathless and flustered, she darted through the crowded halls, paying no heed to the curious glances and whispers that followed in her wake. Every step felt like a precarious dance on a tightrope, teetering on the edge of uncertainty as she navigated the labyrinthine corridors in search of her classroom. 

Relieved to have made it to her classroom on time, she let out a sigh of relief and offered a small smile as she settled into her seat, backpack safely stowed by her side. Glancing around the room, she noted that the teacher hadn't arrived yet, giving her a brief window of opportunity to slip out and use the restroom.

With a sense of urgency tingling in the back of her mind, she quickly reasoned that a quick five-minute break to relieve herself wouldn't hurt. After all, it was better than risking an embarrassing accident in class. Hastily rising from her seat, she made her way towards the door, determined to make the most of this brief respite.

As she tried to back away from the overly familiar stranger, her heart rate quickened, and her palms grew clammy. His sudden appearance caught her off guard, and she struggled to maintain her composure.

"N-nice to meet you," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly as she attempted to navigate the unexpected encounter.

Her attempts to politely dismiss him were met with persistence as he continued to block her path, his smile unwavering. The pressure of his presence made her feel trapped, her mind racing for a way to escape the uncomfortable situation.

"I really need to go," she insisted, her voice gaining a hint of urgency. "Please, can you move?"

Ignoring her plea, he pressed on, his demeanor becoming increasingly intrusive. Each attempt to evade his advances only seemed to embolden him further, leaving her feeling increasingly vulnerable and desperate for an exit strategy.

As the relentless advances persisted, the knot of unease in her stomach tightened, constricting her breath and clouding her thoughts. Each polite refusal seemed to only embolden the guy, his voice escalating in volume and persistence with every rejected attempt. The weight of his unwanted attention bore down on her, suffocating her in a sea of discomfort.

Despite her attempts to maintain composure, a rising tide of anxiety threatened to overwhelm her as she searched the crowded hallway for a means of escape. Every passing moment felt like an eternity, the clamor of students rushing to their next classes blending into an indistinct cacophony around her.

Her heart pounded in her chest like a drumbeat of distress, the rhythmic thud echoing in her ears as she desperately sought relief from the unwanted attention. With each futile attempt to fend off the persistent advances, her sense of unease deepened, gnawing at the edges of her resolve.

As she began to feel trapped in the awkward encounter, a familiar figure emerged from the crowd. A dark-haired boy with piercing green eyes strode purposefully towards them along the bustling hallway. She blinked in surprise, her gaze fixed on him as he approached.

He appeared to be around her age, maybe a fellow classmate? She gulped nervously as he neared, his calm expression belying the steely resolve in his eyes as he assessed the situation. Despite his youth, there was an air of authority about him that demanded attention.

"Hey, is everything okay here?" His voice, though calm, carried a note of authority as he addressed the persistent guy, his gaze unwavering as he met the other's gaze. The subtle intensity in his tone left no room for argument, signaling his readiness to intervene if necessary.

The guy, taken aback by the sudden appearance of the raven-haired boy, stammered for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption. He glanced nervously between the two of them, his attempts to maintain his composure faltering under the scrutiny of the newcomer. 

"Uh, I was just, you know, talking to her. No harm intended," he muttered, trying to brush off the situation with a forced smile.

Megumi's sharp gaze bore into the guy, his expression unreadable yet undeniably intimidating. The guy squirmed under the weight of Megumi's scrutiny, his good graces faltering as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Talking, huh?" Megumi's voice was calm but laced with an underlying edge, sending a shiver down the guy's spine. "Didn't seem like she was interested in what you had to say."

The guy shifted uncomfortably, his confidence visibly waning as he realized he was outmatched. He stuttered, his words failing him as he struggled to come up with a convincing response. It was clear to everyone watching that he was no match for her newfound savior’s unwavering presence.

Sensing the guy's growing discomfort, The dark haired boy’s eyes continued to pierce through the other boy who started to back away. The guy shifted uncomfortably under Megumi's scrutiny, realizing that his attempts to salvage the encounter were futile.

"Right, well, I'll just, uh, see you around," the guy muttered hastily, before practically fleeing from the scene, eager to escape Megumi's piercing gaze.

She watched with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, her gaze flickering between the two boys. This boy must be known for trouble, she thought, noting the subtle tension in his posture despite his seemingly calm demeanor. Yet, there was something in his eyes, a kindness that softened the furrow of his brow, that reassured her despite the uncertainty of the moment.

As the raven-haired boy stepped closer, effectively closing the distance between them, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his intervention. Relief was all that flooded through her as the young boy in front of her deftly diffused the tense atmosphere, his presence serving as a reassuring anchor amidst the chaos of the hallway. When the guy disappeared, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, offering her savior a grateful smile.

 "Thank you for that. I really appreciate it," she said, her voice tinged with relief and admiration.

“It’s no problem.” He said, ever so nonchalantly, as his hands rested on his pockets. “That boy wouldn’t bother you again.”

“That’s good to know.” She huffs in relief. 

Megumi offered her a small nod, his green eyes meeting hers briefly. “He didn’t do anything else?”

She shook her head, her eyes beaming at him with gratitude. “O-oh no. It was all because of you. Thank you.”

“Hm, that’s good.” He nodded once more and slowly turned away from her, intending to leave without another word. However, her sudden call caught him off guard.

“O-oh! Hey, come back!” she called out to him, her voice slightly shaky with nervousness. She felt herself growing even more flustered at her own boldness, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson. Megumi turned his head slightly, curious about her sudden change in demeanor. Her embarrassment only seemed to intensify as she struggled to find her words.

“W-what’s your name?”

“Fushiguro,” he replied, his tone steady but his eyes sharp. “Fushiguro Megumi.”

She bowed her head at him, her movements respectful and earnest. Megumi seemed momentarily stunned by her gesture, turning half of his body to face her fully. “Thank you so much for helping me!”

“U-uh,” he stammered, feeling a slight sense of unease at her overwhelming gratitude. He glanced away, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, and nodded in acknowledgment.

Despite his attempt to leave, she continued to express her gratitude, her words flowing forth with genuine emotion. "No, really, I mean it. You're like my hero, Megumi. I don't know what I would've done without you."

Megumi's cheeks flushed even deeper at her effusive thanks, his usual stoic demeanor faltering slightly under the unexpected praise. "Hey, it was nothing, okay? You don't need to thank me so much," he mumbled, his tone gruff as he shifted uncomfortably. “Also, how are we on a first-name basis already?”

But she couldn't seem to stop herself, her words spilling out in an unstoppable torrent of appreciation. "But I have to! You saved me back there, and I'll never forget it. You're amazing, Megumi. Besides, aren’t we friends now?”

“How are we friends already? I don’t know you!” He sighed in exasperation, his embarrassment evident as he waved off her continued thanks. 

“Well, we know each other now,” She says, smiling at him. “We’re now friends!”

"Stop thanking me already, geez," he muttered, his cheeks burning bright red as he turned on his heel and hurried back to class, leaving her standing in the hallway with a bemused smile on her face.

“See you later,” She waved him goodbye, still grinning. “Megumi–kun!”

“Stop it already!”

She thinks she didn’t make a friend then.

No, she made a lover in waiting that day.

She got to go to the toilets after that.

But she got detention, for being way too late.

Well, actually, because she caused a ruckus.

But she really didn’t mind it at all, no.

She got to think of Fushiguro Megumi all day.

AFTER THAT, IT WAS JUST A SLIPPERY SLOPE OF TRYING TO GET HIS ATTENTION. 

From that moment on, her thoughts were consumed by Megumi. In the bustling classroom, she found herself stealing glances at him whenever she could, her heart skipping a beat every time their eyes accidentally met. She couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude and fondness that had blossomed within her since their encounter in the hallway. 

As she sat at her desk, her mind often wandered to him, replaying the events of that day over and over again. She couldn't help but wonder if he ever noticed her lingering gazes or if he even knew her name. Did he remember her as the girl he had rescued from an uncomfortable situation, or was she just another face in the crowd to him? 

Despite her uncertainty, she couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her whenever she thought of him. There was something about Megumi's calm demeanor and unwavering kindness that drew her in, leaving her yearning for more of his attention. Yet, she couldn't bring herself to approach him directly, afraid of overstepping boundaries or making things awkward between them.

She watched him from afar, her heart aflutter with every stolen glance. There was something captivating about him, something that drew her in like a moth to a flame. She cherished every moment they shared, no matter how brief, replaying them in her mind like scenes from a cherished movie.

Despite the distance between them, she felt a deep connection to him, as if they were bound together by an invisible thread of fate. She admired his stoic demeanor, his quiet strength, and the way he carried himself with an air of mystery. Yet she wanted to know more about him. Know more about what his dislikes were, what his likes were. What makes him tick, what makes him excited. What makes him smile and what makes his brows furrow. She wants to know everything about him. 

She wonders if Fushiguro Megumi had ever noticed how much she loves him. she wonders when he would ever notice those flustered scarlet cheeks. she wonders if he notices when she would wait for him to call her. she wonders if he notices her laughter, when she notices him pouting when he gets told off by his sister. She wants his attention, she loves his attention. She wants him to love her back. she doesn't know if he even loves her back. Maybe Megumi doesn't love her back. but she thinks it's okay. as long as she can love him. At least that’s what she thinks she’ll be okay with.

But he seems to not always be around.

When she saw him in class, it was rare.

Megumi Fushiguro liked to mind his business.

But somehow he was always at the top of class.

She swooned, he was a smart pretty boy too, huh.

In the quiet moments of the classroom, she would steal glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, her heart racing with anticipation every time their eyes met. She longed to speak to him, to tell him how she felt, but fear held her back, whispering doubts and insecurities in her ear. And so, she contented herself with admiring him from afar, silently admiring the way his eyes sparkled with intelligence, the way his lips curved into a rare smile, and the way he carried himself with quiet confidence.

Lost in her thoughts, she couldn't help but watch Megumi from a distance as he sat beneath the tree in the courtyard, engrossed in his book. The sight of him alone, immersed in his own world, filled her with a sense of longing.

"He looks so peaceful," she murmured to herself, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. "I wonder what book he's reading."

As she observed him from afar, she couldn't help but feel a pang of envy towards the book he held in his hands. It seemed to have captured his undivided attention, drawing him into its world with each turn of the page.

"He always looks so focused when he reads," she mused, her gaze lingering on him fondly. "I wish I could be the one to capture his attention like that."

Despite the distance between them, she couldn't shake the feeling of admiration and longing that swelled within her. Fushiguro Megumi may not have noticed her yet, but she was determined to find a way to capture his attention, even if it meant stepping out of her comfort zone.

She knew that one day, she would find the courage to confess her feelings to him, to tell him how much he meant to her. But until then, she would continue to admire him from afar, her heart filled with admiration and longing for the mysterious tsundere of a boy who had captured her heart. 

As Valentine's Day drew near, she felt a surge of determination coursing through her veins. Watching her classmates muster the courage to approach Megumi and confess their feelings only fueled her resolve to do the same. Yet, with each passing day, the weight of her unspoken emotions grew heavier, weighing down her heart with uncertainty and apprehension.

In the quiet moments of solitude, she grappled with her conflicting emotions, torn between the fear of rejection and the longing to express her feelings to Megumi. But deep down, she knew that she couldn't let her fears hold her back any longer. She had to take a leap of faith, to lay her heart bare and confess her feelings, regardless of the outcome.

And so, with determination burning bright in her heart, she made a decision. She would confess her feelings to Megumi on Valentine's Day, no matter the outcome. If he didn't feel the same way, she would accept it with grace and dignity, knowing that she had poured her heart and soul into her confession.

With trembling hands and a racing heart, she poured her emotions into handmade chocolates, each one a labor of love crafted with care and affection. Each chocolate was a symbol of her unspoken feelings, a testament to the depth of her affection for Megumi.

As she wrapped the chocolates in delicate paper and tied them with a ribbon, she felt a sense of liberation wash over her. She was ready to take the plunge, to lay her heart bare and confess her feelings to Megumi, no matter the outcome. For her, Valentine's Day wasn't just about romance—it was about seizing the opportunity to express her true feelings and find closure, whatever the result may be.

She wishes she didn't love at all.

But life without love makes her feel ill.

Cause then, there isn't someone to love.

There wouldn't be any Megumi to love.

She screamed against the blank wall.

Courage, she thinks, comes from fear.

MAYBE IT WAS A BAD IDEA TO TRY AND CONFESS TODAY. As Valentine's Day dawned, she found herself engulfed in a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. Her heart raced with each step she took towards Megumi, her palms clammy with sweat as she clutched the box of handmade chocolates tightly in her hands. She spotted him standing by one of the hallway windows, the soft light filtering through the glass casting a gentle glow on his features. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, and she couldn't help but admire the serene aura that surrounded him.

Taking a deep breath to steady her trembling nerves, she approached him slowly, her heart hammering in her chest. Every step felt like an eternity as she closed the distance between them, her mind swirling with a myriad of emotions. She couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered at the back of her mind, wondering how many other girls had already confessed their feelings to Megumi on this special day, and how many rejections he had already doled out.

But despite her fears and insecurities, she knew there was no turning back now. She had poured her heart and soul into making those chocolates for him, infusing each piece with all the love and devotion she held for him in her heart.

As she approached Megumi, each step felt like a monumental feat, her heart pounding in her chest with every beat. She could sense his presence before she even reached him, the air around them crackling with tension and anticipation. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned towards her, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that took her breath away.

His emerald eyes, glistening like a tranquil meadow kissed by the morning dew, bore into her own, sending shivers down her spine. It was as if his gaze held the power to unravel her very soul, to lay bare her deepest desires and fears. She felt herself getting lost in those mesmerizing depths, her own eyes shimmering like stars in the night sky as they locked with his.

As Megumi's eyes met hers, she could see a flicker of surprise and curiosity dance in their depths, mingled with a hint of something she couldn't quite decipher. Was it confusion? Apprehension? Or perhaps something else entirely? She couldn't tell, but she knew she had to push past her own insecurities and doubts.

With trembling lips and a racing heart, she extended the box of handmade chocolates towards him, her hands trembling with nervous energy. She watched as his gaze flickered down to the box, then back up to meet her own, his expression unreadable.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she summoned every ounce of courage she had and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper yet ringing with determination. "M-Megumi," she began, her words faltering slightly as she struggled to find the right words. "I-I made these chocolates for you. F-For Valentine's Day.”

He didn’t speak back to her.

Rather he stood there.

Almost frozen at her words.

She felt even her heart race.

“I just wanted to say... I really like you. I've liked you for a while now, and I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore." She whispered slowly under her breath, eyes looking back and forth at his face. “You saved me during that first day and I….I admired you so much from afar after that. So I….I hope you can accept this honmei–choco from me!”

Her heart pounded in her chest as she awaited his response, her entire being trembling with anticipation. She knew this moment would shape the course of their relationship, whatever it may be, and she could only hope that her feelings would be reciprocated.

In that pregnant pause, the atmosphere between them crackled with tension, each passing second feeling like an eternity as they stood locked in a silent exchange. Megumi's gaze shifted between her and the box of chocolates she held, his usually composed demeanor momentarily faltering under the weight of her confession.

She held her breath, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she was sure he could hear it too. Every fiber of her being was attuned to his reaction, hanging on the edge of anticipation for his response. Would he accept her heartfelt gesture? Or would he gently reject her, shattering the fragile hope that had bloomed in her chest?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Megumi's lips parted, his voice soft yet tinged with uncertainty as he spoke. "I-I don't know what to say," he murmured, his tone hesitant as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.

Her heart sank at his words, a rush of disappointment flooding through her veins. Had she misread his feelings? Had she been foolish to hope for something more? She fought to maintain a semblance of composure, her gaze steady as she waited for him to continue.

Megumi's brows furrowed in thought as he searched for the right words, his gaze flickering with a myriad of emotions she couldn't quite decipher. "T-thank you," he finally said, his voice slightly hoarse as he reached out to accept the box of chocolates from her trembling hands. "I appreciate the gesture. I... I'll cherish them."

His words, though polite and gracious, felt like a gentle rejection to her ears, a bittersweet reminder of the unrequited feelings she had poured into her heartfelt confession. Despite the pang of disappointment that tugged at her heartstrings, she forced a small smile onto her lips, nodding in understanding.

"O-of course," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she took a step back, her heart heavy with unspoken emotions. "I'm glad you like them."

With a final, lingering glance, she turned away, her footsteps heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unrequited feelings. As she retreated from his presence, she couldn't help but wonder if their paths would ever cross again, if the feelings she harbored for him would ever find their way into his heart.

As she hurried away, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling of regret that gnawed at her insides. Had she made a mistake by confessing her feelings to Megumi? Perhaps she had misjudged the situation, letting her emotions get the better of her in the heat of the moment.

Megumi watched her retreating figure with a conflicted expression, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He wanted to say something, to reach out and stop her from leaving, but the words eluded him, caught in the tangle of his own uncertainty.

"Wait," he called out, his voice barely above a whisper as he took a hesitant step forward, but she was already disappearing around the corner, out of sight.

With a heavy sigh, Megumi ran a hand through his hair, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words and missed opportunities. He knew he had to find a way to express his true feelings to her, to make things right between them, but he couldn't deny the overwhelming sense of unease that lingered in the pit of his stomach.

As he watched her vanish from view, a pang of regret washed over him, a silent acknowledgment of the opportunity that had slipped through his fingers. He couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake by not speaking up, by not seizing the chance to tell her how he truly felt.

With a heavy heart, Megumi turned and made his way back to his classroom, his mind consumed with thoughts of the girl who had captured his heart, and the confession that had changed everything between them. He knew he couldn't let her slip away without a fight, without giving their budding relationship a chance to blossom into something beautiful. But for now, all he could do was wait and hope for another opportunity to make things right.

He looks at the chocolate for a moment.

Megumi tries to unwrap it all carefully.

He felt his lips turn into a flat line as he looked.

He broke apart the chocolate and ate it.

“It tastes good.” He whispers to himself.

He could feel his heart pounding hard.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI WAS RUSHING ACROSS THE SCHOOL. As Megumi hurried to school, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He was running late, and the pressure of making things right with her weighed heavily on his mind. Fortunately, Gojo was at home that day, and with his help in teleporting, Megumi managed to arrive just in time for the school bell.

As he stepped onto the school grounds, Gojo gave him a playful pinch on the cheek, wishing him good luck. The unexpected gesture caught Megumi off guard, and he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He muttered a quick thanks before hurrying towards his classroom.

However, as he passed by his sister Tsumiki's building, she waved him off from the balcony, offering him a warm smile and wishing him luck for the day. Megumi's blush deepened at her well wishes, feeling a surge of gratitude towards his supportive sister.

Despite the encouragement from Gojo and Tsumiki, Megumi couldn't shake off the nerves that plagued him. He knew that he had to make things right with her, to apologize for his inability to respond to her confession on Valentine's Day.

Since Valentine's Day, she had been avoiding him like the plague. In class, she strategically positioned herself as far away from him as possible, ensuring they never made eye contact or exchanged a single word. Even in the hallways, she made a conscious effort to steer clear of him, darting down different corridors or slipping into crowded groups of students to avoid any chance encounters.

For Megumi, her sudden change in behavior weighed heavily on his heart. He couldn't help but feel a pang of regret every time he caught a glimpse of her purposefully avoiding him. He knew that his inability to express his feelings properly had caused her pain, and he desperately wished he could turn back time and make things right.

Every moment of silence between them felt like a dagger to his heart, a constant reminder of his failure to convey his true emotions. He wanted nothing more than to tell her how he felt, to let her know that she occupied every corner of his mind and every beat of his heart. He wanted her to understand just how deeply he cared for her, how she had become the center of his world from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

The days that followed Valentine's Day were filled with a sense of unease and tension between them, both uncertain of how to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Megumi couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavily on his conscience, knowing that he had inadvertently hurt her with his lack of response. But as the days, the weeks passed and she continued to distance herself from him, Megumi couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of longing and frustration that consumed him. He found himself lost in a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of how to bridge the growing divide between them.

It wasn't until a particularly rough day at school, when Megumi found himself caught in a heated altercation with another student, that he realized just how deeply his feelings for her ran. She had been passing by, her eyes widening in shock as she witnessed the confrontation unfold. The sight of her only fueled his determination to protect her, even if it meant putting himself in harm's way.

After the incident, Gojo had approached him with a knowing smile, teasing him about his newfound love. Despite his initial embarrassment, Megumi couldn't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that his feelings hadn't gone unnoticed. Even his sister Tsumiki had expressed her happiness for him, offering her support and encouragement as he navigated the complexities of love and relationships.

Despite the teasing and the uncertainty that still lingered between them, Megumi knew that he would do whatever it took to make things right with her. He was determined to find a way to convey his true feelings, to bridge the gap that had formed between them and show her just how much she meant to him. And as he gathered his courage to take the first step towards reconciliation, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope flicker in his heart, guiding him towards a future filled with love and happiness.

As the day of reckoning drew near, Megumi's resolve solidified. He couldn't bear the thought of letting another day pass without addressing the rift that had formed between them. With his sister's assistance, he meticulously crafted a heartfelt gift, pouring his emotions into every delicate detail.

On White Day, as the school buzzed with anticipation and excitement, Megumi steeled himself for the moment of truth. He carried the small box containing his carefully prepared gift, his heart pounding with nervous energy as he made his way through the bustling hallways.

Upon reaching her classroom, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves before stepping inside. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to him, and he felt the weight of their expectations resting heavily on his shoulders.

Ignoring the curious stares and whispered speculation, Megumi made his way towards her desk, his footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet room. With each step, his resolve grew stronger, fueled by the knowledge that this was his chance to make things right.

Finally reaching her, he stood before her desk, his gaze meeting hers with a mix of determination and vulnerability. Without a word, he extended the small box towards her, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for her reaction.

For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected gesture. She took the box from him, her fingers trembling slightly as she carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Inside, she found a beautifully crafted piece of white chocolate, intricately shaped and adorned with delicate designs. The sight of it brought a soft smile to her lips, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in her chest as she looked up at him.

Megumi's heart raced as he watched her reaction, his own emotions swirling inside him like a turbulent storm. He knew that this moment held the power to change everything between them, to mend the rift that had formed and pave the way for a new beginning.

"I... I made these for you," He said softly, offering her a box of white chocolate formed into small roses. He looked absolutely nervous, his fingers were shaking, he was pretty sure.  "With my sister's help, of course."

She blinked in surprise, her eyes widening as she accepted the gift with trembling hands. "You... You made these for me?"

Megumi nodded, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Yeah. I wanted to... I wanted to apologize for what happened on Valentine's Day. I'm sorry for causing you trouble, and for not being able to respond properly."

She felt her heart swell with a mixture of joy and relief at his heartfelt apology. "No, it's okay," she replied, her voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for this. It means a lot to me."

“I….I’m glad you like it.” He looks down on his calloused fingers. He worked hard on them, for days. There was a lot of mess, and frustration. But it was worth it. Because she was smiling. “It really was….hard.”

Megumi sat at the kitchen table, frustration evident in the furrow of his brow as he attempted to mold the white chocolate into delicate rose petals. His sister, Tsumiki, stood beside him, offering guidance and encouragement with a patient smile.

"Come on, Megumi, you're almost there," Tsumiki said, her voice gentle but firm as she watched him struggle with the chocolate. "Just a little more finesse, and you'll get it."

Megumi sighed heavily, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to mimic his sister's graceful movements. He had always admired Tsumiki's skill in the kitchen, but he never realized just how difficult it was to master the art of chocolate sculpting.

"I don't understand why I can't get it right," Megumi muttered, frustration creeping into his voice as he tried to shape the chocolate into a semblance of a rose petal. "It's like my hands have a mind of their own."

Tsumiki chuckled softly, reaching out to gently adjust his grip on the chocolate. "Relax, Megumi. Making chocolate roses takes practice, but I know you can do it," she said, her voice filled with confidence. "Just take a deep breath and try again."

Megumi nodded, taking a moment to steady his nerves before focusing his attention back on the task at hand. With renewed determination, he carefully shaped the chocolate, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to emulate Tsumiki's expert technique.

After several more attempts, Megumi finally managed to create a passable rose petal, albeit with a few lumps and imperfections. He looked up at his sister with a mixture of pride and relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I did it," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief as he held up the chocolate rose for Tsumiki to see. "It may not be perfect, but I made it."

Tsumiki beamed at him, her eyes shining with pride as she reached out to gently ruffle his hair. "I knew you could do it, Megumi," she said, her voice filled with affection. "And trust me, practice makes perfect. By the time you're done, you'll be a pro at making chocolate roses. And maybe you’ll impress that girl you like!”

He could feel his face turn a deep shade of red. “Knock it off!”

“Ha ha ha, how cute is young love!” Gojo teased from the sofa, in the living room. “Genmei, quick, take the camera and take pictures!”

“Satoru, we can’t keep teasing him like this, he won’t survive the night!” Genmei pursed her lips, slapping his her husband’s hand. 

“Eh~ But its fun!”

“Megumi!” She called to him, almost worried that he got lost for a moment there. “You’re furrowing your brows!”

“O-oh.” He felt a little bit embarrassed now. Megumi swears, he really is going to punch Gojo one of these days. “Sorry….I blanked out.”

She laughed, her face turning red. “It’s okay…..It’s cute.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him.

"I just….” He continued, his voice growing softer as he spoke, "I.. I care about you. A lot. And I hope that we can move past this and start over."

She looked at him tenderly. “Of course we can, Megumi.”

Megumi took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say next. "And... There's something else I wanted to tell you. I... I realized that I have feelings for you too. I'm sorry for not saying it sooner."

Her eyes widened in surprise at his confession, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected revelation. "You... You do?"

He nodded, his gaze unwavering as he met her eyes. "Yeah. I do."

A warm smile spread across her face, her heart overflowing with happiness and gratitude. "Thank you, Megumi. Thank you for everything."

Megumi returned her smile, a weight lifting off his shoulders as he basked in the warmth of her acceptance. "No, thank you. For giving me a second chance."

She grins at him, red cheeks echoing.

Fushiguro Megumi thinks he's happy.

Just seeing her smile, knowing of his love.

This was the best decision ever, he was sure.

It's just nice to be loved back, so well.

extra : at the gojo household

Satoru Gojo stood in front of the mirror, meticulously adjusting his tie to perfection. The blue hour filtered through the window, casting a gleam on the small box of white chocolates he held in his hand. It was a White Day gift for his beloved wife, Genmei, a token of his affection and appreciation for her unwavering support.

With a satisfied smile, Satoru carefully tucked the chocolates into his pocket, ensuring they were safely secured for the day ahead. Just as he finished, his phone chimed with a new message, interrupting the peaceful moment.

Curiosity piqued, Satoru unlocked his phone to find a message from Megumi. The text was brief but direct: "I'll punch you later."

A chuckle escaped Satoru's lips as he read the message, his eyebrows quivering in amusement. "Oh, Megumi," he murmured to himself, his lips curling into a playful grin. 

Without hesitation, he tapped out a reply, his fingers dancing across the screen. "I'll take my chances! 😄"

As he hit send, Satoru couldn't help but imagine Megumi's reaction on the other end. The thought brought another chuckle to his lips as he slipped his phone back into his pocket, ready to embark on his day.

"Kids these days," he mused with a shake of his head, a fond smile lingering on his lips as he made his way out the door, eager to surprise Genmei with the thoughtful gift. "Ah~ Young love."

[mononijikayu]

night flower ─ ryomen sukuna.

Despite knowing the futility of his desires, The King of Curses couldn't suppress the ache in his heart. It was pathetic. When he thought he had long past any human desires, one thought of you shatters him whole. Everything of you was a ghost, a curse, his pain, his grief. All the things that should not be. Yet, he knew he was stuck with you. He can never bury you. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he tried. And he hated it. He hated how this made him feel. And most of all, he hated you. He hated you, his untenable night flower.

GENRE: Heian Era to Cursed Womb Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Mentions of Character Death, Mention of Grief, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Mild Angst, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining;

masterlist

kayu's playlist, side 400;

listen: night flower by ahn ye eun

note: i ended up changing the song, this was so emotional!!! this sukuna story blurb is an introduction to an upcoming chapter of us and them, which i will be writing soon!!! i had to write them because they're in my brain, having an angst life. anyway, i hope you're having a good day!!! please hydrate and take care of yourself, i love you!!! <3

HE DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD EVER BE POSSIBLE FOR HIM TO BE SO NOSTALGIC. Ryomen Sukuna moved with deliberate caution through the expansive compound, his steps measured and precise, as if treading on eggshells to avoid disturbing the slumbering inhabitants. In a place where every sound was magnified, he couldn't afford to make even the slightest noise.In the recesses of memory, Sukuna was haunted by the austere edicts of the Ryomen clan, their enforcement a testament to the severity of tradition. The memory of bamboo striking palm under curfew's shadow lingered, its echo dancing through the corridors of time. 

Amidst the shroud of darkness and hushed whispers, Sukuna traversed the once-familiar paths of his ancestry. Each step carried the weight of disdain for the new moniker donned by his once-proud lineage. The rise of the Mikoto, descendants turned usurpers, cast a pall over the legacy of the Ryomen. 

To Sukuna, this renaming was a grievous wound upon the honor of his clan, a desecration of their noble lineage. The Mikoto, in his eyes, were but pale imitations, lacking the fortitude and majesty that once defined the Ryomen's grandeur. 

Yet, amidst his scorn, Sukuna was forced to confront his own culpability in the clan's decline. His defiance of tradition, his embrace of cursed power, had kindled a flame that consumed the Ryomen's glory. Now, as he treaded the silent halls of his forebears, the burden of his transgressions weighed heavily upon his spirit.

In the hallowed halls of the clan manor, Sukuna moved with the silent grace of a feline predator stalking its prey. Each step he took echoed with a quiet intensity, as if the very shadows themselves yielded to his presence. His senses, finely attuned to the symphony of the night, allowed him to discern the subtlest of sounds and movements in the darkness.

Like a nocturnal hunter, Sukuna prowled through the labyrinthine pathways of the manor, his movements fluid and deliberate. Every corner turned, every corridor traversed, was a testament to his instinctual prowess. The air around him seemed to hum with anticipation, as if the very walls whispered secrets only he could comprehend.

In this clandestine ballet of shadows and whispers, Sukuna was the undisputed master. His senses, sharpened by centuries of existence, guided him through the darkness with unwavering precision. And as he moved with silent purpose, a sense of primal satisfaction coursed through his veins, reminding him of the ancient power that pulsed within his being.

The body he inhabited belonged to a weary traveler, half-asleep and oblivious to the ancient being residing within. Itadori Yuuji was barely able to keep a hold of him, even in his slumber. And yet he supposed, it was the only reason he was alive. He scoffed. It was better than nothing. Better than being without a body. He’ll figure it out, he was certain. But until then, Sukuna's consciousness coexisted with the boy's, a symbiotic relationship born out of necessity rather than choice. He had seized control of the boy's form, driven by his insatiable hunger for power and dominance.

As he moved silently through the moonlit courtyard, Sukuna couldn't help but scoff at the mention of Kyoto, once known as Heian-kyo. Such trivialities held no significance to him; his existence transcended the petty concerns of mortals. He cared little for the names of cities or the passing of time—it was power and conquest that consumed his thoughts, driving him ever forward in his relentless pursuit of supremacy.

In the quiet of the night, amidst the ancient stones and whispering winds, Ryomen Sukuna found himself standing once more in the hallowed grounds of his past. The air was heavy with memories, echoes of a time long gone yet ever present in the recesses of his mind.

He had always known, deep down, that he would return to this place, his spirit inexorably drawn back to the land of the living with each cycle of rebirth. But to behold the familiar sights of his once-beloved home, to feel the earth beneath his feet and the cool night air against his skin—it stirred something within him that he could not name.

The landscape of his former home unfolded before him like a tapestry woven with threads of memory, each detail etched into the very fabric of his being. The ancient structures, weathered by the passage of time, stood as silent sentinels of a bygone era, their stone walls bearing witness to the centuries that had slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine and cherry blossoms, mingling with the faint aroma of incense that wafted through the narrow streets. Lanterns adorned with intricate patterns cast soft pools of light upon the cobblestone pathways, illuminating the way with a warm, inviting glow.

As Sukuna ventured deeper into the heart of his former domain, he passed by familiar landmarks that stirred memories long buried beneath the sands of time. The towering pagoda, its wooden beams weathered and worn, rose majestically against the night sky, a silent testament to the enduring legacy of his clan.

The sound of running water filled the air as Sukuna approached the tranquil gardens that had once been his sanctuary, a haven of peace amidst the chaos of the world. Koi fish swam lazily in the moonlit ponds, their graceful movements a reflection of the timeless tranquility that pervaded the sacred space.

But amidst the beauty and serenity of his former home, Sukuna felt an undeniable sense of melancholy tugging at his heartstrings. The memories of days long past weighed heavily upon him, a reminder of the fleeting nature of existence and the inevitability of change.

And yet, for all the pain and longing that his return had evoked, Ryomen Sukuna could not deny the undeniable pull of nostalgia, the bittersweet symphony of emotions that danced upon the winds of time. For in revisiting the echoes of his past, he found solace in the knowledge that some things remained unchanged, eternal in their immutable beauty.

In the ethereal glow of the moonlight, Ryomen Sukuna traversed the path of his past, each step a testament to the tumult raging within his immortal soul. The air was thick with the weight of centuries, bearing witness to the ebb and flow of time itself. 

As Ryomen Sukuna wandered through the familiar alleyways of his former home, his steps faltered, caught in the delicate web of memories that enveloped his mind like a gentle breeze. Amidst the labyrinthine paths, he found himself transported back to moments shared with you, like fragile petals dancing upon the winds of his thoughts.

Pausing amidst the hushed stillness of the courtyard, Sukuna's gaze fell upon the scene before him. Though the landscape had changed, the essence of the place remained etched in his memory with crystalline clarity. Each stone, each flower, held echoes of the past, stirring dormant recollections within his soul.

In the tranquility of the courtyard, Sukuna's mind drifted back to a time long gone, a time when laughter filled the air and joy knew no bounds. He remembered the sound of your laughter, like music to his ears, as you danced with abandon in the gentle patter of raindrops. Your laughter, so pure and infectious, had once been the melody that accompanied his existence.

Yet, amidst the fleeting moments of happiness, Sukuna couldn't escape the shadows that loomed on the horizon, casting a pall over the memories of days gone by. Despite the passage of time and the trials they had faced, the memory of your laughter remained etched in his heart, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him.

As you gazed at him with those tender, doe-like eyes, a spark of excitement dancing within their depths, Sukuna found himself ensnared in the magnetic pull of your enthusiasm. Your invitation to dance in the rain stirred something within him, a flicker of longing amidst the depths of his stoicism. 

Despite his usually composed exterior, Sukuna felt a ripple of uncertainty course through him at the thought of indulging in such carefree revelry. The notion of abandoning the constraints of propriety and embracing spontaneity tugged at the edges of his resolve, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed facade he wore.

With a hesitant brush of his free hand through his hair, Sukuna wrestled with conflicting emotions, torn between the allure of your infectious enthusiasm and the weight of his own reservations. In that moment, suspended between reluctance and desire, he grappled with the choice before him, unsure of which path to tread.

"Come on, Sukuna, let's dance in the rain!" You called to him, the pitch of your voice boisterous with excitement. Rain hadn’t come in a few days. You and the other priestesses in the shrine had been begging the heavens for rain water, for the harvest. And you were gladdened, the gods had listened. And you now want to celebrate. You grinned. “Come!” 

Your mischievous smile and playful insistence proved to be irresistible, gradually eroding Sukuna's resolve as he found himself drawn deeper into the whirlwind of your enthusiasm. Despite the furrow of his brows and the sheen of sweat upon his brow, he couldn't deny the tug of your infectious energy.

With each hesitant step forward, Sukuna's internal conflict became more palpable, his movements marked by a hesitant dance between desire and duty. His concern for your safety and reputation weighed heavily upon him, casting a shadow over the impulsive joy of the moment.

As you reveled in the downpour, heedless of the consequences to your brightly colored kimono or the mud that clung to your delicate attire, Sukuna felt a pang of guilt gnaw at his conscience. Your father's expectations loomed large in his mind, a constant reminder of the responsibility entrusted to him to safeguard your well-being.

Watching you frolic amidst the puddles, your laughter echoing through the air, Sukuna's heart clenched with a mixture of apprehension and admiration. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was failing in his duty, his anxiety mounting with each daring leap you took.

"I don't know about this, my lady.” He whispers back to you, as audible as he can. The rain fall was as loud as a drum beat. “You would get sick! And what if someone sees us? Without chaperones? My lady, your reputation–”

Your words resonated with a sense of spontaneity and freedom that he couldn't ignore, stirring something deep within him. You laughed and giggled, and then smiled ever so mischievously back at him. He looked at you as though you were mad, but you did not mind him very much, spinning about the puddles. He calls you, concerned about lacing his words. You look back at him, laughing once again. 

"Who cares about what they’ll say, Sukuna? My reputation? I do not care! Let's live a little! Besides, when was the last time you did something spontaneous? There’s nothing to do today. We ought to enjoy today! Drop all you’re carrying, go on. Join me!”

Reluctantly, Sukuna allowed himself to be led into the open courtyard, his footsteps heavy with apprehension as he followed your lead. The cold rain pelted down upon him, each droplet a testament to the sky's tears, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from you. Your hand, heavy with the chill of the rain, tugged gently at his, pulling him further into the heart of the storm.

Despite his reservations, Sukuna found himself captivated by the warmth of your smile, a beacon of light amidst the darkness of the rain-soaked courtyard. He stumbled slightly, his footing uncertain on the slick pavement, but his eyes remained fixed on you, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your presence.

As you twirled and danced with abandon, your laughter ringing out like music in the night, Sukuna felt a sense of wonder wash over him. Your smile, radiant and full of life, seemed to illuminate the world around him, transforming the dreary landscape into a kaleidoscope of color and light.

At that moment, as the rain fell around them, Ryomen Sukuna felt as though he were standing beneath a canopy of stars, each one shining brightly in the vast expanse of the night sky. And in your smile, he found a warmth and brightness that eclipsed even the most brilliant of constellations, filling him with a sense of wonder and awe.

"Trust me, you won't regret it!" You tell him, as you two are cast into the expanse of the bright grayish skies. You stand in front of him, your kimono wrapping itself deeper into you as you smile at him. You looked up into the sky and felt the rain pour. Enjoying what little tranquility you have born into the rainy day.

As the rain continued to pour down upon him, each droplet a reminder of the world's relentless judgment, Sukuna felt a sense of vulnerability wash over him. Towering over your figure, the rain seemed to amplify his feelings of unease, magnifying his fears of being seen as inferior. 

Despite his usual stoic demeanor, Sukuna's sullen expression softened into a tender gaze as he watched you, his heart stirring with emotions he could scarcely comprehend. In these quiet moments, when the world seemed to fade away and it was just the two of you, he allowed himself to entertain the fleeting hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there could be a place for him in your heart.

But the reality of their disparate stations in life weighed heavily on Sukuna's mind, reminding him of the vast chasm that separated them. He was but a servant, bound by duty and obligation, while you were the epitome of grace and privilege. He knew that he could never bridge that divide, never dare to speak the words of longing that echoed in the depths of his soul.

And so, Sukuna resigned himself to silence, keeping his feelings hidden behind a mask of stoicism and restraint. In the quiet moments between them, he found solace in the unspoken bond they shared, cherishing the fleeting moments of connection even as he kept his true desires locked away in the depths of his heart.

"This is ridiculous..." He mumbles under his breath, clutching his chest. He takes a deep breath.

As you twirled and danced in the rain, your laughter resonating through the empty courtyard, Sukuna found himself mesmerized by your infectious energy. Despite his initial reluctance, he couldn't help but be captivated by the joy that radiated from you with each movement.

Watching you laugh and dance, each step more carefree and uninhibited than the last, Sukuna couldn't help but marvel at your ability to enchant him time and time again. There was something inexplicably magnetic about you, something that drew him in and held him spellbound.

In that moment, as the rain continued to fall around them, Ryomen Sukuna found himself caught in the gravitational pull of your laughter and movement, unable to tear his gaze away. It was as if the world had faded into the background, leaving only the two of you and the symphony of raindrops as you danced beneath the stormy sky.

You laughed as you twirled and nearly fell into a puddle, catching Sukuna off guard as he rushed to you. You continued to laugh as he helped you up, his face contorted in concern. “Come on, Sukuna, let go of your worries and just enjoy the moment! This won’t last forever, now!”

With a reluctant sigh, Sukuna felt himself succumbing to the irresistible allure of the moment. Despite his initial reservations and the weight of his concerns, he found himself swept up in the joy and spontaneity that surrounded him.

As he allowed himself to be drawn further into the dance, a rare smile began to tug at the corners of his lips, betraying the stoic facade he often wore. It was a small, hesitant expression, but one that spoke volumes about the emotions stirring within him.

"Fine, but just this once," Sukuna conceded, his voice laced with a mixture of reluctance and amusement. In that fleeting moment, as he surrendered to the whims of the rain and your infectious enthusiasm, Sukuna felt a sense of liberation wash over him, freeing him from the constraints of his own reservations.

As the rain continued to pour down, its rhythmic patter merging with the sounds of your laughter and the soft rustle of leaves, Sukuna felt the weight of the world slowly lifting from his shoulders. With each step he took, each twirl you shared, the barriers he had erected around his heart began to crumble, giving way to a newfound sense of freedom and joy.

Gone was the stoic demeanor he had worn like armor, replaced instead by an openness and vulnerability he had rarely allowed himself to display. In this moment, surrounded by the gentle embrace of the rain and the warmth of your presence, Sukuna felt truly alive.

Together, you danced amidst the droplets, your movements fluid and graceful, as if you were choreographing a dance with the elements themselves. The world around you faded into obscurity, the worries and cares of the outside world melting away in the face of the simple pleasure of the moment.

For Sukuna, who had known only the harshness of battle and the weight of his own past, this moment of respite was nothing short of a revelation. In your company, he found solace and peace, a fleeting glimpse of the happiness he had long believed to be beyond his reach. And as you danced together in the rain, lost in the beauty of the moment, Sukuna knew that he had found something truly precious: a connection that transcended time and circumstance, and a bond that would endure long after the rain had stopped falling.

In those fleeting moments, when the weight of his burdens momentarily lifted, Sukuna found himself immersed in a world of wonder and awe, captivated by the beauty unfolding before him. That night, when his village burned and he was left with nothing, you stood before him like a beacon of light in the darkness, offering him solace and sanctuary. Behind your eyes, he glimpsed the entire universe, and in that moment, you became his home.

You bestowed upon him a name, a sense of identity that he had never known before. With you, he found happiness, a fleeting but profound sense of joy that made him feel truly alive. Despite the tumultuous journey that followed, and the eventual rift that formed between them, Sukuna couldn't deny the impact you had on his life.

Even now, as he stood amidst the shadows of his past, Sukuna reflected on the world he had burned and subsequently rebirthed. Amidst all the chaos and destruction, he found purpose and beauty in the memories of his time with you. For Sukuna, life had meaning when you were by his side, and that truth remained etched in his heart, even as the sands of time continued to shift and change.

Despite the passage of centuries, the memory of your warm smile remained etched in Sukuna's mind like a sacred mantra, a beacon of light in the darkness of his existence. In those stolen moments of tranquility, he found solace in the knowledge that even in the midst of chaos and turmoil, there existed moments of fleeting happiness, like delicate blossoms scattered upon the winds of time.

As Sukuna stood amidst the haunting walls of his former home, the echoes of your laughter still reverberating in his mind, he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of longing for the simplicity of days gone by. In those moments, when his obsession hadn't yet consumed him, life was free from the suffocating confines of power and strength—they were everything to the monster he once was.

In a world consumed by darkness, you had been his guiding light, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of his existence. Your presence reminded him of the beauty that still existed, even in the bleakest of times. But now, you were beyond his reach, lost to the depths of time and memory. Your soul had vanished, leaving only ashes in its wake.

Despite knowing the futility of his desires, The King of Curses couldn't suppress the ache in his heart. It was pathetic. When he thought he had long past any human desires, one thought of you shatters him whole.  Everything of you was a ghost, a curse, his pain, his grief. All the things that should not be. Yet, he knew he was stuck with you. He can never bury you. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he tried. And he hated it. He hated how this made him feel. And most of all, he hated you. He hated you, his untenable night flower.

As he paused before the ancestral resting place, his pulse quickened with a familiar intensity. This building, standing defiant against the passage of centuries, held the remnants of your existence. He knew you were here, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of history.

But even as he yearned for your return, Ryomen Sukuna couldn't deny the bitter truth: you were gone, forever beyond his grasp. The Gojo clan, in their final act of defiance, had reclaimed your body, leaving Sukuna to mourn the loss of his beloved once more. And overtime, your soul, which he had siphoned to keep forever, had gone and disappeared.  His gaze narrowed.

If Sukuna was being honest with himself, he had no right to be here. Not after what he had done to the clan, not after what he had done to you. But it was fate. You both were marked by fate. You had said so yourself. There was none of you, without him. There was no soul at all, without the other half. He belonged to you as much as you belonged to him. 

As Sukuna's words hung heavy in the air, you struggled to comprehend the weight of his confession. The revelation that he intended to leave, to abandon the safety of your clan and the familiarity of home, sent a shiver down your spine. Clutching your silk sleeve to your chest, you couldn't suppress the rising sense of panic that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Why?" you implored, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and desperation. "What do you mean you intend to leave?"

Sukuna met your gaze with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil within his soul, his own eyes reflecting the conflict raging within. "I cannot stay," he confessed, his voice heavy with resignation. "This is not where I belong. This is not our clan. This is not home."

Your heart sank at his words, the gravity of his decision weighing heavily upon you. "But Sukuna, the Fujiwara are still a threat," you protested, shaking your head in disbelief. "They still have a bounty on your head. You cannot leave now, not when danger lurks at every turn."

"I cannot stay here... under the Gojo," Sukuna murmured, bitterness lacing his words like venom. The mere mention of the rival clan sent a chill down your spine. "What if they sell us to the Kamo? Or to the Zenin?"

The thought of falling into the hands of their enemies sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't deny the validity of Sukuna's concerns. Yet, the idea of him leaving, of facing the dangers of the world alone, filled you with a profound sense of dread.

As Sukuna's words cut through the air with a sharpness that stunned you, a sense of disbelief washed over you. His declaration, delivered with an intensity that left no room for argument, left you reeling, struggling to comprehend the depth of his mistrust.

"My husband would never do that—" you began, your voice faltering as you tried to reason with him, to bridge the chasm that seemed to widen between you with each passing moment.

"I do not trust him!" Sukuna's retort was swift, his voice tinged with an edge of desperation that startled both you and him. The realization of his own words seemed to hang heavy in the air, his breath catching in his throat as he lowered his head in a rare display of vulnerability. "I never will... You cannot force me to."

The weight of his refusal echoed in the silence that followed, leaving you grappling with the reality of his steadfast determination. As the head of your household, you had hoped your authority would carry weight, but Sukuna's unwavering resolve proved to be an immovable barrier.

"Not even as..." you trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you searched for a way to sway him, to appeal to the bond that once united you both.

"No." Sukuna's response was resolute, his head held high as he met your gaze with a steely determination that sent a shiver down your spine. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of emotions too complex to decipher, a glimpse into a soul that had been irrevocably changed by the passage of time and the weight of his own burdens. 

This was not the Sukuna you once knew, you realized with a pang of sorrow. He was someone else entirely, a stranger to the depths of your heart. As the realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, you couldn't help but mourn the loss of the man you once loved, the man who had long since slipped away, leaving only a shadow of his former self behind. No, you think, there is only a curse. One that you carved into his soul. Revenge, that’s all that there is to him now. 

The weight of Sukuna's plea hung heavy in the air, mingling with the bittersweet ache that tugged at your heartstrings. His offer of freedom and escape stirred a longing within you, igniting a spark of desire for a life unbound by duty and expectation.

"But where will you go?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the tumult of emotions swirling within you. The thought of Sukuna leaving, of embarking on a journey without you by his side, filled you with a sense of unease that threatened to consume you whole. "Where will you—"

As Sukuna's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch a fleeting caress against your skin, you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. His eyes, filled with a tender sadness that mirrored your own, searched your face as if seeking solace in the depths of your gaze.

"Come with me," he pleaded, his voice a soft whisper that reverberated in the quiet space between you. "We could roam the world together, free from the burdens of our past. We could carve out a new path, forge our own destiny."

Your heart constricted at his words, torn between the allure of adventure and the ties that bound you to this place. The image of a life lived on the road, hand in hand with Sukuna, danced tantalizingly at the edge of your consciousness, tempting you with its promise of liberation.

Tears welled in your eyes at Sukuna's completion of your unspoken words, his understanding piercing through the turmoil of emotions that churned within you. "I'm sorry... I..." Your voice faltered, unable to find the words to express the depths of your conflicted heart.

"I... I can't," you confessed, the words heavy with regret as you struggled to articulate the depth of your conflicting emotions. "I have a family now, Sukuna. My children... I cannot abandon them. Not even if I..." Your voice trailed off, unable to voice the unspoken truth that lingered between you—that even if you yearned to follow him, to lose yourself in the vast expanse of the world by his side, your responsibilities tethered you to this place, anchoring you to a life you had built from the ashes of your past.

"Not even if you want to."

As Sukuna's hand fell away from your cheek, a heavy silence settled between you, thick with the weight of unspoken truths and unfulfilled desires. His eyes, filled with a mixture of resignation and sorrow, bore into yours, conveying a silent understanding of the complexities of your situation.

"I see," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets. "Forgive me for asking."

With a heavy heart, Sukuna turned to leave, his departure casting a shadow over the sacred space between you. The air seemed to grow heavier in his absence, the lingering echo of his presence haunting you like a ghost.

In the wake of his departure, you were left grappling with a tumult of conflicting emotions. Part of you yearned to chase after him, to throw caution to the wind and follow him into the unknown. The allure of adventure and the promise of a life unfettered by the constraints of the mundane world beckoned to you, tempting you to abandon all else in pursuit of the elusive freedom he offered.

As the echoes of Sukuna's footsteps faded into the distance, reality came crashing back in full force, grounding you in the present moment. The weight of your responsibilities and the bonds of love that tied you to your home and family became palpable, reminding you of the life you had chosen and the commitments you held dear.

Though the allure of adventure and the promise of a life untethered from the constraints of the mundane world may have whispered tantalizingly in your ear, you knew that your true happiness lay in the simple joys of everyday life. Surrounded by the familiar comforts of home and the warmth of your loved ones, you found solace and contentment that transcended the call of the unknown.

In the end, it was the love and responsibilities that anchored you to this place, guiding your footsteps and shaping your destiny. While the world beyond may have held its allure, you found fulfillment in the bonds you shared and the life you had built.

But as the sun rose on the new day, casting its golden rays upon the world, news of the massacre of the Fujiwara clan reached your ears. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized the implications. Ryomen Sukuna's journey was far from over—it had only just begun. And with a heavy heart, you knew that the world would never be the same again. He was not your Sukuna anymore. He was the King of Curses. And you cannot love a curse, not even if you wanted to.

The mere thought of standing before your final resting place, the solemn marker of your absence, sent a shiver down Sukuna's spine, a cold sensation that seemed to penetrate to the very core of his being. It was a stark reminder of the transient nature of life, a sobering confrontation with mortality that left him feeling strangely vulnerable.

For Sukuna, who had lived once more after thousands of years had passed, the encounter with your memory was a poignant reminder of the relentless march of time. Reborn into a vessel that barely contained his ancient power, he found himself grappling with the weight of his own existence and the echoes of his past.

Despite his attempts to distance himself from his human origins, to shed the vestiges of his former humanity, Sukuna couldn't help but feel the lingering connection to you. You, who had been his anchor in a world of chaos and darkness, remained a constant presence in his thoughts, a reminder of the humanity he had long abandoned.

Even as he stood on the precipice of oblivion, Sukuna found it impossible to consign your memory to the annals of history. In your absence, you remained etched in his mind, an indelible part of his being that refused to be forgotten, no matter how hard he tried.

As Sukuna stepped into the solemn confines of the ancestral shrine, a rush of memories flooded his mind, transporting him back to a time long past. The faces of those he once knew flickered in the dim light, each visage a testament to the passage of time and the inevitability of mortality.

His footsteps echoed softly against the polished stone floors as he made his way deeper into the shrine, the weight of his presence seeming to hang heavy in the air. Memories intertwined with the shadows, painting a vivid tapestry of days gone by.

Pausing before the grave of your father, Sukuna's gaze lingered, a mixture of reverence and regret coloring his expression. Your father had been a pillar of strength in the clan, a figure revered by all who knew him. And yet, even in death, his presence loomed large, a silent testament to the legacy he had left behind.

But it was when Sukuna's eyes fell upon your grave that time seemed to stand still. There, at the heart of the shrine, stood a full-life statue of you, radiant and eternal in its silent vigil. It was as if you had been frozen in time, your likeness preserved for eternity in marble and stone.

For Sukuna, gazing upon your statue was like confronting a ghost from his past, a haunting reminder of all that he had lost and all that he could never regain. There you stood, unchanged by the passage of centuries, a symbol of everything he could never be.

In that moment, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the life he had left behind, for the warmth of your smile and the comfort of your presence. But as he stood in the shadow of your statue, he knew that his fate was sealed, bound by the chains of his own making.

Your grave stood alone at the center of the shrine, a solitary figure in a sea of memories, worshiped for being all that Sukuna could not be. And as he marveled in the silence,  he couldn't help but wonder what might have been if he had chosen a different path, if he had chosen you over power and immortality. But it was too late for regrets now, too late to undo the choices that had brought him to this moment. All he could do was honor your memory and carry the weight of his sins for eternity.

As he gazes at the statue, the resemblance to your visage is striking, almost intimidating. You had a way of lingering in his thoughts, even after two thousand years had passed, remaining a haunting presence he couldn't shake. Strangely, he finds comfort in your ghostly presence; he doesn't want to escape you, if he's honest with himself. His hands reach out tentatively, mirroring the tenderness you once possessed as they brush against the cold stone. 

It lacks your warmth, yet he tries to conjure the memory of it, knowing your warmth was synonymous with life itself. It's a challenge to forget you; you were unforgettable. He acknowledges that as a man like him, he has no right to mourn—he's no longer truly human. But with you, it's different; you transcended mere humanity. You were his world, his curse, and the ache of longing for you remains.

As Sukuna stands in the solemn presence of the statue, his mind becomes a battlefield of swirling emotions, each thought a tempest threatening to consume him. Amidst the stillness of the shrine, a whisper of a thought passes through his consciousness like a fleeting breeze, stirring the depths of his soul.

He wonders, with a heavy heart, if you would ever grant him the chance to speak to you again, even if only in the ethereal realm of dreams. The weight of his transgressions hangs heavy upon him, a burden he bears with aching regret and remorse.

His thoughts drift to the possibility of forgiveness, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatens to engulf him. Would you, he wonders, find it in your heart to forgive him for all he had done? Could you look past the sins of his past and see the man he longs to become?

And then, in the quiet recesses of his mind, another question emerges, tentative yet hopeful: Would you meet him in another life, in another time, and love him again? The notion fills him with both trepidation and longing, a desire for redemption intertwined with the fear of repeating past mistakes.

As the King of Curses stands before the imposing statue, its silent gaze casting a solemn shadow over the shrine, he grapples with the weight of his own existence. In the hallowed stillness of the sacred space, amidst the echoes of his tumultuous thoughts, he seeks solace, a fleeting respite from the ceaseless turmoil that churns within him.

Fickle hope flickers like a distant flame in the darkness of his heart, as he silently pleads for a chance at redemption, a glimmer of forgiveness in the face of his countless transgressions. But even as he yearns for reconciliation, a bitter truth gnaws at the edges of his consciousness: he knows he will never humble himself, never stoop to beg for your mercy. A king does not bend his knees. It was all too late. And you would never hope for it from him. You knew him too well.

For the King of Curses, pride is both his armor and his downfall, a barrier that shields him from the vulnerability of human emotion, yet also isolates him in his eternal solitude. He knows he can never be with you, not in this life or any other, for curses are not meant to know the warmth of love or the tender embrace of redemption.

In the depths of his despair, he acknowledges the irreparable chasm that separates him from you, an insurmountable divide between the angelic purity of your soul and the infernal darkness that consumes his own. He resigns himself to the harsh reality of his existence: a flower in the night, destined to yearn for the unreachable glow of the moon, while knowing that his true salvation lies forever beyond his grasp, bathed in the radiant light of the distant sun.

"Sukuna..." The sound of your voice, soft and gentle, echoes in his mind, stirring something deep within him. “Sukuna….”

As Sukuna stands in the sacred confines of the shrine, grappling with the weight of his emotions, he feels the gravity of his words hanging heavy in the air like incense smoke, swirling around him in ethereal wisps. The question lingers, a delicate thread woven into the fabric of his thoughts, as he waits with bated breath for a response that may never come.

"Would you ever let me speak to you again?" His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible above the hallowed silence of the shrine. The words escape his lips like a prayer, a desperate plea for absolution in the face of his tumultuous past. "Will you, my little night flower?"

The stillness of the shrine remains unbroken, the only sound the soft echo of his own voice reverberating off the ancient stone walls. Yet, despite the absence of a tangible answer, Sukuna can't help but sense a presence, a ghostly whisper of your essence lingering in the sacred space.

Closing his eyes, Ryomen Sukuna offers a silent prayer to the heavens knowing full well that the gods would never accept the prayer of an infidel. He could care less about their judgments. Yet, in the depths of his heart, he harbors the belief that if his words were to reach anywhere, it would be in your arms, wherever you may be. In the quiet sanctuary of the shrine, surrounded by the echoes of his own longing, he clings to the fragile hope that perhaps, somewhere in the depths of eternity, you're listening, ready to grant him the solace and redemption he so desperately seeks. 

As the moon wanes overhead, casting its ethereal glow upon the shrine, Sukuna remains, allowing your memory to haunt him. If it means just one more night with you, he is willing to endure the torment of your ghostly presence. Though weary from his journey, he finds solace in the thought of being in your presence once more, even if only in his dreams.

As he kneels before you, the lilac crystal adorning the shrine gleams softly in the moonlight, casting a delicate hue upon the scene. In this moment, Ryomen Sukuna finds a semblance of peace, a fleeting respite from the turmoil of his immortal existence. Perhaps, he muses, this is all there is to be—an eternal dance between curses and prayers, between love and longing. 

When the sun rose, he let the boy have control.

Ryomen Sukuna let himself stand within his realm.

Loneliness seeping in, the night drifting away with you.

For you only belong in the wide sky, his night flower.

[mononijikayu]

happy together ─ geto suguru and gojo satoru

As you observed the intimate exchange between them, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading in your heart. Your love was palpable, radiating from their gaze and enveloping you in its comforting embrace. It was a reminder that amidst the uncertainty and challenges of life, the love shared between kindred souls could serve as a beacon of hope and solace. If there was any possibility to split a soul into three, perhaps it was born into life just for you. You were each other’s fate, come what may. That’s what you think. You know that they wouldn’t have it any other way either. Life made sense when you were happy together. And now you are. 

GENRE: Hidden Inventory Arc - Shinjuku Showdown Arc, 2006/2007 - 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Humor, Romance, Afterlife, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Character Death, Mention of Grief, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Fluff, Mild Angst, Pining, Reunion, House of Three;

masterlist

kayu's playlist, side 400;

listen: happy together by the turtles

note: i speed-wrote this because i had some time while i took a break from doing my school work. i love this one, you guys. cause they finally realized they should be a throuple!!! anyway, installment one done!!! enjoy it you guys!!! i love you <333

WAKING UP WAS QUITE AN EXPERIENCE. As consciousness flooded back into your senses, you could feel your entire body jolt with a sudden shock, gasping for air as your eyes snapped open, wide with alarm. It was as if you had been yanked back from the brink of oblivion, returning to the realm of the living from where you had lain, motionless. 

Beads of sweat dotted your temples, evidence of the intense ordeal you had just endured, while short, ragged breaths escaped your lips in quick succession, reminiscent of a runner finishing a grueling marathon. A chill ran down your spine, sending shivers rippling through your body, and you couldn't help but purse your lips as you sat in the eerie stillness that surrounded you. 

Perched on the cold, unforgiving metal benches, you made a conscious effort not to lose your balance; after all, you were already prone to clumsiness. Amidst the disorienting haze that clouded your mind, one thought echoed louder than the rest: what was happening? It was a question that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, filling you with an overwhelming sense of dread and confusion.

As your eyes slowly begin to adjust to the glaring light assaulting them, you find yourself struggling to make sense of your surroundings. Every movement you make seems to flow effortlessly, your Jujutsu uniform clinging to your form, the bright yellow hoodie swaying gently against the back of your neck with each subtle shift. Squinting against the harsh brightness, your brow furrows in a gesture of discomfort before you finally manage to lift your gaze, revealing the source of the intense illumination: those bright, beaming lights overhead. A low growl of frustration rumbles silently in your throat, but you force yourself to look away, tenderly massaging your sensitive eyes in an attempt to ease the discomfort.

Yet, as you blink and open your eyes once more, a sudden realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning. Those lights—there's something undeniably familiar about them. In fact, they feel more familiar to you than you would have ever dared to hope. Casting your gaze around the vast expanse before you, you take in the massive glass windows, the endless rows of metal benches mirroring the one you occupy. Above, the wide expanding upper floors look like a circular maze, the long white columns stretching towards the heavens. Bright signs adorned with directional arrows point the way to terminal gates, their bold letters beckoning travelers onward.

Your mouth falls slightly agape, rendered speechless by the bewildering scene unfolding before you. Thoughts whirl through your mind in a chaotic frenzy. "Huh?" you inwardly mumble to yourself, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Why am I in Okinawa again?"

As you attempted to rise to your feet, a wave of dizziness washed over you, causing the room to spin alarmingly. "Too fast," you chastised yourself inwardly, recognizing the consequence of your sudden movement. The sensation of disorientation only intensified as you took in your surroundings—an empty, eerily silent airport devoid of any signs of life. This wasn't at all how you remembered Naha Airport from your previous visit with Satoru and Suguru, accompanied by Kuroi and Riko. Back then, it had been a bustling hub of activity, teeming with excited travelers eager to explore the exotic wonders of Okinawa or reluctant city-dwellers bidding farewell to the island paradise.

Your lips pressed together in a thin line as you made your way toward the expansive window, the view beyond revealing a grounded plane sitting desolately on the tarmac, devoid of any passengers or activity. Confusion gnawed at the edges of your mind as you struggled to piece together the fragmented puzzle of your current situation. The effort only served to exacerbate the pounding ache in your head, each attempt at coherence feeling like a futile road to go down on. 

With each step towards the large window space, the weight of uncertainty pressed down upon you, adding to the throbbing ache in your head. Outside, the sight of the motionless plane sitting abandoned on the tarmac only deepened your sense of bewilderment. People would be here, no, you stopped yourself, they should be here. It was a stark contrast to the lively scenes you remembered from your previous visit, where the airport buzzed with the energy of travelers coming and going.

As you stood there, gazing out at the empty runway, a flurry of questions raced through your mind. How had you ended up here, alone in this deserted airport? Where were Satoru and Suguru? And what had happened to the vibrant atmosphere you had once experienced in Naha Airport? More importantly, what was the reason of you being here? And why are you all alone? You wouldn’t have gone here alone. Not by your own will, not at all.

Attempting to piece together the fragmented memories of your journey only served to exacerbate the pounding ache in your head. Frustration simmered beneath the surface as you struggled to make sense of the inexplicable situation unfolding before you. Your hands slides down to the depths of your uniform pockets and you gather yourself for a moment. Being frustrated wouldn’t do you good. With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the windowpane, your thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty.

In the midst of the desolation, a pang of longing surged within you, a sudden ache for Suguru's comforting presence. He had always been the anchor to your tumultuous emotions, his touch a source of solace that grounded you in reality. You could almost feel the warmth of his hand enveloping yours, offering reassurance in times of uncertainty. Suguru possessed an innate gentleness, a kindness that seemed to radiate from his very being. He had a way of easing your burdens, providing comfort and relief to the pain that lingered within you. It was as if he carried a piece of sunshine wherever he went, banishing darkness with his unwavering warmth.

As thoughts of Suguru lingered, your mind drifted to Satoru, another pillar of strength in your life. Despite his penchant for cheesy dad jokes, he had a knack for lifting spirits and bringing smiles even in the darkest of times. You could almost hear his infectious laughter echoing in the empty halls of the airport, a reminder of the joy he brought to those around him. You missed the sound of his laughter, the way it bubbled up before he could even deliver one of his infamous jokes.

With a heavy sigh, you scanned the barren surroundings, searching for any sign of life amidst the desolate emptiness that surrounded you. It felt as though you were trapped within your own cage of loneliness, yearning for the comforting presence of those who had always been there to chase away the shadows of doubt and despair.

As you stood there, adrift in the labyrinth of your own thoughts, the sudden intrusion of a voice shattered the eerie silence enveloping the abandoned airport. Its resonance seemed to reverberate through the desolate expanse of the airport lounge, punctuating the solitude with an unexpected interruption. Startled by the intrusion, you pivoted on your heels to locate its source, your senses heightened by the jarring contrast between the stillness and the sudden commotion.

There, amidst the ghostly surroundings, you caught sight of Amanai Riko racing towards you, tears tracing a glistening trail down her cheeks. Her frantic footsteps echoed off the empty walls, each stride a testament to the urgency of her approach. The sight of her tear-streaked face stirred a mixture of emotions within you, a blend of concern and bewilderment at the unexpected encounter.

"Hey, are you alright?" Riko's voice called out, trembling with emotion, as she hurried toward you. Her hands moved frantically, checking your sides, your face, your hair, as though uncertain of what to do but driven by an urgent need to ensure your well-being. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to make sense of her actions, her touch both comforting and disconcerting in equal measure. Tears welled in her eyes, her distress palpable, and without a word, you found yourself enveloped in her embrace. “You’re here, I can’t believe you’re right here. I found you!”

You could feel the warmth of her tears soaking into your Jujutsu uniform, her apologies whispered between sobs. The sight of her vulnerability stirred a myriad of emotions within you, leaving you momentarily stunned into silence. Slowly, you reciprocated her embrace, your arms encircling her as you gently brushed her hair, urging her to release her pent-up emotions. Despite your own confusion, your instinct was to offer comfort, to be a source of solace in her time of need.

At that moment, questions lingered on the tip of your tongue, but you pushed them aside, prioritizing Riko's emotional well-being over your own uncertainties. All that mattered was being there for her, providing whatever support and comfort you could offer in the face of her tears.

"I'm so sorry," Riko choked out, her words muffled against the fabric of your shirt, her voice heavy with emotion. “I’m so so sorry!”

Confusion swept over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your senses as you struggled to comprehend the depth of her distress. Yet, despite the uncertainty swirling within your mind, your instinct was to offer comfort, to provide solace in whatever way you could. With a gentle squeeze, you conveyed reassurance, a silent reminder that you were there for her, unwavering in your support.

"It's okay, Riko," you whispered softly, your voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of her tears. Each syllable carried the weight of understanding and empathy, a soothing balm to the turmoil of emotions swirling around you. "Don't worry about it. You don't ever have to apologize for anything, darling girl."

"But! But….I just!" Riko's voice wavered, interrupted by sobs that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Shhh…" You cooed, your words a comforting melody as you gently hushed her protests. A soft laugh escaped your lips, the sound echoing against the strands of her hair as you held her close. "I don't know why you're apologizing, but it's okay. I'm not mad about anything."

As Riko's sobs gradually subsided, you cast a glance over her shoulder, noting Kuroi Misato's approach with a gentle smile gracing her lips. "Hey," Kuroi greeted softly, her voice carrying a warmth that belied the complexity of emotions swirling within her.

Despite the outward display of kindness, there lingered a subtle hint of unease in Kuroi's expression, a flicker of guilt that caught your attention like a shadow in the midst of sunlight. It was a discordant note amidst the tranquility of the moment, leaving you with a sense of disquiet that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

As you pondered the significance of Kuroi's demeanor, a myriad of questions danced through your mind, each one seeking to unravel the mystery shrouding her intentions. Yet, try as you might, the elusive truth remained just beyond your grasp, leaving you to grapple with an unsettling sense of uncertainty. As Riko gradually regained her composure, you gently pulled away, your concern etched into every line of your face as you met her gaze with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

"What's going on?" you asked, your voice tinged with apprehension. You slowly straighten your posture and look between the younger girl and her guardian. “I woke up here….and you’re crying. And I just….”

With a trembling voice, Riko began to unravel the unsettling truth that had brought them to this deserted airport. She looks like she couldn’t even bear to tell you. But looking at her eyes, you realized that she was gathering the courage to say it to you. You wanted to coax it out of her, suspicion making your heart beat even faster at the anxiety. She looks at Kuroi, who gives her a soft smile and nods at her. 

"We've been here for a while, on the other side of the airport," she explained, her words carrying the weight of revelation. "It took us some time to realize, but... we're dead."

The revelation hit you with the force of a thunderclap, jolting you from the realm of the familiar into the stark reality of their circumstances. It felt as if the ground had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you reeling in a maelstrom of disbelief and confusion. Each word uttered by Riko seemed to reverberate through the empty expanse of the airport, echoing off the walls like a haunting refrain.

Your mind raced to grasp the enormity of what she had just disclosed, but comprehension eluded you like a fleeting shadow. The implications of their predicament began to sink in slowly, like pebbles dropped into the vast ocean of your consciousness. This wasn't a mere misunderstanding or a figment of their imagination; it was the chilling truth laid bare before you.

As you struggled to come to terms with the stark reality of their situation, a sense of surrealism washed over you, enveloping you in a haze of uncertainty. It was as if you had been thrust into a waking dream, where the boundaries between life and death blurred and indistinct shades of gray.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions that threatened to engulf you, a flicker of determination ignited within your soul. You knew that you couldn't afford to dwell on shock and disbelief for long; there were questions to be answered, decisions to be made, and a journey into the unknown awaiting them all. With a steel resolve, you square your shoulders and prepare to confront whatever lay ahead, drawing strength from the bond that united you with Riko and Kuroi in this surreal limbo.

"Wait, what?" you stammered, your mind reeling with the enormity of what she was saying. It wasn’t registered. Your mouth parts, trying to get the words out. But nothing comes out. 

This airport, once a bustling hub teeming with life and activity, now loomed before you as a solemn gateway to the afterlife. Its once vibrant corridors now echoed with the hollow silence of abandonment, the ghostly remnants of past travelers haunting its deserted halls. It was as if time had frozen within these walls, trapping them in a liminal space between the worlds of the living and the dead.

As the gravity of their situation settled upon you like a heavy shroud, a whirlwind of questions stormed through your mind, each one a relentless demand for answers in the face of this surreal reality. How had they ended up here? What awaited them beyond the confines of this desolate airport? And most pressing of all, what did it mean for their future?

Yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, you made a conscious choice to set aside your own uncertainties, focusing instead on providing Riko and Kuroi with the unwavering support they needed in this moment of profound uncertainty. With a steadfast resolve, you vowed to stand by their side, ready to confront whatever revelations the future held, even as you braced yourself for the unknown journey that lay ahead.

You let yourself slowly walk back to the benches.

You take a moment and you carefully sit down.

You look at the two of them as you cross your arms.

“Tell me everything you remember when you woke up.”

YOU THINK YOU SPENT QUITE WHILE REGISTERING EVERYTHING. The three of you huddled together in a somber tableau, grappling with the weight of the revelations that had reshaped your understanding of existence. There really isn't much to be done now, it seems. As the realization of your passing settles in, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by a gentle rub of the back of your head. 

The irony of finding yourself in an airport at this moment doesn't escape you; it's almost as if God has a penchant for whimsy in the afterlife. Taking a seat on one of the airport benches, you purse your lips in contemplation. You know you'll be waiting here for a while, and oddly enough, that's what you find solace in. Suguru and Satoru, together. You believe they'll be alright; those two were destined for long, fulfilling lives. At least, that's what you hope for. After all, Jujutsu sorcerers aren't typically associated with the concept of 'forever'.

In truth, for you,  the concept of death had been a familiar companion since youth—a shadow that had trailed alongside you through the tumultuous journey of your upbringing. As an orphan with no prospects and no dreams to call your own, the specter of mortality had woven itself into the fabric of your being, a constant presence as natural as drawing breath into your lungs.

It was Tsukumo Yuki who had intervened, rescuing you from the abyss of despair during her travels and delivering you into the care of Yaga-sensei. Under his guidance, you had discovered the latent ability to perceive curses, a revelation that had irrevocably altered the trajectory of your life. Even then, death had not loosened its grip on you; the path of a sorcerer was fraught with peril, a reality Yaga-sensei had emphasized with disarming candor.

Yet, buoyed by the hope of strength and the promise of a newfound purpose, you had forged ahead, driven by the belief that diligence and determination would pave the way to a brighter future. In the embrace of companionship—with Satoru, with Shoko, with Suguru—you glimpsed the elusive promise of happiness, a fragile beacon amidst the darkness of uncertainty.

Now, faced with the stark reality of your demise, you couldn't help but mourn the life you had hoped to live—a life filled with love, with laughter, with the warmth of cherished bonds. The memory of your final moments flooded back, the visceral recollection of sacrificing yourself to shield Riko from harm, a selfless act that now loomed large in the landscape of regret.

As you leaned against the cold metal frame, a heavy sigh escaped your lips, carrying with it the weight of resignation and understanding. No wonder Riko felt guilty—your sacrifice had left an indelible mark on her conscience, a burden she now bore in the wake of your shared tragedy. You harbored no blame towards Riko, not even a trace of guilt weighed upon your conscience for sacrificing yourself in an attempt to protect her. From the depths of your being, there surged a profound sense of clarity—a steadfast conviction that your actions were born out of love and selflessness, devoid of any remorse or reproach.

In that fateful moment when danger had loomed large and fate had beckoned, you had acted instinctively, driven by an innate desire to shield Riko from harm at any cost. The notion of self-preservation had paled in comparison to the unwavering commitment to her safety, a commitment that transcended mere survival.

As you reflected upon the events that had led to your demise, there was no room for regret or recrimination. You supposed that it was the Jujutsu sorcerer in you. Yaga–sensei’s voice reverberated in your head, ‘A sorcerer doesn’t live for themselves. You live for others.’

The sentiment was something you wanted to laugh at. Satoru would laugh at how ridiculous that sounded, Suguru would think that it was ridiculous but it was what it was. But deep down you know you couldn’t. You know you wouldn’t. Instead, there existed a serene acceptance—a recognition that your final act had been keeping someone innocent alive. You did your duty, you stuck to your beliefs. You died well. You died fast too–you supposed that was a bonus in itself. That Sorcerer Killer had good aim too, you think. You sighed in finality, at the acceptance that this was fate. That this was what was destined. And it was what it was.

As you grapple with the weight of your departure, a single regret pierces through the fog of your thoughts, consuming your mind with its relentless presence. It's the ache of leaving behind Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko—the three pillars of your life, the anchors that tethered you to the realm of happiness and belonging.

Yet, amid this sea of regret, it's Suguru who occupies the forefront of your mind, his memory etched into the deepest recesses of your heart. You can't shake the feeling that your absence will inflict the deepest wounds upon him, for your love for him ran as deep as the ocean, binding your souls together in an unbreakable bond.

A flashback floods your consciousness, transporting you back to a moment frozen in time—a promise exchanged between lovers, whispered with the fervent hope of a future together. But now, as the harsh reality of your demise sets in, you find yourself grappling with the bitter irony of it all, the weight of unfulfilled promises hanging heavy on your soul.

You wish—oh, how you wish—that Suguru could understand the circumstances that led to your untimely departure, that he could find solace in the knowledge that your love for him transcends the boundaries of life and death. But even as you entertain this fleeting hope, a pang of uncertainty gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, whispering doubts of forgiveness and understanding.

And then there's Satoru—the other half of your soul, the one who had captured your heart with his infectious laughter and unwavering devotion. You can't bear to think of the pain that your absence will inflict upon him, the shattered dreams and broken promises that will haunt his waking hours.

A bittersweet memory emerges from the depths of your mind—a pinky promise exchanged between friends, a solemn vow to stand by each other's side until the end of time. But now, as you stand on the precipice of eternity, you can't help but wonder if Satoru will ever forgive you for breaking that sacred oath, for leaving him behind in a world devoid of your presence.

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, a pang of guilt washes over you as you contemplate the impact of your absence on Shoko. She, too, had been an integral part of your life, a steadfast companion whose presence had brought warmth and solace in times of need. Now, as she navigates the bustling city streets alone, you can't help but feel a twinge of remorse knowing that she'll face each day without your comforting presence by her side.

You envision her, standing alone on the far-flung balcony of her dorm, the tendrils of smoke from her cigarette swirling around her like a melancholic dance. In that solitary moment, you can almost feel her loneliness echoing through the void, a stark reminder of the void you've left behind.

But even amidst the guilt and regret, you cling to a flicker of hope—that somehow, someway, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko will come to understand the circumstances that led to your departure. You wish for nothing more than their forgiveness, their understanding, their acceptance of the choices you've made.

For now, as you stand at the crossroads of eternity, you hold onto the enduring love that binds you to them—a love that transcends time and space, a love that will guide you through the darkness and into the light.

A solemn silence settles over the three of you, each lost in your own thoughts and emotions. It's Riko who breaks the silence first, her voice trembling with emotion as she struggles to articulate the enormity of their situation.

"I... I never thought... I never imagined..." Riko's words falter, her eyes brimming with tears as she looks to you for comfort and understanding. “I just….”

You reach out to her, offering a reassuring squeeze of her hand as you meet her gaze with a soft smile. "It's okay, Riko. We'll figure this out together," you assure her, your voice laced with a gentle reassurance. “We gotta stick together, you hear me?”

Kuroi steps forward, her expression trying to lift from the veil of sorrow. She smiled. "We may not have all the answers right now, but we'll face this challenge together, as a team."

You nod in agreement, grateful for the unwavering support of your friends in this moment of uncertainty. "Thank you, both of you," you say with a sincere grin. “This might be easier with the two of you with me.”

With a determined smile, you hummed, eager to lift the spirits of your small group. You stand up from your chair. "Let's not dwell on what we can't change right now," you suggest gently, your voice infused with optimism. "Instead, why don't we explore this airport together? Who knows what we might find?"

Riko's eyes brighten slightly at the suggestion, a glimmer of curiosity replacing the sadness that had clouded her features moments before. She wipes the tears away. "That sounds like a good idea," she agrees, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Kuroi nods in approval, her resolve visibly strengthening as she takes your lead. "We'll make the most of this situation," she declares with newfound determination.

“Now, let’s go! I’m craving an ice cream sundae!”

Riko laughs as she follows closely behind you. “We’re dead, we can’t eat ice cream.”

“It doesn’t matter, I want it!” You laughed back at her, but more obnoxiously. “Kuroi, what’s your favorite ice cream?”

“Oh, that’s a hard one to decide….”

As you set off together, embarking on a journey of exploration and discovery, you can't help but feel a spark of hope ignite within you. Though the road ahead may be uncertain, you take comfort in the knowledge that you're not alone—you have each other, and together, you'll find a way to navigate this strange new world.

With a sense of purpose guiding your steps, you forge ahead into the unknown, ready to face whatever challenges may come your way. And as you walk side by side, the promise of a brighter future beckons on the horizon, filling your hearts with renewed courage and determination.

You had high hopes that it’ll be just the three of you for now.

If there was a god watching you now, you whispered a wish.

You wished that those you love would live a long and happy life.

But a few months later, you stood and frowned as you stared.

Brown eyes stared at you, cheeks flustered all the way through.

“Yu Haibara, how the fu—you were supposed to grow old, idiot!”

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT THINK. That’s all you could really do here, if you were being honest. God perhaps intended purgatory as a reflection on your life. But somehow, these days, you end up thinking more about your new arrival—-Yu Haibara, and how he got here. Why was he here? You already knew why. And yet you kept pondering why. Why did he end up here so early? Why should such a boy with a life long ahead of him be here? 

In the hushed moments of contemplation, memories of Haibara's sacrifice resurfaced like ghosts haunting the corridors of your mind. You didn’t tell him about it, but you ended up thinking that he was more like you than you liked. You wished in a way, that the boy he was, had been a little bit more selfish. He didn’t have to tell you how he died — you already knew. Because he was just that kind. He was too good of a person.  

His selfless act, a final testament to his unwavering loyalty and boundless courage, lingered with poignant clarity, etching itself into the fabric of your consciousness. The image of him, standing tall and resolute in the face of danger, sacrificing himself to shield Nanami from harm, was seared into your memory like a brand, a testament to the indomitable spirit that defined him. 

Nanami Kento must have been distraught, you think. Your little Ken, as you liked to call him,  was more emotional than he let on, you like to think. To lose you both in the distance of one year, that’s a big blow — at least you like to think so. Kento had few people he liked to genuinely call friends. Even with you, he was formal. But Haibara? Haibara was his closest friend, even if he didn’t say it out loud. And now Haibara’s gone. You didn’t know what to say, at first. But Haibara just smiled at you.

As you reminisced about that conversation with Haibara, his words echoed in your mind with a poignant clarity, each syllable carrying a weight of its own. His reassurance, delivered with a grin that belied his own fears, had offered a fleeting moment of solace amidst the turmoil of grief and uncertainty. But even then, you couldn't shake the heavy burden of concern that weighed upon your heart.

“He’ll be alright,” Haibara wistfully smiled at you. “He’s a strong guy you know! He’s survived this long!”

"I hope so. But he'll miss his friend the most, you know," you murmured softly, your gaze tender as you looked upon Haibara, your voice heavy with unspoken worry.

In response, Haibara had laughed heartily, his laughter a balm to your troubled soul. "Hm, I know. But we'll see him one day. For now... he has to live. Long and happily too."

Your response had been a quiet hum of agreement, the weight of his words lingering in the air like a promise yet to be fulfilled. Together, you had watched the birds outside the airport window, their graceful flight a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts that weighed upon your mind.

And then, in a moment of unexpected candor, Haibara had turned to you, his expression earnest as he broached a topic that had long been left unspoken between you.

"You know..." he had begun hesitantly, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words to convey the depth of his emotions.

"Yeah?" you had prompted, your curiosity piqued by the sudden seriousness in his tone.

"Geto-senpai and Gojo-senpai..." Haibara had started, his gaze flickering with a mixture of sadness and regret. "They were really sad about your death."

The revelation had struck you like a blow to the chest, the weight of his words crushing in their sincerity. In that moment, you had been reminded of the far-reaching impact of your passing, the ripple effect of grief and loss that had reverberated through the lives of those you held dear. And as you grappled with the magnitude of their sorrow, a pang of guilt had seared through your heart, a painful reminder of the unintended consequences of your untimely departure.

A heavy silence descended between you and Haibara, the weight of his words hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. You felt a lump form in your throat, the guilt of causing pain to those you cared about weighing heavily on your shoulders.

"I... I didn't mean to hurt them," you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to articulate the turmoil within your heart.

Haibara's gaze softened, a gentle understanding shining in his eyes as he reached out to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "I know, senpai. None of us blame you for what happened. It's just... hard, you know? Losing someone we cared about so deeply."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a silent testament to the depth of your remorse. "I wish I could have stayed," you admitted, your voice choking with emotion. You straighten your posture. You tried to be strong.  "I wish I could have been there for them, to ease their pain and share in their sorrow."

Haibara's grip on your shoulder tightened, offering a silent reassurance in the midst of your anguish. "I know, senpai. But we can't change what's already happened. All we can do is cherish the memories we shared and hold onto the hope that one day, we'll be reunited with them again."

You nodded in agreement, finding solace in Haibara's words. "You're right," you whispered, a sense of determination settling over you. "We'll wait. Like they’re waiting.”

In those quiet moments of solitude, you found yourself reflecting on the bonds that had formed between you and your companions, forged through shared experiences and the trials of this peculiar existence. Haibara, Kuroi, Riko—each one has become an indispensable part of your makeshift family, their presence a source of strength and comfort in the face of uncertainty.

As you watched the sunset beyond the airport windows, casting a warm glow over the empty terminal, memories of happier times flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter that had once echoed through these halls, the shared meals and late-night conversations that had brought you all closer together.

But amidst the nostalgia, there lingered a palpable sense of loss—the absence of those who had left this world too soon, their laughter now just a distant echo in the recesses of your mind. You couldn't help but wonder what they would think if they could see you now, still waiting, still hoping for a chance at redemption.

Yet, despite the passage of time and the weight of your regrets, you refused to lose hope. You clung to the belief that one day, your vigil would come to an end, and you would be reunited with those you had lost. Until then, you would continue to cherish the moments you shared with your companions, finding solace in their unwavering support and the enduring bonds of friendship that bound you together.

As the last rays of sunlight faded into darkness, you found yourself filled with a renewed sense of purpose—a determination to make the most of each passing day, to live fully and love deeply, even in the midst of this endless waiting. And so, with a quiet resolve, you turned to face the challenges of the days ahead, guided by the enduring light of hope that burned brightly within your heart.

Amidst the ever-present stillness of the airport, a burst of playful energy erupted as Riko suggested the game of hide and seek. "Let's play hide and seek!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced around at the group.

You and your companions eagerly embraced the idea, craving a reprieve from the relentless monotony of waiting. With a chorus of agreement, you all scattered in different directions, eager to find the perfect hiding spot or to be the one to uncover the others' hiding places.

As the designated seeker, you closed your eyes and began counting aloud while the others hurried off to conceal themselves. The rhythmic cadence of your countdown filled the air, accompanied by the faint sounds of laughter and shuffling as your friends found their spots.

"One... two... three..." you began, the anticipation building with each passing moment. "Ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

You navigated the deserted corridors of the airport, your senses heightened as you scanned every nook and cranny for any sign of movement. Laughter echoed faintly in the distance, teasing you with hints of where your friends might be hiding.

As you rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of movement—a flicker of movement behind a row of empty seats. Your heart raced with anticipation as you quickened your pace, closing in on the source of the movement. But as you rounded the corner, your momentum carried you forward, and before you knew it, you collided with someone—someone whose familiar touch sent a jolt of recognition coursing through your veins. You thought it was Kuroi. You believed it was Kuroi.

"Gotcha!" you exclaimed triumphantly, reaching out to tag the figure on the shoulder. 

The realization hit you like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the breath from your lungs and leaving you reeling in disbelief. The warmth of the hand against yours was unmistakable—this wasn't Kuroi. Her touch was always cool, her fingers delicate and precise. But this hand... it was different. It was warm, rough with calluses that spoke of a life filled with toil and hardship.

As the truth began to sink in, your heart raced with a frantic rhythm, each beat echoing loudly in your ears as your mind struggled to process the impossible reality before you. Why was he….here? How was it possible? This soon?

Your eyes widened ever so slowly in the shock you felt as you resisted the urge to look up, to meet his gaze and confront the truth that lay between you. You knew that if you looked into his eyes, you would see the same pain and confusion mirrored there—the same turmoil that threatened to consume you whole.

“It’s you….”

The sound of his voice, so achingly familiar yet tinged with a hint of reproach, pierced through the haze of disbelief that enveloped you. You could feel his gaze boring into you, urging you to meet his eyes, to confront the truth that lay between you.

But you couldn't bring yourself to look. Not yet. Not when the wounds of his passing were still so fresh, raw with the sting of loss and longing. Instead, you bit your lip in a futile attempt to steady your trembling emotions, feeling the hot sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, his voice soft yet filled with an unspoken urgency.

You shook your head, unable to find the strength to meet his gaze, to face the reality of his absence head-on.

“After all this time, are you going to deny me seeing your face?” His words were laced with a mixture of longing and frustration, a silent plea for reconciliation that echoed in the empty space between you.

Your heart ached at the sound of his voice, the memories of your shared love flooding your mind with bittersweet intensity. Ten years—ten long years since you last saw him, since he slipped away from your grasp and into the cold embrace of eternity.

And now, here he was, standing before you with his hand outstretched, a silent reminder of everything you had lost and everything that could never be again.

But still, you couldn't bring yourself to look—to face the truth that lay before you, to acknowledge the gaping void that his absence had left in your heart.

“I can't,” you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

The air between you hung heavy with unspoken words, the weight of your shared history pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket. And as the tears continued to flow, you knew that no matter how hard you tried to deny it. He died. And so soon. He didn’t let himself grow old. He didn’t let himself live the life you wanted for him. You cried even more in the silence. 

As you looked up, your breath caught in your throat, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of Suguru standing before you. His expression softened with concern as he reached out to steady you, his touch sending waves of warmth cascading through your body. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you gazed into his eyes, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions that threatened to consume you. His purple eyes gleamed, almost so wondrously as though he was taking in the features of your face. As though he’d forgotten. He slowly smiled as tears poured down from his eyes too. His breath became shaky as his fingers rested on your chin.

In that fleeting instant, all the pain and longing you had carried with you melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and belonging. Without a word, you threw your arms around him, clinging to him as though he were the anchor that could tether you to this world. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you buried your face in his chest, the weight of your shared sorrow and joy pressing against you like a comforting embrace.

In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and the warmth of Suguru's embrace, you knew that no matter how long you waited or how far you roamed, you would always find your way back to each other. And as you stood there, lost in the embrace of the one you loved, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you—a hope that one day, you would be reunited with all those you held dear, in a place where time had no power to separate.

As the warmth of his embrace enveloped you, you couldn't help but let the floodgates of emotion burst open, tears streaming down your cheeks as you buried your face against his chest. The familiar scent of him, a mixture of earthy musk and the faint hint of his favorite cologne, washed over you, comforting you in a way that nothing else could.

“You idiot,” you cried out, your voice muffled against the warmth of his flesh. “You couldn’t even make me proud by growing old and living a whole life to tell me. You’re so annoying, you….”

But before you could finish your tirade, his laughter cut through the air, a melodic sound that echoed against your bodies and filled the empty space between you. It was a laugh filled with joy, unbridled and free, and for a fleeting moment, you couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at the happiness he exuded.

“I didn’t want to live a whole life if you weren’t going to be in it,” he confessed, his voice soft yet resolute. “There was nothing to smile about.”

His words hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the depth of his love for you, even in the face of eternity. And as you stood there, locked in each other's embrace, you knew that no matter what trials may come, no matter how much time may pass, the bond you shared with Suguru would endure—a beacon of hope in the darkness that now enveloped your soul.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within you, a sense of peace washed over your weary soul. You realized that even in death, your love for each other remained as steadfast as ever, an unbreakable thread binding your hearts together for all eternity.

"I missed you," you whispered, your voice barely a breath against his chest.

"I missed you too," he replied, his arms tightening around you in a silent promise never to let go again.

For a timeless moment, you simply stood there, lost in the embrace of the one you thought you had lost forever. The weight of the years spent apart melted away, leaving only the warmth of his love to fill the void in your heart.

But as the realization of your reunion settled in, a new sense of purpose stirred within you. You knew that you couldn't stay in this airport forever, trapped in a limbo of waiting and longing. There were others out there, waiting for you, longing to be reunited just as you had been.

You pulled away from Suguru's embrace, meeting his gaze with a determined glint in your eyes. "We can't stay here," you said firmly. "There are others who’d want to see you.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring your determination. "You're right," he said. "We'll find a way. Together. But….”

You looked at him as he smiled at you, his height bearing down upon you. 

“Let me kiss you.” He whispers to you. “Before you introduce me to the others.”

You felt a soft flutter in your chest at his words, a mixture of longing and anticipation coursing through your veins. Despite the weight of the years that had passed, the desire to feel his lips against yours burned fiercely within you.

Without a word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you and Suguru. His lips met yours in a tender embrace, a silent exchange of love and longing that transcended the boundaries of time and space. In that fleeting moment, all the pain and sorrow of the past faded into insignificance, replaced by the overwhelming warmth of his touch.

As you pulled away, you met Suguru's gaze, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered softly, his voice barely a breath against your lips.

Your heart flutters at his words. 

He grins at you, wholeheartedly.

You admit, your heart is a little bit full.

But you knew it wasn’t as full as yet.

Satoru, you wanted to see Satoru too.

IT WAS DECEMBER 24TH 2018 WHEN GOJO SATORU ARRIVED AT THE AIRPORT. As you and Suguru stood by the airport benches, your embrace providing a comforting anchor amidst the chaos of the bustling terminal, a sense of tranquility settled over you. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your own private sanctuary.

But amidst this moment of serenity, a movement caught your eye, drawing your attention to a familiar figure nearby. There, amidst the deserted terminal, Satoru lay sleeping, his form peaceful and serene against the backdrop of the bustling airport.

You exchanged a glance with Suguru, a silent communication passing between you as you both recognized the significance of the moment. It was an unexpected reunion, one that held the promise of both joy and uncertainty.

For a moment, you simply stood there, lost in the quiet beauty of the scene before you. The terminal faded into the background, leaving only Satoru and the two of you in a timeless embrace. As you watched Satoru sleep, a rush of emotions swept over you, mingling with the tender affection you felt for him. It was a moment of unexpected beauty, a reminder of the enduring bond that connected the three of you, even across the vast expanse of time and space.

"He didn't even wait a year after you," you remarked to Suguru, a hint of annoyance creeping into your voice as you crossed your arms. "Nanami Ken-Ken, I understand. But the two of you?"

Suguru's snort was barely audible, but the wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips spoke volumes. Memories flooded his mind as he remembered the last time Nanami had made an unexpected appearance in the airport. He couldn't help but find amusement in the way you had reacted then – your expression a mix of shock and disappointment that was, in his eyes, utterly endearing.

In that moment, Suguru couldn't help but recall just how adorable you looked when you expressed such disappointment. He knew you well enough to recognize that pout – the one that often graced your lips when things didn't go as planned, or when someone didn't meet your expectations. It was a trait of yours that Satoru, too, was likely familiar with.

But Suguru understood the underlying reason behind your tendency to pout and lecture. It wasn't borne out of mere petulance or frustration; rather, it stemmed from a deep-seated care and concern for those around you. You had a heart that overflowed with love and compassion, and you wanted nothing more than for everyone to live longer, happier lives – even if it meant lecturing them endlessly or wearing that adorable pout.

It was this caring nature of yours that Suguru found so utterly captivating, and it was a trait that had endeared you to him even more over the years. As he looked at you now, lost in your thoughts, he couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for you – a silent acknowledgment of the depth of your love and the strength of your character.

As you stood in the airport, a familiar figure caught your eye. It was Nanami, standing there in the terminal, his presence a shocking revelation. Disbelief washed over you, mingled with a sense of incredulity. How could he be here after all this time? He was supposed to be alive and well. If anyone was going to outlive them all now, it would be Nanami. Suguru had said that he had left that life behind, after you and Haibara passed away. But to have seen him there, as young as you met him, rubbing the back of his head as you

Without a second thought, you rushed over to him, your voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of annoyance. "Nanami? What are you doing here?" you demanded, unable to mask the surprise in your tone. "You... you shouldn't be here. You're supposed to be..."

“Well, I’m here.” Nanami Kento replied to you, sighing, crossing his arms. He was as much a teenager as you remember him to be. “I’m dead, senpai.”

“You….”

But before you could finish your sentence, you launched into a tirade, peppering Nanami with questions and admonishments. "You can't just waltz into the airport like nothing happened!" you exclaimed, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "Do you have any idea how bad this is? Suguru said you left Jujutsu! Why did you come back, you idiot?”

“......It’s not like I have anything to do.”

“Kento, is that you?” Yu Haibara’s mouth went agape as he stood before you all, looking at his closest friend. “You still look the same! Emo and all!”

Nanami frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Now, now,” Suguru tries to mitigate.

“Wait, I’m not done lecturing!” You impede, your brows furrowing. You sighed, lowering your head to your palm. “Let me think for a second, I’m overstimulating.”

Haibara grinned. “You can do it, senpai!”

“That’s not helping.” Nanami whispers.

“Shhhhhhhhh!” You put your index finger on your lip, glaring at him. “I’m not done!”

Your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right ones, emotions swirling within you like a storm. But despite your agitation, Nanami Kento remained silent, his expression unreadable as he listened to your impassioned speech. He knew you weren’t going to stop. You were more the parent than Geto Suguru, after all.

At the sight of your antics, Suguru couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing softly through the terminal. "Leave it to you to give him a proper scolding, even after he's dead," he remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“You’re not out of the water either!”

"You make it seem like it was a choice for us to go down that route," Suguru replied, his tone tinged with resignation. It was a reminder of the circumstances that had led them here, to this peculiar purgatory where time seemed to stand still. “It is fate, whatever happened.”

"It is a choice," you insisted, leaning against Suguru's side as you settled down beside him on the bench. "I wanted to see you with white hair."

Suguru chuckled, his smile widening as he reached over to playfully poke at Satoru's hair. "You already see so much of that on Satoru," he remarked teasingly.

You swatted Suguru's hand away with a mock glare. "Hey, he might develop a bald spot with that!" you protested, unable to suppress a grin.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "He's already in the afterlife, he's gonna be fine," he reassured you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "We're not even sure if he's dead, Suguru! His soul is a bit glitchy from here!" you retorted back to your lover.

Suguru met your gaze with a playful smirk. "You can see souls?" he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"I'm dead, so obviously, I do!" you shot back, unable to resist a jab back at him. 

Suguru's smirk widened into a grin as he considered your words. "What if we return him back to life and he's bald?" he mused, the corners of his lips twitching with suppressed laughter.

“That’s not funny, Suguru!”

Just as you and Suguru continued to trade playful banter, Satoru stirred from his slumber, blinking groggily as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in the sight of you and Suguru sitting beside him, the playful atmosphere of your conversation washing over him. You waved at him, happily greeting him. He couldn’t believe it. How he was seeing you greet him in that warm manner, as you always have when you were alive.

Satoru's initial disbelief gradually gave way to a sense of wonder as he took in the sight of you waving at him, a warm smile gracing your lips. It was a sight he had longed to see for years, a memory that he had held onto tightly even as the years stretched on in this strange limbo.

With a mixture of awe and gratitude, Satoru returned your wave, his heart swelling with emotion at the sight of you. It felt surreal, almost dreamlike, to be greeted by you in such a familiar manner, as if no time had passed at all.

For a moment, he allowed himself to revel in the warmth of your presence, the memory of your smile etched into his mind like a cherished treasure. It was a moment of pure bliss amidst the uncertainty of their existence in this surreal afterlife, a reminder of the enduring bond that connected them across the boundaries of life and death.

"Yo," Suguru greeted Satoru casually, a grin spreading across his face.

Satoru's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief as he processed the unexpected reunion. "This is freaking awful," he muttered, his words tinged with a mixture of incredulity and bemusement.

Geto pouted exaggeratedly, feigning offense at Satoru's response. "Hey, that's rude," he protested with mock indignation. “I can’t believe you greet the love of my life warmly but you greet me so cruelly.”

You let your tongue out at Suguru. “I’m his best friend, of course, bangs!”

He pinches your cheek as you squeal “You’re acting so cheekily again.”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "I told my students that when they die, they'll be alone," he explained, his tone tinged with a hint of resignation. "So I'm hoping this is just some illusion."

You couldn't help but laugh at Satoru's melodramatic proclamation, shaking your head in amusement. It was a clearly playful jab, one that you had not been able to say to him in such a long time. "That’s actually such a loser statement, Satoru," you teased, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’ve gotten this lame over the years, Gojo–sensei?”

“I’m Satoru to you, thank you very much,” The blue eyed sorcerer pouts at you, crossing his arms. Though he had to admit, he liked the way you said Gojo–sensei. “And Yaga–sensei was the one who said it to me! Blame him, not me!”

As Satoru sat there, basking in the warmth of your presence, a wave of pure contentment washed over him, enveloping him in a sense of peace that he hadn't felt in years. The sound of your laughter was music to his ears. It was a harmony that he had been waiting to hear for a decade since you’ve passed. It was a feeling he struggled to put into words, a profound sense of happiness that seemed to resonate deep within his soul.

In that moment, surrounded by the familiar faces of you and Suguru, Satoru couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the opportunity to see you again. He had missed you more than words could express, longing for the warmth of your smile and the comfort of your presence during the long years of solitude in this airport purgatory.

Even as he grappled with the knowledge that he could never truly express his romantic feelings for you, Satoru found solace in the simple joy of being near you once more. For him, this moment was a glimpse of paradise, a fleeting taste of happiness that he would treasure for eternity.

In your presence, Satoru felt a sense of completeness that he had never known before, a feeling that transcended the boundaries of life and death. You were his paradise, his beacon of light in the darkness of this strange afterlife, and for that, he would be forever grateful.

As he sat there, savoring the precious moments with you, Satoru couldn't help but reflect on how his ten years in this limbo had led him to this beautiful reunion. Despite the uncertainties and challenges he had faced during his time here, none of it seemed to matter in comparison to the overwhelming joy of being with you once again.

He thought about all the times he had yearned to see your face, to hear your laughter, to feel the warmth of your touch. And now, as he sat beside you, surrounded by the gentle hum of the airport and the comforting presence of his friends, Satoru realized that this was where he truly belonged.

In your company, Satoru found a sense of peace and happiness that he had never known before. You were his anchor in this strange world, his guiding light through the darkness of uncertainty. And even though he could never express the depth of his feelings for you, he took comfort in the knowledge that he was with you, sharing this moment of bliss together. As the weight of his past burdens lifted from his shoulders, Satoru smiled, his heart overflowing with    love and gratitude. For in this moment, surrounded by the ones he cherished most, he knew that he was home.

“Does he know?” You asked Satoru, looking at him with a soft tone. 

He looked at you with his blue eyes, his glasses lowering. “Who?”

“That boy, you’ve been taking care of.” You whisper back to him. 

“How'd you know about him?” 

“I met his father around here—”

"Who cares?" Geto's voice cut through the silence, breaking the tension with a note of indifference. “He killed you.”

"I know" you retorted back, your tone gentle yet firm. "But he deserves to know about his dad too, you know. That boy….family ties run deep, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

With a thoughtful nod, Satoru left the topic hanging in the air, shifting the focus to more pressing matters. "I've left it with Shoko to handle," he added, his tone indicating a sense of finality. 

“We’re not even sure if you’re dead yet.” You whisper back to him, your hand resting on his. “You’ll be able to tell him.”

Satoru didn’t know how to tell you.

But you looked so beautiful to him.

He didn’t want to leave you here.

He wanted to stay with you and Suguru.

He wanted to be happy here, together.

“How was fighting Sukuna?” Suguru asked him, changing the topic.

"He was strong," Satoru admitted, his voice tinged with respect. "Even though he wasn't giving his all."

Suguru nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful as he considered Satoru's words. "It must have been quite the battle," he remarked, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and curiosity.

Satoru's lips curled into a wry smile, his demeanor surprisingly casual given the intensity of the confrontation. "It was exhilarating," he admitted, his voice carrying a note of genuine enjoyment. "But I can't help but feel a twinge of pity for Sukuna. He didn't bring his full strength to the table."

You couldn't help but laugh at Satoru's nonchalant attitude, leaning affectionately against him as you basked in his presence. His scent enveloped you, a comforting reminder of the bond you shared. "Only the strongest would say something like that," you remarked fondly, your eyes sparkling with admiration. "As expected of you."

Geto's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of jealousy briefly clouding his expression as he processed Satoru's words. "That's what sets him apart," he acknowledged quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of envy. "But if you're content with the outcome, then perhaps that's all that truly matters."

Satoru's grin widened at Geto's response, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "I suppose I would have been more satisfied if you were there to spur me on," he teased, his tone laced with sincerity. He gently looks at Suguru and then at you. “It would have made me feel a little bit more at ease.”

“Don’t you mean, less cocky?” Suguru teased him back but Satoru just laughed.

You take a moment to express your heartfelt gratitude to Satoru, your voice filled with genuine emotion as you speak. "I'm proud of you, Satoru," you say, your words carrying the weight of years of admiration and affection. "After all you've done, after all you've been through... I'm just so happy to see you again, to be together with you and Suguru."

As you gaze at Satoru, a sense of completeness washes over you, the weight of years of separation lifting from your shoulders. "You've brought so much light into my life," you continue, your voice soft but filled with conviction. "My heart feels whole again, thanks to you."

“South or north,” Satoru says, after a moment of silence. “Where do you think I should go?”

Satoru's question lingered in the air like a heavy fog, casting a veil of uncertainty over the moment. You and Suguru exchanged a meaningful glance, both understanding the weight of Satoru's decision. Going south meant embracing the reunion, journeying together towards an uncertain but hopeful future. Going north meant bidding farewell once again, facing the prospect of separation with stoic resolve.

"Moving south," you begin, your gaze drifting towards the direction of the plane resting on the tarmac. You turn back to Satoru, a smile playing on your lips, though this one carries a hint of somberness. "Means you'll stay as you are."

Satoru takes in your words, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs their implications. Leaning against the airport bench, he looks at you and Suguru, the two people who make up his world, with a sense of resolve. "Here," he breathes out, his voice tinged with determination. "True to myself."

Suguru nods in understanding, his gaze shifting between you and Satoru. "But to go north…," he begins, his tone gentle yet firm. "You'll discover a new part of yourself. Another you."

Satoru's expression tightens slightly, the weight of his decision bearing down on him. "But without you," he adds, his voice heavy with unspoken regret. It's a realization he never wanted to voice, but one he knows he must confront. He isn't truly dead, and he can feel it as much as you can.

Your eyes soften as you meet Satoru's gaze, your palm instinctively resting on top of his hand in a gesture of comfort. "Just for now," you assure him, your voice filled with warmth and understanding. "It's not forever."

"We'll wait for you, until the next flight," Suguru chimes in, his grin conveying unwavering strength for the blue eyed sorcerer. Together, the three of you stand at the crossroads of possibility, each prepared to face the future with courage and determination, no matter which path Satoru chooses. “Even if everyone goes ahead, we’ll be here. Waiting for you.”

Satoru's eyes soften as he stands, his gaze shifting towards the north. With a determined nod, he takes a step forward, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of emotion that transcends words. Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss on your hair, a silent gesture of gratitude and affection for all that you mean to him.

Satoru's warm smile illuminated his features as he turned to Suguru, a silent expression of gratitude and affection passing between them. With gentle tenderness, he leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on Suguru's cheek, a simple yet profound gesture of love and reassurance.

Suguru's eyes met Satoru's, a softness reflecting in their depths as they exchanged a silent conversation. It was a moment of quiet understanding, a wordless exchange that spoke volumes of their deep bond and unwavering commitment to each other.

As you observed the intimate exchange between them, you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading in your heart. Your love was palpable, radiating from their gaze and enveloping you in its comforting embrace. It was a reminder that amidst the uncertainty and challenges of life, the love shared between kindred souls could serve as a beacon of hope and solace. If there was any possibility to split a soul into three, perhaps it was born into life just for you. You were each other’s fate, come what may. That’s what you think. You know that they wouldn’t have it any other way either. Life made sense when you were happy together. And now you are. 

In that moment, as you looked at them and they looked back at you, you felt a profound sense of reassurance. Their eyes held the promise of a brighter tomorrow, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of love. It was as if they were whispering to you with the windows of their souls, assuring you that everything would be alright, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

As Satoru straightens, his resolve firm and his heart heavy with the weight of his decision, he meets your gaze one last time. In that fleeting moment, you share a silent understanding, a mutual promise to await his return and embrace whatever the future may hold. Suguru wraps his arms around you, grinning at Satoru. 

With one final glance at the two of you. You urge him forward, your eyes swimming with a watery glaze. He smiles at you and whispers to you, to Suguru – ‘I love you’;

‘I know.’ Both you and Suguru whisper back.

As Gojo Satoru takes a deep breath, his gaze fixed towards the north, a sense of resolve washes over him. He knows not what awaits him on the path ahead, but he steps forward with unwavering courage and determination. The road may be shrouded in uncertainty, but he finds solace in the knowledge that the bonds of love, forged over years of companionship and camaraderie, will serve as his guiding light.

You and Suguru stand by, silent witnesses to Satoru's journey, your presence a source of strength and support. Though the time for your reunion may not yet have come, Satoru carries your wishes in his heart as he ventures forth into the unknown. He is determined to fulfill your desire for him to live a long and happy life, to carry on in your memory and honor your legacy.

But there are tasks still left unfinished, promises yet to be fulfilled. Satoru's thoughts turn to the future, to the responsibilities that await him. He must see to it that your final wishes are carried out, that you and Suguru find peace together. He must be there for Shoko, for Megumi, for his students who look up to him with admiration and respect. They still need him, relying on his guidance and wisdom to navigate the trials that lie ahead.

With each step he takes, Satoru embraces the uncertainty of the journey, knowing that with courage and determination, he will find his way home. And though the road may be long and fraught with challenges, he walks it with the assurance that love will light the way, leading him back to the warmth and comfort of your embrace, one day. But not yet. For now, he walks forward, his heart filled with hope and his spirit fortified by the knowledge that you and Suguru will always be with him, guiding him home.

It may take some time. 

He’d be away from you.

But he knows he’ll return.

Three of you, together.

You’ll be happy together.