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20forty9 · 17 days

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I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter VI - Smiling At The Ground

Summary : Maheas is getting irritated from his lack of progress, meanwhile Venick is a natural at whatever she picks up in her hands. This time, he pushes things too far. A new player joins the game in your life! You find yourself getting attached to him very quickly. You share a moment of tenderness with Nanami and Haibara. Meanwhile, Gojo is haunted by nightmares.

Word Count : 7.8k

Contains : Vague representations/allusions of sexual abuse, disturbing imagery (?), gross scenes (descriptive vomiting), etc. Let me know if I missed anything

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Nanami Kento/Reader, Yu Haibara/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : Vomiting will become more of a theme throughout the story, sorry LMFAO. Thanks Ethel Cain and Elita for that I guess. Also, good golly gee a quote that isn’t inherently about curiousity?? Fourty are you feeling alright???? Also I’m not a swordmaster so I apologize for any inaccuracies on my uh. sword swinging or whatchamacallit. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I put sweat and tears into this chapter. Sorry it's a bit late! I had planned to post it Friday or yesterday but half the chapter got suddenly deleted out of nowhere so I had to rewrite it from my memory and notes.

All bleeding eventually stops. ~ Jeffrey M. Goller M.D.

More time passes by for the spirit, Maheas and Venick without much excitement. Days seem to blur into one, the repetitive schedule rarely being interrupted ever since the rumours about defectors turned out to be true. Security around the area became more tight, and the ever watchful eye of Suliman never truly disappeared; to avoid punishment, the spirit continued the training of the two kids without any delay.

It notices that they’re both improving their fighting capabilities quite well for such a short period of time – Venick especially. She has a natural aptitude for it, nearly immediately adapting to whatever weapon is given to her. Whether it can be attributed to her sheer will or the possibility of a technique, the spirit must admit she is talented. Though, even throughout all of this, her beloved bow is still her favourite weapon of choice. She doesn’t use it nearly as much as before, but it always lays in the grass with the rest of their belongings, not too far away from where they train.

However, Maheas is slower to adjust to different weapons and scenarios. And ever since he was able to land that blow on the spirit that particular night, he hasn’t been able to do it since then.

And unfortunately, he’s too aware of this fact. When he can’t get the weapon or scenario down correctly within the first hour, he considers it to be a complete failure, and gets incredibly irritated, then moves onto something else. Inevitably, the cycle continues, and the spirit notices that Maheas is stuck in a constant loop of anger and irritability.

It all comes to a breaking point on a sunny day – one of the last overbearingly warm days that fall has to offer before the refreshing cool permanently sets in for the upcoming months. The spirit is sweating profusely from having both kids attack it at once; an exercise for them to learn how to work together as a team instead of individually.

Venick and Maheas are both using a weapon neither of them have ever tried, but of course Venick is an absolute natural at using the katana, however the latter struggles to hold it properly. As Maheas brings his arms down to swing his weapon down, his grip on the handle wavers slightly, making it slip out of his hands and drop on the ground pathetically. The spirit notices, immediately moving out of the way to dodge the rest of his failed attack, quickly taking him by the arm and twisting it behind his back, pressing a knee against it and sending him into the ground face-first.

Dust and dirt kick up around them from the impact, but before either of them can catch their breath, Venick runs up from behind and tries to land a blow behind the spirit’s back. With ease, it rolls out of the way and watches as the young girl’s eyes widen, the katana still held high as it now targets Maheas. Her mouth opens widely in exclamation, her lips forming his name, and thankfully, his reaction time is fast enough for him to move his head by an inch right as the blade pierces into the grass, right next to his ear.

Both of them exhale in relief before Maheas suddenly kicks Venick in the stomach, making her drop down breathlessly on the ground next to him. He shouts obscenities, face going red with rage, raising his fists to punch her repeatedly like a madman. The spirit’s eyes widen, and it moves swiftly, arms wrapping around Maheas’ biceps and pulling him away from the poor girl. He kicks and flails around, going as far as to bite its right arm until his canines puncture its skin, drops of blood pooling and smearing across his lips and teeth.

Suliman’s men rush over to control the situation, one of them pulling Venick away from the spirit and Maheas as the others try to calm the young boy down.

“That’s enough!” One of them says, firmly grabbing him by the cheeks to make him look them in their cold eyes. “What are you doing?!”

Two other men pull the spirit away from the boy, each of them holding him by his arms as he continues thrashing against them.

“I’m so sick of this! Why can’t this fucking work?!” He cries, tears of indignation running down his cheeks. “I can’t get anywhere like this!”

He’s obsessed, the spirit thinks to itself. Nobody can learn so many different strategies in such a short span of time, Venick is just simply blessed – or cursed, depending on how someone views it. If anything, Maheas is still learning quickly; just not as quickly as he would like to.

Its thought process is interrupted by the familiar deep, royal colours of Suliman’s favourite robes appearing in the peripheral of its sight. Turning its head to look at her, she approaches the group with a frown donned on her face. Her cold, calculating eyes take in the scene before her, and the spirit ponders if this is the most emotion it has seen from her since it got here.

“What is going on here?” She asks them, her gaze locking onto Maheas, who instantly collects himself, straightening his back as he notices her attention on him. He can’t exactly meet her eyes, the look on his face bashful as he looks down at his feet.

“...I got angry, Madame,” he admits. With a wave of her hand, the two men holding his arms back let go, taking a step back as she walks over to the young boy. “And I took it out on Venick.”

“Dear boy, why would you do that?” Suliman scolds him lightly, the look on her face not quite replicating anger, but trying to. “Look at her, the poor girl is terrified.”

Admittedly, Venick is scared. She presses herself closer to the man who pulled her away, but as the spirit approaches her to offer some semblance of comfort, she launches herself into its arms.

Maheas’ eyes become slits as he glares at the girl, feeling the hot rage boil underneath his skin all over again. He clenches his fists, trying to keep his temperament under wraps. A snap of Suliman’s fingers brings his attention back to her.

“Answer me, why are you so angry?” She asks him once more.

“I– I’m not improving fast enough,” he replies, looking regretful. “But– but Venick just has to be perfect and everything! It’s so annoying! I hate her!”

He must be so used to getting everything handed to him on a silver platter, because no boy of his age should be acting that way or throwing a tantrum like this. And like always, Suliman gently places her hands down on his shoulders, her thumb rubbing comforting circles into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Like always, she’ll comfort him with her sugar-sweet words in that motherly way she does.

“I know, Maheas. You’re a failure,” she says. The spirit’s eyes widen slightly – it didn’t expect that. That crosses the line from being passive-aggressively disappointed into being genuinely cruel. “I’m truly disheartened by this.”

“Madame…?” The boy’s face becomes crestfallen, eyes glossy with unshed tears, skin becoming sickeningly pale. His lips press tightly together, chin trembling.

“But I can shape you into becoming something truly marvellous,” she continues, a small smile spreading across her painted lips. “Something people will fear. But for that, you have to work hard every second of the day.”

He looks at her hesitantly, but manages to muster a weak grin of his own. “...I– I won’t let you down.”

“No, you won’t,” Suliman says, her face immediately dropping to a neutral, far-away stare as she releases her hold on him, walking over to the spirit.

“Come with me,” she completely disregards the young girl still clinging to it. “We need to discuss some things.”

The spirit gives one last pat to Venick’s back, ushering her towards the man who had initially pulled her away from the scene earlier before walking away with the shaman. She walks it down along the gardens until they are a fair distance away from anyone who could listen in to their conversation.

“You’re not pushing him hard enough,” she starts as soon as they’re out of earshot. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?”

The spirit immediately shakes its head. Of course not.

“Then, tell me why you have had no success in making him use his abilities?”

“ Because that’s not the focus of their training. They have to learn how to work together and learn how to handle different weapons, ” it signs back. The sign language book that Suliman had given it had, unfortunately , proven to be incredibly useful. “If they want to get any further, that is how they will grow stronger.”

“I’m telling you now to change it. If I don’t see an improvement within the next week, I’m putting you back in that room,” she threatens, subtle glare hardening. The thought of being put back between those four white walls makes the spirit stiffen up. “You’re weak, you’re too afraid to push him any further. Don’t hold back. He needs to learn somehow.”

“ If we push him too far and too quickly, it could kill him. He’s still young.”

“He’s more resilient than you give him credit for, spirit,” Suliman’s eyes drift to where the two of them came from, in Maheas’ direction. “I’ve changed my mind. If I don’t see any changes within the next three days, I’ll put you back there.”

With that last warning, she shoos it away to go back to the kids, leaving her in the garden.

The spirit takes heed, a constant frown pulling at its face the following day as Venick and Maheas approach it with their things in tow. The girl keeps a fair distance away from the latter, anxiously looking over at him every five seconds. As soon as they put their belongings down on the grass, they hear a quick snap followed by a bright flicker of light as cyan flames approach them at rapid speeds. With quick thinking, Maheas and Venick dodge the attack by jumping in opposite directions, rolling down on the ground before getting back up and staring at the spirit, baffled.

“What the hell was that for?!” Maheas exclaims, raising his katana up.

“ Train, hard, ” the spirit signs back simply, knowing that both of the kids are just starting to learn sign language in their other classes.

“At least give us a warning!” Venick says, also raising her matching weapon in her arms.

Usually, the spirit would use its polearm so that the fighting could be more balanced, but Suliman’s threat nags away at the back of its mind — it refuses to go back into that room, no matter what. With another fast flick of its hands, more fire spews from its fingertips, targeting both of the kids. They have to evade the attack again, unused to being on defence.

“How are we supposed to fight against fire with swords ? ” Venick asks Maheas, bringing the blade up as a guise of protection.

“I don’t know…” Maheas’ anxious eyes are locked on the spirit, who stares back at them emotionlessly. “We just have to keep fighting.”

They prepare themselves to pounce, both of them launching at it at the same time, and the spirit easily sidesteps them, a wave of fire gusting around them all, throwing Venick and Maheas back without the flames touching them – just enough to feel the heat biting at their skin.

“ You have to synchronize together, or else I’ll be able to kick you back at the same time,” it signs to them. “ Get back up. ”

Maheas gets back up first, the frown on his face deepening. His chest puffs out, spreading his feet apart as he clenches his jaw so hard that a vein bulges in his neck. His eyes are wide and gaze unwavering as he rushes forward, the grip on his katana tight. He slashes at the spirit, sending it staggering backwards from the shock. He swings again, blade continuing to cut into the air haphazardly until it catches on the skin of the spirit, who suddenly feels hesitant to fight back. However, Maheas continues to attack it.

“Come on, fight back! Give me your all!” He says, and as the spirit’s eyes focus on his mouth to lip-read, that distracts it long enough for Maheas to bring out his katana’s blade down onto the arm of the spirit, imbedding itself into the meat of its forearm.

The only reason why its arm doesn’t end up completely chopped off is because he doesn’t put an incredible amount of strength into the blow, but out of instinct, the spirit rears back its other arm, harshly snapping its fingers to unleash a powerful blow straight at Maheas, violently throwing him backwards and rolling onto the ground, his body hiding behind a thick veil of steam.

Oh, fuck.

It immediately runs over to his crumpled form, waving the steam away to look at the damage. A large burn bubbles along the entirety of Maheas’ left forearm and neck, the skin red and raw. He clenches his teeth, and as the spirit gathers the young boy into its arms to check over any other damage, it feels him vibrate underneath its palms – it realizes he’s screaming in pain through his clenched teeth. Maheas clutches his arm in agony, foot stomping on the ground aggressively to distract himself from the pain.

Completely focused on tending to the injured boy, the spirit completely forgets about Venick, who had been disregarded when Maheas tried to attack it. It isn’t until it feels a large slash against its back, so utterly excruciating that it immediately lets go of Maheas from the shock, feeling slash after intense slash against its back. It presses a foot against the ground, launching itself out of the way before another attack can hit it.

Weakly looking back, its eyes lock onto an enraged Venick – a long whip made of pure cursed energy held tightly in her hand, knuckles turning white from her grip around the handle.

“Get away from him!” She exclaims, preparing to rear the weapon back once more.

The spirit raises its arms, hands splayed out in front of it to show it wasn’t going to hurt him. The commotion attracts the men standing guard near the greenhouse, one of them followed by Suliman.

Her eyes actually widen as they land on the young girl, then move onto the injured boy until she locks eyes with the spirit, whose arms wrap around itself tightly to let its hands grasp at its back, trying to relieve the pain.

“You did it…” Suliman mutters as she looks at Venick. The second the raven-haired girl realizes all focus is on her, the whip dissipates into nothing as she seems to retreat in on herself. “Girl, you’ve done it.”

“D– done what? Did I do something wrong?” She stutters, hands coming up to her chest to curl in further.

“No, not at all, dear girl,” the platinum blonde replies, the smile on her face reaching the tip of her ears.

Suliman walks over to her, a hand coming up to delicately stroke her hair. The spirit feels disgusted seeing the sickly-sweet affection in the older woman’s eyes.

“You’ve just discovered your curse technique, darling.”

As Suliman continues doting on Venick, the spirit’s eyes drift over to Maheas, who looks at the two from his spot on the ground, still clutching at his arm, with pure hatred in his glare.

If looks could kill, Venick would be a dead girl standing.

You're woken up by your phone buzzing underneath your pillow, violently vibrating against the sheets. The skin of your arms is uncomfortably itchy, having forgotten to take off your bandages the previous night before you passed out in bed. Soundlessly grumbling to yourself, you squint your eyes as you flip the phone open, staring back at the screen. It’s a Saturday, who the hell is waking you up at the ungodly hour of…

Oh. One in the afternoon.

Not so ungodly, after all.

Yaga’s name greets you on the screen, followed by a sunglasses emoji.

- Are you busy tosda [Sent 12:47pm] - *Today [Sent 12:48pm] - ? [Sent 12:49pm]

[One missed call from Yaga.] [1:03pm]

Your fingers move lazily across the small keyboard, the sleep in your eyes still clouding your vision.

- No :P Why

It only takes a few minutes until your door suddenly swings open – you’re certain you locked that last night, by the way – revealing Yaga in his usual workout clothes, minus his sunglasses.

“ Good, you’re up, ” he signs, hands going to his hips.

You don't bother signing in return, simply waving him off and shoving your face back into the pillow. You feel the floor shake as heavy stomps cross the floorboards until the bright afternoon sunlight hits your eyes again, the pillow held high above the teacher’s head as he holds it out of your reach.

“ Nooo…” you mouth, trying to give your best puppy eyes to Yaga.

“I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

“ Can’t this wait? ” You sign, hands moving slowly from how tired you are as you squint at him.

“You’ve been in bed long enough,” he chastises you. He then proceeds to wrap the duvet around you, effectively cocooning you, before he grabs your legs and drags you out of bed.

Your reaction is instantaneous – you claw at the ground, trying to thrash your body back and forth, but all you look like is a dying worm on the pavement when the sun finally hits after a long rainstorm. You try slapping at Yaga’s hands but can’t even manage to reach them, and you try one last ditch effort to escape which proves to be fruitless.

“Nothing you do will make me let go,” Yaga turns his head to address you, mirth swirling in his eyes.

Exasperated, you sigh out deeply and completely let your body go slack as the teacher continues to drag you outside of your dorm room and down the hall. As you walk past the communal kitchen, you feel dread run through your body as you realize there are people already in there.

“Good morning, sen–” Nanami and Haibara’s mouths both close shut as they look at the scene in front of them. The blonde has a cup of coffee held in his hand, halfway up to his mouth but his body is frozen as his lips subtly quirk up. Haibara is sitting at the table with a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, a shocked look on his face.

You look back at them in disdain as Yaga greets them normally, as if he doesn’t have a person wrapped in a duvet-burrito.

“Um, w– what’s going on there?” Haibara asks, tilting his head quizzically, but he looks one step away from blowing up into laughter.

“ S.O.S, S.O.S ,” you sign repeatedly, eyes wide as you give them a terrified expression.

“Ignore them,” is all Yaga says.

“ I’m being K.I.D.N.A.P.P.E.D,” you continue to look at them desperately, going as far as to mouth the words.

“They’re a drama queen, did I forget to mention?”

Yaga is about to continue trudging forward but is met with the doorway being blocked by three familiar bodies. You cringe, jaw clenching tightly as you bang your head against the floor to try and end your misery.

Shoko leans to the side, peering past her sensei and giving you a good once-over before she bursts out laughing, immediately pulling out her phone to snap a picture while her shoulders violently shake from laughter. Gojo and Geto both follow along, looking incredibly amused.

“ That counts as blackmail! Put that fucking phone down,” you glare at her halfheartedly, signing aggressively even though you know she can’t understand you.

“Language, please,” the teacher speaks up.

“ Are you guys seriously going to let him kidnap me like this in broad daylight?”

“I really wish I knew sign language right now,” Geto admits, a wide grin spread across his face.

“They’re saying how much they love this, it’s their favourite pastime, they aren't being kidnapped and this is all of their own volition. Also, they think you’re my most annoying students,” Yaga says, before slowly dragging you away as he walks backwards.

“ I’ll remember this. I’ll remember this betrayal for the rest of my life,” you flip the group of students off, who watch and continue to laugh at you, except for Haibara who dramatically reaches out, fake tears streaming down his face.

“Don’t worry!” He exclaims your name. “I’ll find you when you’re back!”

You continue to glare at them until you and Yaga turn a corner, finally disappearing from view. The teacher continues to drag you until you arrive at the front door of the dormitories, finally letting you go. You quickly scramble to your feet, dusting yourself off and watching as the teacher lets your duvet drop to the ground pathetically.

“ Was that really necessary?” You sign to him, not bothering to pick it up – you’ll wash it when you come back from wherever Yaga is taking you to.

“ Absolutely . ” He nods in reply. “You would’ve taken an entire hour to get ready, and I want you to meet him as soon as possible.”

You relent, sighing dramatically as you follow behind Yaga as you both walk through campus until you go down the large flight of stairs, the teacher’s car waiting for you at the bottom.

“ Oh my god, you really are kidnapping me, aren’t you?” You tease him, comically widening your eyes.

“Put those hands down and get in the car, will you?” He replies, arching an eyebrow.

Raising your hands up in surrender, you get in the passenger seat while Yaga gets in the driver's seat. The car starts up not long after, and you set off, weaving through the streets of the city. Eventually, the car pulls up to a familiar building.

“ Why are we at your house?”

Yaga doesn’t reply, simply turning the engine off before stepping out to unlock the front door. You follow obediently, going on your tiptoes to peer over the taller man’s shoulder curiously, trying to take a peek at whoever he wants you to meet. Yaga ushers you inside quickly, locking the door behind you. You take your shoes off, leaving them on the rack near the doorway.

Once upon a time, with a fresh slash across your face and matted hair, this was where you stayed until he moved you to campus.

He doesn’t bother turning the lights on, instead leading you to another room. The door is shut, and there are colourful stickers randomly littered near the bottom of it, making you wonder why they were stuck on there, of all places. Your questions are soon answered as Yaga swings the door open, revealing a brightly-lit room with its blinds drawn back.

A… baby panda?

Said animal turns to look at you both, tilting its head in curiosity. It wears a baby diaper, with a toy train held in its paws. Upon further inspection, there are multiple toys scattered around the room with a comfortable-looking twin bed pressed in the corner.

The cub speaks. You can clearly see it move its lips, but its fur is so thick it’s hard to read its lips. Your eyes widen, but you can feel a smile spreading across your face before you can stop it. It’s so cute!

“Panda, this is…” Yaga slowly introduces your name to the panda. Then, he addresses you. “This is Panda, he’s…” he hesitates, but looks between the both of you and at the starry expression on your face. “Well, to put it simply, an Abrupt-Mutation Cursed Corpse.”

Your eyebrows raise up in surprise, pointing to Panda. “ You created a mutated corpse? ”

Yaga’s hands immediately go to grasp your shoulders, looking you dead in the eye.

“I’m begging you, please don’t tell anyone. If word gets out, I could be killed for this.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “Who would I even tell? The higher-ups? I’m sure they would definitely trust me.”

“Good point. Sorry– I’m just so worried about this. I only want to give him the best, he’s my first successful mutation.”

You nod your head in understanding. “I promise, your secret is safe with me.”

Yaga’s attention is back on the baby animal, and they talk amongst themselves. You look over the teacher’s shoulder, waving at Panda with a smile. The latter raises his paw and mimics you in reply. Oh god, cuteness aggression is real, you think to yourself, having to turn away before you let the urge to squeeze the cub in your arms take over.

A hand to your shoulder makes you turn back, and Yaga makes you crouch next to him to face the panda properly.

“Would you mind introducing yourself to him in sign language?” He asks, telling Panda to pay close attention.

“ It’s nice to meet you, Panda, ” you sign slowly, followed by spelling your name, fingers carefully shaping the words, repeating both Panda’s name and your own.

“That is sign language,” Yaga explains to the young one. “You’ll be learning it.”

Panda’s mouth moves again as he nods his head before giving you a full grin, shiny white fangs on display and all.

“Eventually, I want to train him properly, but for now he has to remain here. If the higher-ups discover him, my career is over – and my life too, most likely,” the teacher turns to face you as he speaks. “But I’m worried he’s lonely when I’m not here, even with the babysitter. I’ve already attached a new set of keys to your keychain, so if you have the chance… would you mind dropping by sometime?”

You nod your head enthusiastically, which makes Yaga quickly pat your shoulder appreciatively.

You both look back at Panda, who continues playing with his toys. You feel a sense of calm wash over you, and you situate yourself on the floor more comfortably, raising one of the toys to make playful chomping gestures at Panda’s cheeks, who’s shoulders shake as he laughs in glee.

Unbeknownst to you, Yaga takes a quick picture of the two of you in your own world, a real smile playing upon his lips.

You walk all the way back to the school, still dressed in your pyjamas. People send you odd looks as you stuff your hands into your sweatpants, a frown and pout on your face. Yaga sent you back on your own, claiming that you needed more fresh air and to enjoy the sunny day outside. All you really wanted to do was lay in bed all day and let your sore body recuperate for the upcoming week.

As you trudge your body up the unending flight of stairs that lead back to the school, you are greeted with the sight of Nanami and Haibara talking amongst themselves, sitting across from each other at a picnic table with a bunch of snacks set up on the surface. The trees above them provide a nice canopy of shade, protecting them from the harsh glare of the sun.

Haibara’s brown eyes suddenly lock onto your own, and they light up upon seeing you. He enthusiastically waves you over, apparently yelling your name so loudly that Nanami grabs his arm, making a shushing motion at him.

“Hi!” He greets you with a wide smile upon his lips. “You made it back alive!”

“ No thanks to you, ” you sign in return, though it’s all meant lightheartedly.

The brunette immediately pouts. “Sorry, I don’t really know what you said besides ‘ no’ and ‘ you ’.”

You give him a light smile. “ It’s okay.”

Haibara proceeds to pat the empty seat on the bench next to him, motioning at you to sit down. “You should join us! We’re having lunch now.” Nanami looks like he’s about to contradict him, a small blush forming on the tips of his ears, but he concedes, nodding along.

Apprehensive, you take a seat next to the brunette, signing a quick thank you in reply. Your bed is calling you right now, but there’s no harm in hanging out with the two men, either.

“What did sensei want with you, anyway?” Haibara asks before taking a bite out of one of the small triangle sandwiches.

Keep Panda a secret, Yaga’s words pop up in your head. Keep Panda safe.

“ Nothing important,” you reply.

“I think that’s… ‘ nothing’, right?” Nanami asks, immediately turning to rummage through his bag, pulling out a sign language dictionary. Your eyes widen slightly in delight, a small quiet laugh bursting past your lips. The blonde replicates the motion you made previously, palms facing you and Haibara before turning them to himself. You nod in reply, smiling.

“He’s learning pretty quickly,” the brunette says, offering a sandwich to you, who takes it from his hand, proceeding to munch away on it gratefully. “I have to admit it’s a lot for me to learn. I’m still stuck on finger-spelling.”

“To be honest, me too,” Nanami admits, flitting through the pages of the dictionary. “Would you mind telling me if I’m signing my name right?”

You shake your head back and forth, eyes locked onto his hands as he moves them to sign his name as accurately as possible. He stumbles over the motions slightly, but it is still understandable for you, albeit a bit awkward to follow along. You give the blonde an ‘ok’ sign before you wipe your hands on your pants, proceeding to lean over the table to gently grasp Nanami’s hands into your own and moving his fingers into the correct position.

“ There, ” You mouth to him as you move them back and forth to help him memorize. “ Na-na-mi.”

“I… see,” he replies, whole face flushing light pink. You quickly sit back down properly, grabbing a cookie, completely oblivious to the other man’s embarrassment.

You see Gojo and Geto approaching the table before they can greet your group properly. You wave at them with a smile on your face, and the raven-haired man returns it with a tired one of his own.

“What’s going on over here?” Gojo asks as he reaches you all, leaning over Nanami’s shoulder. The latter is already frowning in disdain, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else but there. “ Ooh, sign language, huh?”

“They’re just showing us how to sign Nanamin’s name,” Haibara says, eyes starry as his eyes are locked on Geto.

“Cool. Anyways, we were wonderi–”

“Ohh, wait, show me how to sign my name!” Haibara interrupts him, shaking your shoulder back and forth to grab your attention. He completely ignores Gojo’s glare sent his way, attentively watching as you happily demonstrate it to him. The two of you go back and forth for a few minutes until he finally grasps it well enough.

After your small lesson, the brunette turns back to his peers. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“Uh,” Gojo looks awkward as he looks at the ground for a split-second before he gazes at you through his sunglasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose absentmindedly. “We were wondering if you were going to… train with us today.”

You look at them quizzically, eyebrows furrowed. Since when did you train together on weekends?

Not that you’re against it, but–

You look at the snacks on the table, then to Haibara and Nanami, who look at you almost expectantly. Well, you were already here, and they seemed to want to learn more sign language, so…

You shrug your shoulders in reply, shaking your head back and forth.

“Are you sure?” Geto asks – he seems disappointed.

You sign an apology, sending him a nervous smile. “They offered me food. Plus, I would feel bad if I left them now because they want to learn sign language.”

“Alright. See you on Monday, then,” Gojo says rather abruptly, lips pressed tightly together. “C’mon, Suguru.”

You wave goodbye to them, which only Geto returns. It takes a moment for Gojo’s words to finally register in your mind. Wait, did he–?

“That was weird,” Haibara says after an awkward pause. “Gojo was acting strange.”

“When is he not?” Nanami asks rhetorically, still looking bothered. “He has a talent at butting his head into our business.”

“Yeah, but not like that. Eh, whatever, it’s not that important,” the brunette eventually goes back to his food. After finishing off his own plate, he seems to pause halfway while brushing the crumbs away from his mouth with his thumb. He turns to you, who still continues to stare at where the men were once standing. He gently taps your shoulder which makes you snap your head to look at him.

You tilt your head to the side in question, shaking your index finger back and forth. “ What is it? ”

“Say, I forgot to ask. When’s your birthday?” Haibara asks. “I hope we haven’t missed it…”

You look at him blankly for a moment before giving him a shrug. Honestly, you don't remember the moment you appeared into existence. You were just… created, simply put. One second, you weren't, then you were. There were no big explosions or festivities, unless you counted the people who used to worship you, although that was centuries ago.

Haibara looks utterly offended on your behalf. “Are you telling me you don’t know or you don’t have one?”

“The second one. ”

“Nanami, we can’t have this!” He turns to the blonde, who doesn’t seem too surprised himself. “We’ll give you a birthday then.”

“Are you sure that’s appropriate?” Nanami asks, looking over at you, unsure.

“ I’m sure it’s fine.”

Haibara catches his chin between his forefinger and thumb, looking dead ahead of him, eyes becoming unfocused. Wow, he’s seriously thinking hard about this. You and Nanami share a look, the latter shaking his head back and forth, exasperated. It takes a few moments until Haibara snaps out of it suddenly, looking as if he’s been illuminated.

“I got it!” He says, eyes sparkling from how excited he is. “October thirty-first!”

“Okay, that definitely can’t be appropriate.”

You just stare at them, absolutely confused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a curse, right? Those cursed energy levels coming from you are off the charts, more than any normal human being. Either that, or you’re cursed,” oh, so close, you wince. “But a curse is technically a spirit, right? And spirits are technically ghosts! It’s fitting, isn’t it?”

In any other world, you would love to jump in joy – Haibara was so close to actually understanding what you are. You wish they could understand sign language or that you had your notebook to write in so you could actually explain the situation. However, decades of being dismissed and treated as less than others render you exhausted. There’s no point trying to justify yourself if Haibara is dead set on believing that you are a curse. If that’s how he sees you, then so be it.

Instead, you steels your nerves, simply giving him a curt nod of your head. That’s perfect.

Haibara and Nanami smile warmly at you.

“October thirty-first it is,” the blonde says, going back to flipping through his book, the smile still plastered on his lips.

As you all finish your food in silence, you let your gaze wander up, peering at the sun through the leaves of the trees that create a canopy above your group. You grin to yourself, feeling a sense of satisfaction bloom within you.

The kindest gift that you have received. A day of celebration for you.

A celebration of life for a dead man walking.

Lately, Satoru dreams of you.

When he off-handedly told Suguru about it the first time it happened, the latter barked out a sharp laugh and asked him, “What, like a wet dream?”

He finds himself wishing it were.

At this point, Satoru would take that over whatever has actually been happening when he falls asleep.

It starts off inconspicuously enough – when he drifts off, the next thing he knows, he’s standing in the middle of a road out in the countryside. He can’t actually pinpoint whether it’s a real location that he’s seen before or not, but the endless amount of wheat fields that lay to his right seem properly tended to. To his left, there’s a forest that goes on endlessly, thick fog permeating from it. It’s always pitch-black outside, and he’d like to assume it’s the witching hour, but something at the back of his mind tells him that’s not right. The shadows unnaturally stretch for miles across the road.

There’s always a certain itch crawling along his skin, as if he’s being observed. But every time he looks over his shoulder, he is utterly alone. There are no other signs of life – no birds chirping, no cars driving down the gravel road, no farmers tending to the fields or horses gallivanting around behind the wooden fence. He can’t even hear the gravel crunching underneath his shoes. He doesn’t feel safe here.

Satoru desperately wants to wake up, but something isn’t letting him.

Eventually, his alarm clock will shock him awake, pulling him from the impossibly deep sleep he was in. And every time, the day starts then comes to an end, and after a long day of hard work and training, he has to let his mind and body rest, so he goes to sleep. And every time, he is always greeted with that same dream.

As the weeks pass by, the recurring dream becomes more and more specific.

This time, after standing in the same place for what feels like an eternity, his feet absentmindedly carry him forwards down the road, eyes snapping to every dark corner as the sense of unease grows and grows and grows. He feels a shiver run down his spine when he hears deep, breathless breathing right in his ear, as if someone is overexerting themselves next to him, body desperately pressed up against his own. His head snaps to the side, but there’s nobody there.

Every muscle of his body tenses up, the hair on his arms raising. He feels his eyes sinking into their eye sockets, wide with fear. The Gojo clan does not fear anything , he hears the voice of his father tell his younger self after a thunderstorm that left him shaking like a leaf.

The breathing is not his own, Satoru knows this for a fact. His hands are pressed up against his mouth and nose as he tries to take deep, quiet breaths, his heart clenching and making nausea tumble around in his stomach.

The scenery stays exactly the same as usual – not a single thing changes, except for the varying height of the wheat fields. After another indiscernible amount of time, there’s a break in between the fields; a small church, made of old wood with its white paint chipping off, slightly elevated from the road. It almost resembles a backyard shack. The windows and front door are boarded up with thick panels, with weeds and vines growing along some cracks. It’s obviously been unoccupied for years, if not decades.

Satoru’s blood runs cold as his eyes adjust to the dark even further, noticing a body laying on the cement steps leading up to the front door of the small building. The person is surrounded by small asphodels growing from the cracks in the cement, the small white petals a stark contrast to the darkness that envelops this dream. He keeps his eyes down– down, so he can at least pretend that the person is sleeping.

The dark liquid surrounding them seems to scream otherwise.

The stranger’s body resting on the stairs is positioned on their knees, stomach down, their head resting against the hard concrete and facing his way.

He stays a fair distance away, but Satoru feels even more sick once he realizes that the body isn't just a stranger, after all.

It's you .

The unmistakable colour of your hair is splayed along the steps, mismatched eyes looking more faded and dead than ever before. Suddenly, the smell hits Satoru’s nostrils, making him gag. The stench of rot fills the air around him, unescapable. Not even the sweet, honeysuckle scent of the asphodels can cover it up. The fragrances mix together, producing something that just smells wrong.

Against his better judgement, his feet stay firmly planted in place; something tells him that he can’t leave your body here.

The sound of flies buzzing around your dead body becomes more obvious once he takes a few steps forward, but he halts immediately once he sees a shadow spreading, moving from the darkness that it casts along the cracks in the road, moving unnaturally; detached from reality. It stretches up, up, up , becoming more human-like until Satoru’s eyes can see the individual pair of arms and legs standing over your body. The rest of its features are muted – it’s just a shadow, after all.

It’s just a shadow, right?

Right?

Its hands reach out to brush the hair away from your face, and Satoru feels his body fill with disgust, but he doesn’t know why. His six eyes seem to tune into something that his mind refuses to process. His mouth opens to tell it off, to get it away from you, but nothing comes out; the words get stuck in his throat, as if it is impossible for him to make any noise.

The shadow fades in and out as it hunches over you, getting closer and closer to your ear, and the heavy breathing in Satoru’s ear only grows in volume. This feels wrong on so many levels. It feels like an imaginary hand is wrapping around his throat, cutting off his ability to breathe in properly as his eyes are completely fixated on the scene before him. His heart pounds against his ribcage, and it feels like it’s about to leap out of his body.

The shadow’s fading hand gently strokes your cheek in a comforting manner, its head brushing right against your ear. At that exact moment, uncontrollable warped words play backwards in Satoru’s head, putting the devil’s tongue to shame. He can’t tell anything apart, as if his brain is melting. None of the sentences make sense, the voice sounding anything but human, layered over itself, and the words meld together in a messy tangle.

“ You… poor thing…” The single sentence that is finally managed to be unravelled, making his body run ice cold.

The buzzing of the flies is suddenly so overwhelming, becoming the only noise that Satoru can hear – he finds himself thankful for a moment, finally being spared of the voice that sounds like iron dragging against concrete, but he realizes that it’s him waking up. His body becomes weightless, but his arms immediately reach out, hands grasping at nothing as he tries to claw through the air to your body.

“ WAIT! ” He finally manages to shout, followed by desperately screaming your name, feeling his throat go raw. The flies are starting to surround his body, trying to take him away from his dead body lying along the stairs – but then his dream finally allows his eyes to focus on them, and they’re not flies.

It’s hundreds of paper birds, ones that he used to see when he read children’s fairytale books. They’re semi-humanoid paper creatures, off-white in colour with a round circle as their head, with rectangular wings sticking out, and the rest of their figure angling inwards, turning into a sharp, acute point, forming a pointed tail. A representation of the body and mind of something that shouldn’t exist.

“Wait, WAIT! Please!” He shouts your name again in distress.

He’s not sure what he’s begging for, but he manages to push through the paper birds just enough to put his entire strength to take a few steps forward. I’m the strongest, he repeats to himself over and over again. I should be able to rip these things apart. Just when his hands brush against your shoulder, the birds seem to multiply in numbers, the buzzing turning into intense static ringing through his head. I’m the strongest , he thinks again. I’m the strongest.

“ Let me go !” He screams over the sound of the buzzing, swatting a paper bird away from his face, but it doesn’t stop others from flying into his ears, up his nostrils and into his mouth, making him gag and choke. He feels them move violently under his skin, making his cheeks burn as he feels them slash and break it, blood drip- dripping down his chin slowly and smearing across his face from the chaos.

Satoru’s hand manages to clasp around your bicep, but it’s too late. The swarm manages to break his hold on you as they take the white-haired man’s breath away, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his grip on the nightmare slipping. The imagery fades, the looming shadow being the last thing he can clearly make out as the overwhelming sound of paper birds turns into the familiar one of his alarm clock going off.

Satoru’s body jolts away, cold sweating spread all across his body, his clothes sticking to him uncomfortably. His hand immediately slams down on the alarm so violently that it smashes into pieces, but the urge to purge the contents of his stomach overshadows the dull pain throbbing in his hand.

He runs to the washroom, nearly tripping over his legs before spewing everything up into the toilet. The nausea hits him more intensely as he feels the chunks of food creep up his throat, the acidic taste of bile overwhelming his taste buds and the intense smell invading his nostrils. His back heaves from the force of it, muscles tensing up tightly. His sweaty forehead presses against the porcelain seat as he tries to catch his breath, thick spit pooling from his lips and onto the cold bathroom floor. Once he feels stable enough, he raises himself on shaky legs, going to the small sink to rinse his mouth. As he bends down to drink the water pooling in his hands and swish it around in his mouth, his mind can’t help but remind him of the intense buzzing of the swarm of paper birds, almost as if they’re really there with him in the waking world.

He reassures himself that it was just an incredibly vivid dream, that absolutely nothing can go wrong in the waking world. He is safe, and you are alive and well, probably already waiting with Shoko for him and Suguru to show up to class. It was simply a nightmare , nothing more, and nothing less.

After rinsing his mouth properly, he raises his head, his muscles becoming impossibly stiff.

The buzzing returns tenfold.

The hand around his neck is back.

The voice speaking in tongues is distant, but definitely there.

And a familiar shadow looms behind him.