JoJo~! @jojikawa - Tumblr Blog

Jun 22

Contest of Gods ❤️⚔️

Ｐａｒｔ３: ＴｈｅＩｎｄｅｐｅｎｄｅｎｔＯｒｇａｎ

Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ⚠️ Grooming (Adult MC was groomed by Kenjaku as a minor), Emotional Manipulation, suicide attempt, sexualization of the mc

“Both of my brothers just died.”

The world goes silent. It’s as if the room’s frozen over with how cold the words are. You don’t have to be him to feel his heart break into a million tiny pieces, so fine and sharp that trying to pick them up would ruin you.

His crestfallen gaze remains downcast on the table and eerily still before you like a machine with no purpose.

The silence doesn’t last long. Geto questions him. Asks him how he knows and if he’s sure. Mahito laughs. You scold him. Everyone talks, but he doesn’t hear—only the thudding of his heart in his ears.

His brothers are strong. He’s trained them, he’d given them his blood. There was no way they were taken out by a single-finger vessel.

But the ever-present emptiness in his soul is undeniable. The vast hollow space where they used to exist inside him. The constant thread of their existence. The one thing they had since the moment they were born. So empty, it’s crushing.

What do you do when everything in the garden suddenly disappears? When everything he’s worked so hard on has disintegrated. Who took away all of his flowers?

Yuji Itadori.

The single-finger vessel.

He must die.

Choso stands, the abrupt motion almost knocking everything over, and his chair makes a piercing scrape against the floor. He doesn’t look at Geto. He doesn’t look at Mahito.

“I must avenge them,” he mutters, eyes wide, posture stiff. His legs move on autopilot. They don’t know where they’re going. Maybe the last place he felt his precious siblings. The hallways blur as he leaves the apartment complex. It’s beyond abandoned. Too quiet. Each step echoes the same deafening realization: They’re gone.

How could he have betrayed them in this way?

He was selfish, wanting to stay behind for you. Even if he was just living through Geto, he’s an idiot. There’s nothing else in this world that’s stronger than the love he has for his family, but for the briefest moment, your essence corrupted his mind, flooding his veins and painting every part of his small world that consisted only of him and his brothers. His love for you became the sun in the sky, the oxygen he breathed, the water he drank.

While they were fighting for their lives, he was lost in the memory of your gentle hands on his face, the smell of your perfume, your soft voice telling him what love means and how it's the only thing worth living for.

The warmth you give him feels so bright— so new, it’s always gnawed at him. For a few self-serving moments, he let it consume and ravage him like poison.

He betrayed them.

Distracted by wanting someone he isn’t allowed to want. While they took their last breaths, he’d been yearning for touch and to be seen by your pretty eyes.

The guilt stabs him deeper than any blade.

He stands alone on a dark road where they seemingly died, the night cold whipping at his cheeks. Everything surrounding him blurs as he finds himself in a perpetual loop of sorrow and anguish.

Why did this have to happen? Why now?

A dark stain still lingers on the pavement. Blood. Some of it belongs to his brothers. Some of it doesn’t.

He drops to his knees.

It should’ve been him. Why was he the one left alive? He was a terrible older brother, failing the one job he’s given himself. Now he lives in a world of corpses. Sad and alone.

Choso doesn’t remember standing up. Like a passenger in his own body, his legs carry him away from the dark stain.

Every step echoes with the same thought.

They died for nothing.

His hands curl into fists at his sides.

By the time he reaches the apartment complex again, the world feels strangely quiet.

♡ — ♡ — ♡

Not much conversation is uttered after Choso’s disappearance, but there was some tension.

Tension both Kenjaku and you felt.

He’d barely looked at you since Choso left, answering you in short, polite responses. When you tried to kiss him, he’d turn his head slightly so your lips would brush his cheek.

“Why do you act surprised when you knew? You should’ve told him,” you say, crossing your arms, eyeing your shirtless lover before you.

The corner of his mouth tugs upward. “He insisted his brothers could handle it. He knows his own blood better than I. Who am I to correct that?” he leans back onto the sink’s edge.

Your lips press to a line as you resume the actions of your shared nightly ritual. Now that his face is bare and clean, you squeeze a generous amount of serum onto your palms, rub them together, and place them on his face.

Even as you stand before him, trying to read him, he looks overly calm.

Kenjaku smiles, hands raising to gently hold your wrists as you apply the soothing, cold cream to his face. “Those two aren’t a part of the world I imagine with you, anyway,” he mutters.

“But they’re still his family,” you reply. “His only family. Who does he have now?”

“And why do you care, little miss, hm?” His eyebrow raises, his expression is playful, knowing. “All you should be worried about is helping me keep up this body you hold so dear.”

“I am,” You bite out. “Because my boyfriend isn’t just ancient. He’s lazy too. At least show some respect to the previous owner.”

“I’m not lazy. I have a beautiful woman taking care of me. Is it bad that I like it?”

Your thumbs settle on his cheekbones, just below his eyes. “You need to get more rest. You’re getting bags.”

“I can’t help it if I’m not tired. Maybe you could help me exert some more energy?” His hands move to your waist, pulling your flush against him. Your cheeks warm at his bulge pressing against your front. He’s not exactly hard, but he easily can be.

Puffing your cheeks, you pull away. “Ugh, I’m trying to be serious, and you’re just ruining it! Stop being so horny. I’m mad at you.”

“Mad? Because Choso overestimated the strength of his lackeys?”

“They’re his brothers. And he cared a lot about them. Doesn’t it make you feel bad?”

His eyes close, but his incessant smile remains. “Not at all,” he declares. “All I care about is you. In turn, you should only care about me. Don’t let pity for the outside penetrate our connection.”

“But they were all he had…”

“Pawns die, (y/n). We’ve been over this.”

“Does this mean that at some point… Choso will die too?”

“He is a pawn, is he not?”

The silence stretches a bit. You finish putting moisturizer on him and return to your bedroom. He doesn’t follow right away, but when he does, you wish he hadn’t.

The life that you want to have with him is the only thing you’ve ever wanted for as long as you can remember. But the few connections you’d make along the way never last.

Your family comes to mind.

How are they? What are they doing? Do they miss you? Do they even notice you’re gone?

Your chest is hollow, and Kenjaku only fills such a small part of it.

“You care an awful lot about him,” Kenjaku says. He joins you, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You shake your head. “It’s not that it just–”

“Stop stressing yourself out. Choso is a curse. They come and go. What matters is us. Only us.”

“Is he?” You question, meeting his eyes. “A curse, that is. He doesn’t look like one. It’s easy to forget. I want to think that we’re friends, ya know? That’s why I’m upset. You’re always putting other people in danger.”

A bitter chuckle escapes him.

“I thought we were past this, (y/n).”

Your eyebrows raise. “Past what…?” You ask, but you already know.

“Why do you expect me to pretend? The only thing I care about is you.” His hands raise to cup your cheeks. “When I make the world better, it will only ever be you and me. You weaken yourself by feeling for others when all you have to do is feel for me.”

“Geto…” You avoid his eyes.

“I thought we were past this. I thought you were done doubting me. I had no room in my heart for anyone else for centuries, but I let you in, just for you to doubt me,” he whispers, he leans so close that you feel his breath on your lips. “You go behind my back. You put others before me. A little girl has no right to lecture me on the morality of my work. I thought you finally understood that I’m the only one who knows what’s best for you.”

Your stomach twists. “What? I’m just disappointed you’re not more empathetic towards Choso when he and his brothers help so much!”

“They’re pawns and you attach yourself to them. For what reason?” he questions.

You feel a familiar sting behind your eyes. He always does this and you hate it, acting like the fate of the world is at stake whenever the two of you have a small obstacle. Overloading you when you’re vulnerable is so easy.

“I wasn’t doubting you,” you whisper. “I was just lonely, you’ve been so–”

“So what?” he cut in, still calm. “Distant? Busy? And instead of being patient, you ran to him.”

“But that doesn’t mean I’m trying to betray you. I love you. I just want to believe that my family loved me too. I… I want to see them, Kenjaku,” you hiccup.

“I’m your family, (y/n). Those strangers from before were your executioners. After the first one died, your family wanted to sell you like a horse. They ate each other whole, throwing around wealth, power, politics for a human auction. And you know who protected you from those horrible monsters?” He makes you look at him, his thumbs brushing the tears that escape your eyes.

He continues. “Look at you. Crying again. You cry so easily these days. You talk back and insult me. You demand things of me when I already give so much. Sometimes I wonder if you even realize how much you hurt me when you act like this.”

You want to speak, but you don’t. When he talks, you must listen.

Tears spill over.

“But it's okay. I forgive you,” he says, pressing his lips to yours. He kisses your wet cheek once and your lips again, this time slow, deep, and possessive. “I know you don’t mean to be difficult. You’re just… fragile. Anyone would be if they had your trauma. That’s why I have to protect you so carefully. Even from yourself.”

He pulls you into his bare chest, smelling pleasant like the cologne you told him you loved, stroking your hair and rubbing circles in your back. It only made tears spill more. You love him, but he so deeply misunderstands you.

“You see?” he murmurs once you’ve wrapped your arms around him. “This is why you only need me. No one else would dare be so patient with you. No one else will love you the way I do.”

“But I…”

“Shh… negative things only exist if you breathe life into them,” he says. “You don’t need your old family. Once I get what we deserve, I will give you a family.”

You sniffle and cling to him. “A… family?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll need an heir, after all. I think you’d make a wonderful mother. Now, let’s go to bed. You must be exhausted, so full of emotion at this hour.”

Choso hears it all, slumped beneath the windowsill, his face wet with tears and hot with anger he doesn’t quite know where to place. Rain soaks his clothing and hair in the dark, feeling sick to his stomach at the way he makes you fold.

And that name… Kenjaku. It sounds familiar, but when he tries to think of what it means, it slips away like grains of sand from his palm.

And he doesn’t care.

Geto doesn’t care for him. He doesn’t care for his brothers or that they’ve died for something Geto asked them to do. He can’t bring himself to move, so he remains outside your window as the world’s sobs make his robes cling to his skin, wet his face, and blur his vision.

Geto never cared, he thinks. Not for them. Not for me. If he doesn’t care for us… does he really care about her?

The sharp feeling of resentment, anger, and something else dull for a moment, allowing him to finally rest. Body as heavy as a corpse, he dreams, but not really.

For a long time, it’s an inky void where he occasionally sees pictures. Some Eso. Some Kechizu. Some… you. Less of them are Geto. A little of Mahito. The last two are easy to forget about.

“Choso? He hears. “Are you alright?”

It’s you.

His eyes snap open. The afternoon sun makes them shut again as its reflection from the pavement burns, but slowly, his eyes flutter open, meeting yours.

Wearing a cute thin light coloured dress and flats with a large straw hat. He also notices that you’re wearing thick fabric gloves that don’t match your outfit at all.

Beside you is a curse Choso recognizes. They’re a large, tanned humanoid with a white cloth covering their body and left arm like a sash. Imposing with a strong, earthy scent to them.

“...(y/n)?” He blinks up at you, not addressing your companion.

“We were wondering where you went last night! Were you out here all night? Why didn’t you come in?” You crouch down into the dewy grass, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, your clothes are soaked…”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs and rises. You stand too.

“Alright,” you smile before gesturing to the curse that stands a foot from you like a bodyguard. “This is Hanami, one of Mahito’s friends. I don’t know if you’ve met them already, but–”

“I’ve met them,” he says, flatly, voice hard. He clears his throat before he continues, “Wh…Why are they with you?”

“Hm, well, I wanted to do some gardening with Geto today, but he suggested I ask Hanami because they like the earth and stuff,” you begin.

“Miss (y/n) has a natural harmony with the earth. The flowers grow well under her care. That is not something I see often from humans,” Hanami interjects, their voice deep and carrying a note of approval.

You hum in acknowledgement. “Thanks, Hanami!” Your pupils pulse, and you can’t help but smile harder. “You should join us, Choso.”

“I’d rather not,” he says fast. Too fast. You almost don’t catch it.

“A-Are you sure?” You tilt your head. “I feel like you need someone to help take care of you a little. You’re not exactly being to yourself, Cho.”

Your eyes meet for a second, but he can’t hold it, and looks away.

“...I think I’d just… rather be alone right now,” he says. “I’d be a burden anyway.”

“That’s what you think?” You glance at Hanami in disbelief. “Cho, you’re never a burden. I won’t bother you at all… I’d just like the company.”

Why did you have to do this? Always asking him to do things he doesn’t want to do, but you look so pretty and smell so pleasant, and he hates that he can never just say no once, because if he has to say it again, he won’t.

“I…” he swallows hard. “Okay.”

“Sweet!” you cheer before motioning him to follow. “There’s some things on the roof I want to check on. Once the sun dries your little bed, I’ll come back and plant some stuff there.”

The three of you walk to the roof of the building.

Choso has never ventured this far, only ever being where he is needed and not where he wants. He’s heard the garden mentioned before by Geto through an off-handed comment he made to Mahito once. I can’t today. I’m gardening with (y/n) that day.

His mind would wonder and wander about what exactly went on up there.

Is yours like his? Is your garden something you nurture with every fiber of your being the way he does? But he never knew how much he wanted it until this very moment.

The abandoned apartment complex is old, gray, and crumbling, but most of the foundation is unfunctional, allowing for the beautiful sight before him.

Your ability to carve out something beautiful from something so ugly and disgusting as a deserted living space.

What was once a barren, cracked concrete roof is now completely transformed into a lush oasis. Wild vines climb up rusted railings, spilling off the edges of building.

Wooden crates, old buckets, large ceramic pots were arranged in clusters across the rooftop in a formation that allows the caretaker to talk through.

Pink peonies, delicate white roses, deep purple lavender, bright orange marigolds, and baby blue forget-me-nots growing in healthy abundance, accompanied by rosemary, mint, thyme, and basil. Choso smells them before he sees them, the scents mixing with the sweetness of the flowers that the breeze carries.

In the center stands a small, handmade pergola, draped in flowering wisteria that climbs the wood to create a natural canopy that filters the sunlight into pretty, dappled patterns on the ground. Beneath is a wooden bench with faded pink and cream colored cushions and a round table.

“This is–” he opens his mouth to speak, frozen, not sure where to step. It’s simply beautiful.

“Geto and I worked so hard on this. He even built the little arbor thingy himself. Isn’t he talented?” You gush. “Feel free to sit where you want.”

Hanami helps themself to a series of potted plants.

Choso remains at the entrance. Being here feels…

…Dangerous.

“Choso?”

“Y-Yes?”

“I want to plant some more buds. Wanna listen to me yap as I do it?”

He doesn’t speak, but his feet move. Now he’s painfully aware of how he looks and how he must smell, but you don’t seem to mind.

He joins you, awkwardly standing six feet away as you get to work. The atmosphere is strangely peaceful. The air feels better on his skin than it did when he was in the mud. He occasionally looks at Hanami, seeing how they contribute by growing flowers from their body to filling empty pots.

There was no way he could stare at you for long, finding Hanami or the ground more comfortable to look at. Your sundress is thin and delicate against the decay and greenery, gloved hands moving so carefully as you scoop dirt, place bulbs, and pat the soil. The sun hits your skin perfectly, illuminating with a soft golden glow.

“Wanna help? You look like you’re eager to learn,” you say without looking at him.

His mouth moves, but he doesn’t say anything. So he walks forward until he’s beside you.

You motion him down, and he comes down on his knees. The position puts him closer to you than he expects. Your shoulder nearly brushes his every time you move.

You hand him a small trowel. “Here. The pot already has soil, so just dig a little hole— not too deep.”

Choso takes the tool carefully, like he’d break it if not care. He watches your demonstration, your gloved hands working the soil gently as you make a pouch for the bulbs with just your fingers. When it’s his turn, he copies the movements, unsure and almost robotic.

“You’re doing great!” You cheer, clapping softly. His chest tightens at the gesture and praise. “See, you’re a natural!”

He doesn’t answer. He’s too focused on you, trying not to inform you of how much he’s actually looking at you. Maybe something’s wrong with him. Skirts and dresses are normal for you to wear, but today, he is painfully aware of things he wasn’t before, like how the fabric clings to your curves, how it rides up and recedes, showing how much your thighs spread when sitting.

Every time you shift, he has to force his eyes back to the dirt.

You’re oblivious to his inappropriate struggles, just talking in that soft, melodic voice of yours— explaining which flowers like more sun, which ones need more water, and how you’ve been trying to grow lavender since you were little because you adore the smell.

At one point, you lean across him to reach the bag of bulbs. Your arm brushes his chest, and he’s able to see right down the valley of your breasts. Whatever perfume you wear mixed with the fresh soil, along with the proximity, hits him all at once.

When you pull back, still oblivious, and smile at him.

“See? Easy, right?” you say, tilting your head. “You’re really helping me a lot today, Cho. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

He swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth and nods once, knowing his voice can’t carry any volume right now. He tries to focus on the soil. On the plant. On anything except how pretty you look right now or how badly he wants to touch you.

I love you.

His confession from before echoes in his mind, getting the urge to utter it again.

But he doesn’t.

For a moment, he’d actually forgotten about his brothers and Geto’s cruel words towards them when he thought no one was listening. He’s cruel to you, too, silencing any sort of reason you could offer in a moment of tragedy.

Choso’s gaze remains fixated on the distant skyline, seeing the entire city stretching out below the two of you, eyes now unbothered by the afternoon light. And with you. It’s beautiful in a way that feels both wild and unattainable.

“Hey, Hanami, can you get Choso and me some lemonade?” You ask. “I would do it myself, but some soil got in my gloves, so my hands are dirty.”

“And you think mine are clean?” Hanami shoots back, but they do move to your request.

“Heh, I guess not. But thanks anyway!”

You cup your hand at a faux attempt to whisper. “I actually just wanna finish this task, but I am in dire need of something to drink.”

You’re sure Hanami is out of earshot, you speak.

“Choso,” you call, and he perks up. Removing your gloves, you sigh. “I… know what it’s like to lose someone.”

He stills, then gawks at you, listening to you as you speak, overlooking the city.

“Wh-what?” He blinks.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone. And I am very sorry for your loss. I know you loved your brothers a lot. More than anything.”

“I… thanks,” his gaze falls to the ground. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”

Tears well up in his eyes.

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t kill them.” His voice comes out deeper to mask his anxiety.

“I don’t have to kill them to be sorry for you. I just want to let you know that you don’t have to navigate it alone.”

Silence ensues for a long time, and at first it seems like he didn’t wanna talk. You don’t pry. The two of you just sit there. Maybe five minutes, no one’s counting. Then he finally speaks.

“They were innocent,” Choso says. “They never hurt anyone…” He pauses for a long time, gathering himself. “Sometimes… they wouldn’t even know what to do if I didn’t tell them.”

His mouth opens and closes wordlessly, then he grimaces before tears fall. You let them.

“It should’ve been me,” he whimpers. “I killed them. I killed my little brothers.”

“Cho…” You raise your hand, ready to place it on his shoulder, but he growls, gritting his teeth and shoving his palms into his eyes to stop the tears, but they flow anyway.

You lower it, clasping your hands together to rest in your lap. His sobs are silent, but you occasionally hear him choke on his sorrow.

“I know how you feel.”

“H-How would you? You’re so—”

Pretty. Happy. Perfect.

What would you know what it’s like to be ugly, disgusting, and useless?

He doesn’t lilt his voice to seem less dangerous, like when he usually speaks to you. It comes out raw and unfiltered— gravely with a thick layer of anguish and misery coating his vocal cords.

He wants you to go away. Leave him in his grief to fester and rot until he does something he shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to comfort him through his own mistakes. He doesn’t need you to pity him.

But you are the first person to say that you are sorry for him.

“Can I tell you something, Choso?” You ask, glancing at him and then back at the sun high in the sky. Your eyes dart down to the horizon and then to the city below. “I come from a noble clan.” You look at him, and he’s already looking at you, his face a mess. “You probably know there are only three of them, but there used to be four… the (l/n)s lost their nobility when I… left.”

You scoot closer, reaching to bring one of his hands from his face and into yours.

“And before I was born, we didn’t have any nobility. A very short legacy,” you laugh, forced. “But I had several brothers and sisters. All older than me.”

You look him in his eyes, a sad smile gracing your lips. “They all were killed.”

“Why—”

“The details are so fuzzy from back then. I can’t remember. So much happened. I met a boy. He was so lovely, then became cruel, just to die too. We were supposed to marry because his cursed technique complemented mine.”

He squeezes your hand, but remains silent.

“Almost everyone I came in contact with died shortly after. My parents shunned me, but they still wanted to use me in their adult chess games. So I was given a new suitor after. The only constant in my life was… Geto. He saved me from the cruelest boy I ever met.” You squeeze his hand back. “I loved my siblings just like you loved yours. I mourned mine just like how you mourn yours. But unlike you, I actually think I killed mine.”

You clear your throat, blinking away your tears. “You didn’t kill them, Choso. And you don’t have to grapple with that alone.

His wet palm grips yours, not knowing what he wants to do more — hug you, kiss you, or tell you he loves you.

The roof door opens, and Hanami returns. Choso flinches, dropping your hand and quickly standing. You rise as well to meet Hanami, masking your expression much better than Choso, who doesn’t want his face to be seen by Hanami and stays still.

“Thanks, Hanami, you even brought cups, too!” you say, you take the tray of lemonade and cups.

“You are welcome, Miss (y/n),” they reply and turn to leave.

“Wait, you’re not staying?!”

“Mahito needs my aid for a task. I will return when I am able.”

You frown. “But Hanami, you said you’d help.”

“Choso is present. You are not alone.”

Choso’s been quite a while. You assume he’s gathering himself so that he can come over, but he doesn’t. You don’t even hear him sniffling.

After Hanami exits, you set the tray on the round table and grab two cups, pouring lemonade into both. Finally, he trudges over to you, taking a glass with shaky hands, and avoids your eyes.

Neither of you speaks for a while, just sipping your drinks and taking in the garden. An extension of your beautiful world. You’re nearly done with yours while Choso takes small, unsure gulps.

“You didn’t have to tell me that,” Choso says after a while, voice still rough from crying. “About your siblings.”

You glance at him with soft eyes. “I wanted to. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone when you have someone like me.”

He lets out a shaky breath and stares down into his half-empty glass. The guilt in his chest only intensifies— much worse than before. You’ve lost people. Many. You’re hurting too.

And here he is, crying, taking up your time and kindness when he should be doing something— anything– to make up for failing his brothers.

The ghost of how he was looking at you earlier eats at him. Defiling you with his eyes when you’re offering a meaningful connection. While his brothers are dead.

Disgusting.

The shift is immediate.

He sets his cup down, a little too hard, spilling the drink and startling you.

“Choso?” you call.

He doesn’t answer. He just stands slowly, eyes distant.

“Cho?” You call again, softer.

He walks to the edge of the roof. Not fast. Not like he’s trying to run. Just… walking. You follow him, setting your cup aside. Maybe he wants to keep looking at the view, and you’d like to accompany him.

Your stomach drops when you realize, but it’s already too late.

He’s already stepping over the edge.

“Choso— wait!”

The wind catches his hair as he looks down at the drop.

“Choso, dont—!”

You rush for her, grabbing whatever part of him you can. He’s heavy, and you fall on the edge.

“What are you doing?!” he yells.

“What are you doing!?”

You have his wrist, holding tight. Every second, you inch forward, hanging more and more off the edge.

“Let me die. Please let go. I just… I want to be with my brothers!”

You open your mouth to speak, and his weight pulls you forward with him. The two of you go off the edge together.

tagged ppl: @alebrasil0101 @iloooooveemangoesssss @qwertygrrrrlll @ironsaladwitch @leonkennedyscums1ut @jadejpg @sseerrenedipity12 @tojisweatyballs

#dark romance #female reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #kenjaku x reader #kenjaku #jjk x black reader #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

JoJo~!