guilty pleasure.

isa · she/her · 18+ writer mlist ✰ ao3 ✰ side ✰ latest ➜ tml 5

[kimvvantae]

the misadventures list; 5 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: toxic parents. brief mentions of homofobia. alcohol consumption. explicit sexual content (semi-public sex, oral m&f receiving, throat fucking, unprotected sex, praise kink kinda, cum play, dirty talk). made-up celebrities. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 20k

A/N: i can't thank you guys enough for waiting for this update! i know it's been a while but i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!! as always, feedback is MUCH appreciated <3

➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

It’s almost 6PM.

Jimin is not happy about it.

The change in his expression as he checks the hour on his phone is subtle, but you see it as clear as day. The smile that remained on his lips and vanished from his eyes. He sighs, putting the phone inside his back pocket, and goes back to saying his goodbyes to everyone at the pier.

It makes you forget for a second that you were in the process of saving your own number on Jane’s phone.

You look down once again, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Damn. You weren’t supposed to be making friends. Jane is the lesser problem right here - she doesn’t know anyone from Jimin’s family except Jimin himself. The problem is that many of Jungkook’s friends are Jimin’s, too, and they asked for your number or your Instagram. Which, sure, isn’t that big of a deal and isn’t something unpredictable either, but hey, your purpose here is to pretend for just three days. You’re supposed to vanish from Jimin’s life right after it’s over. “Vanishing” doesn’t include making friends with his friends.

“What? You forgot your number?” Jane asks, eyeing you. She’s so drunk that it’s obvious that she’s not seeing you really. 

“Yeah, I’m… a little dizzy.” You chuckle awkwardly. That’s a lie, though - you’re not drunk in the slightest. As soon as you noticed that alcohol was making you act weird, you stopped with the cocktails and drank as much water as possible to dissipate it from your system (so much pee). Going to the Park’s private concert drunk is out of question.

Giving in, you type your real number on her phone and hand it back to her. Jane smiles.

“I’m so glad that we met, Y/N! You’re such a great person! For real, like, you have a nice vibe!” Jane says excitedly. Yeah, definitely drunk. “We should meet again before the trip is over!”

It won’t be possible, of course. You’re not free to do whatever you want. But you nod anyway, hoping she won’t remember anything later. “Sure, let’s go out!”

Your little chat is interrupted by Jungkook calling everyone for a group photo. As soon as everyone starts gathering in a spot, you feel Jimin’s hand resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His grip is warm and gentle and heat spreads from the spot he touches. His hair is kind of a mess right now, yet he still manages to look cute. Jimin doesn’t say anything, just sends you a small smile before posing for the camera.

A few clicks later, he leans over to say quietly in your ear: “We really have to go now.”

You nod. Both of you still have to get ready for the concert in a few hours. As Jimin explained, up until now, only his parents’ closest friends arrived; tonight, though, is when the real people will arrive. Not causing a good impression on them is not an option.

You start to make your way out of there, in the midst of saying goodbye to the people you walk past (consciously ignoring the vultures that were around Jimin, though. You ain’t acting nice to them at all). As you both walk past Jungkook, Jimin puts his hand over the younger’s shoulder and sends him a warning gaze. 

“You better sober up,” he says. Jungkook only opens a carefree smirk in response.

“C’mon, I’m not even that drunk yet. Don’t worry.” You’re not so sure about that, though; there’s something kind of psychotic about his silly smile. “See you guys later!”

Instead of arguing, Jimin just sighs.

And finally, you’re walking away from the pier.

It’s quieter now, which honestly is such a relief. The temperature started to cool down a bit. The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon line, yet the sky is still clear, painted in beautiful shades of orange, yellow and pink. You just walk in silence, hands behind your back, feeling a little funny. Since you stayed a long time in the water, it feels as if your body is still floating. It’s been a while since you felt this way.

“Jimin, I wanted to ask you a question…” you say quietly after a while.

After not getting a response, you frown and look around. Jimin isn’t beside you.

He’s a few steps behind, holding his phone to eye level.

“What are you doing?”

Jimin smiles. “Registering the moment.”

You quirk one eyebrow up and walk back to where he stands, a little bit confused. Jimin lets you see his phone for a second.

Your jaw drops.

You stand at the very center of the photo he took, your back turned to him, hair swaying with the wind. The beautiful sight of the evening sky serves as an astonishing background, the last beams of sunlight framing your figure beautifully. It’s breathtaking. He made such a trivial moment become something incredible with a single shot.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, astonished, making Jimin chuckle. “You’ll send me this, right? This has to go on my Instagram feed!”

“Nope.” He says in a cocky manner, sticking his phone to his chest so you can't see it anymore. “I’m gatekeeping this one.”

“Aw, come on! That’s not fair!” You cross your arms and frown at him. "What are you going to do with this photo anyway?"

"It's my lockscreen already." His eyebrows shoot up in a playful expression. "What makes me remember, you should change yours, too. Why didn't we change it before? Such an amateur mistake!" He swiftly takes your phone from your hand and opens the front camera.

"What are you doing-?"

You gasp softly when Jimin pulls you by the waist, sticking your body to his. "Smile, pretty!"

His act was so sudden that you, indeed, end up cracking a genuine smile - at the same moment his lips touch your cheek tenderly. 

Click.

Jimin steps away and smiles proudly at the photo. "We look like a real couple here. Come on, set it as your lockscreen."

You take the phone back from his hand, feeling a little dizzy.

Oh well.

You literally made out with him in front of everyone just a few hours ago, in the middle of the ocean. Why does the chaste kiss he planted on your cheek still makes your face burn? Is it because now you're alone, not having to pretend to be a couple anymore, that his act felt much more intimate? But… there was no one else around during your first kiss at the beach, either.

It's because you're head over heels for him already.

You shake your head frantically as if to yank these thoughts away from your head. No no no. I'm not falling that easily. I'm a cold hearted bitch. I'm just flattered because he's cute and hot and rich, but it'll go away. Right?

"Yeah, right." You mumble.

"What?" Jimin quirks one eyebrow up.

"What?" You freeze, realizing that you voiced your thoughts out loud. "I-I mean- I want to ask you something."

"Oh." He puts his hands behind his back and starts walking again. You follow him shortly. "What is it?"

You munch the inside of your cheek nervously. "You can not tell me if you don't want to. But… what happened earlier today? That family meeting, I mean. Is there anything I need to know?"

The carefree glint in his eyes immediately disappears. Jimin looks down at his feet. "Oh."

An uncomfortable silence settles between you, only the sounds of the ocean and voices from the other people at the pier lingering. It makes you regret making that question as soon as the words leave your mouth. "You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You say hesitantly after a few seconds. 

"No, it's alright." Jimin reassures, but he's still staring at his feet. He sighs and shakes his head. It's so painful to see him sulking this way whenever his family is mentioned… "Basically, they called me to say that Eunbi's parents are pissed about us."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" You came prepared to be hated by Jimin's parents, but Eunbi's as well? Shit. As if one billionaire middle aged couple of enemies wasn't enough.

"Really." Jimin nods. You have finally reached the stairs that lead to the street level. This pier is within the resort's property, actually, so you're not that far from the bungalows, and the main building is just a few streets ahead. "They came thinking that the engagement was already settled. Without asking for our opinions, you know. They think that bringing you here is disrespectful to their daughter."

"Oh." You knit your eyebrows. "So… they don't care if you're in an actual relationship. They'd want you to break up so you can get married to someone you barely know… even if you weren't aware of the engagement?"

"Yep. That's exactly how they think." He sighs heavily. 

You go up the stairs in silence. Your brain is working furiously. "This won't put you into real trouble, right?"

Jimin chuckles. "Y/N, the whole point of bringing you here was to put me in trouble. I want to stress them. Just don't worry too much, okay? Worrying will give you wrinkles, and you have to look wonderful tonight."

You're finally standing on the sidewalk, where one of the Park family butlers already waits to take you both back to the bungalow (he's wearing a short sleeved dress shirt, at least. Poor butlers, having to wear suits in the summer!). Your stomach twirls in nervousness. Spending the afternoon so freely made you forget for a bit your actual purpose here.

"You go without me, pretty. I'll get ready at Jungkook's place." 

You turn to him, frowning in a confused expression. "What? Why?"

The happy gleam in his eyes comes back slowly as he steps closer. "I already explained that today is a little more serious, right? More guests arrived, we have to impress people… so I hired a team to take care of you. Hairstylist, makeup artist and stuff. They're already waiting for you."

"Oh." You feel your face burning for some reason. It should be expected of him to do something like that - even obvious, since all the socialites attending are probably getting the same treatment - but still, you can't help but feel a little flustered. "Okay." You change the weight of your body from one leg to another nervously. "So… see you later, I guess?"

Jesus Christ.

He's doing it again.

Standing directly in front of you with his hands behind his back, a mysterious lip tightened smile and mischief in his eyes, watching your every movement with amusement. If your face was hot a few seconds ago, now your entire body is feverish. Will you ever get used to this? The things Jimin makes you feel without even touching you are kind of amazing. Imagine when he actually touch you the way you want the most-

Hey, pervert. Stop.

"I think I've said this a hundred times already… but it's kinda rude to just stand and stare at people." You say, eyebrows knitted - but you can't manage to sound annoyed at all.

Jimin smirks.

"I want to kiss you."

You're so taken aback that your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Don't huh at me." He steps even closer - so close that you feel the heat emanating from his body. He rests his hand in the junction of your jaw and your neck, spreading even more heat from that spot. You don't push him away. All this heat is going to make you melt like a popsicle. "Don't try to look innocent right now. You shoved your tongue in my throat not long ago, missy." 

You giggle, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I already said… I was just method acting."

"Hmm." Jimin nods slowly, biting his bottom lip. The sight makes you weak on the knees. "Sure. So, me kissing you right now means I'm method acting because one of the butlers is watching and we can't look suspicious around them, okay? Because they're my parents' eyes and ears, okay? Not because I want to kiss you." His voice gets lower as he leans in, a faked innocent expression that has you smiling and melting at the same time. "Just to make it clear so there's no misunderstanding. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod.

"Good. I'd hate if you got it all wrong."

Your giggle is muffled by his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively rest on each side of his waist, while he cups your face with both hands. Oh God… his plump lips are addicting. This kiss is slower and somehow more peaceful than the one you shared in the sea, but it makes your heart race and your senses go crazy nevertheless. Your lips move slowly, in sync with his. You can feel him smiling within the kiss, which causes your knees to feel even weaker. 

He breaks the kiss not too long after, aware that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but not taking his hands off of you. Yet again, he bites his bottom lip, analyzing your features carefully. "Hari will be there. You'll have a lot of territory to mark. Be ready."

You throw your head back, laughing. "Sure. You really are enjoying this way too much, huh?"

"I am. Why wouldn't I?" He confesses cheekily, shrugging. He pecks your lips one last time, lingering for a little longer, before finally letting you go. "See you later, pretty."

"See you."

You hope that Jimin doesn't notice that your legs kind of forgot how to walk as you distance yourself from him towards the butler. Because yes, you feel like a poor popsicle melting under the scorching Hawaiian sun. The sun has Jimin's face, which makes you remember the Teletubbies for some reason, earning a quiet giggle from you. The butler eyes you as if you're crazy.

Maybe you are getting crazy.

But to be honest - this insanity is sweeter than any popsicle you could ever taste.

As a kid, you always fantasized about being Mia from The Princess Diaries. Call it escapism if you want - fantasizing about a perfect life while yours was awful - but it was a dream of yours. Imagine: finding out your grandmother is a queen? Going from a regular loser to a crown princess? Who wouldn't want that? 

You haven't thought of that movie in years. Now, as you stand in front of the mirror, it suddenly pops up in your head. Yes, Mia's iconic "transformation" scene.

Except you didn't think you were ugly before, which means right now, you're feeling like a literal goddess.

Maybe that's why God didn't make me rich, you think. Maybe he knew if I looked like this on a daily basis, I would be the most unbearable human being in this world.

"Did you like it?" The hairstylist, Christine, asks, eyeing you expectantly. 

If I liked it?! I look like the hottest bitch you'll ever see in your life! 

But instead of letting everyone see your God complex, you just nod and smile politely. "I loved it!"

Your eyes focus on the mirror again.

Jimin suggested you'd both wear black tonight as an evil joke. Traditionally, the dinner followed by the private concert is a more "informal" event, so everyone should dress accordingly with colorful outfits (you're in Hawaii, after all). Let's wear black. It represents me grieving my freedom, he said jokingly at the mall. You chuckled and thought he was being dramatic back then, but after everything you've witnessed for the past 48 hours, you realize that Jimin wasn't really joking when he said that.

The Yves Saint Lauren dress you two picked is quite simple: a short, strapless and sleeveless dress with a straight neckline. It's perfectly balanced between sexy and elegant: it enhances your curves the right amount, not enough to be considered vulgar by the aunties. Although it's strapless, it doesn't squeeze your boobies up so the uncles won't get "distracted" (ew). It's so simple but fits your body so well that you can't help but stare at your own reflection in awe. Simple black Givenchy sandals complete the outfit. 

Being a (poor) fashion enthusiast, this whole experience is like heaven to you. One thing is to see new collections and judge new trends; another completely different thing is to get to wear a piece from a high fashion house. It's not only about prices and status. This dress is so well cut and woven that it seems to be alive, as if it knows where to be tight and where to be loose. 

Doing your own makeup and hair was never a problem and you could do a pretty good job by yourself, but professionals doing it is on another level. Christine styled your hair back, carefully parting it and tucking it behind your ears, so your face is highlighted. Marco (the makeup artist) made your skin look impeccable, as smooth as baby butt cheeks (it's crazy how makeup can lie, huh?); the winged eyeliner, albeit simple, enhances the natural shape of your eyes. The lashes are subtle and make your eyes appear bigger. He completed the look by placing tiny little glitter dots under the waterline, one for each eye, so they kinda look like shiny tears (you suggested it, by the way, being carried away by the whole "grieving" concept. Talk about drama). He chose a lipstick color close to the natural color of your lips, making them appear shiny, plump and healthy.

And finally - the jewelry.

Mr. Zhou arrived at the bungalow a few minutes ago, carrying a leather, medium sized suitcase. You greet each other politely. Jimin texted saying that he would bring the jewelry you'd wear tonight - and you were anxious all along, because while you planned the outfits, he had already said you'd wear jewelry, but he didn't tell which jewelry; didn't show a single photo of what you'd wear, simply asked you to trust him. Although you learned to trust his fashion sense pretty fast, you don't like surprises at all. What if it's something extravagant that would ruin the look?

"Mr. Jimin picked those pieces from the Park jewelry collection himself," Mr. Zhou explains as he puts white gloves on (oh shit - this is so expensive that he has to wear gloves to touch it?!). "He said they would suit you fine - and I agree."

The chief butler opens the suitcase and takes the biggest black velvet case from inside, opening it.

It takes all of your self control not to gasp.

It's a gorgeous diamond necklace (yes, diamonds, fucking real diamonds!); it looks like a thick chain, actually, and at the center of it, sits a bigger emerald (yes, an emerald, a fucking real emerald!). Inside the box there are also subtle emerald earrings framed by tiny diamonds; since the necklace is already too much, the earrings have to be subtle to accompany them.

“I present you The Serpent’s Eye.” Mr. Zhou explains eloquently. “Tiffany & Co., designed by Paloma Picasso and acquired by the Park family in 2006.” He takes the necklace from the velvet case carefully. "If you'll allow me…" 

"Of course." You say, turning around and facing the mirror again - but you do so hesitantly, because being the fashion enthusiast you are, you recognize the name Paloma Picasso, and the fact that you’re about to have one of her original designs around your neck scares you. You’ve been very well aware that every piece of clothing you wear is worth thousands, but these pieces must be worth much more than everything else combined.

Mr. Zhou stands behind you and places the necklace around your neck, the cool touch of metal and diamonds making you shiver. The necklace sits just above your collarbones. The name of the design is understandable - it indeed resembles a small snake tangled around your neck. He also helps you put the small earrings on.

Finally, Mr. Zhou steps aside. 

"You look astonishing, Miss. Y/N," he says, and honestly, he sounds like he means it.

Yeah, I do, it’s what you want to say - but instead, you say “Thank you.”

It’s exactly what Jimin intended: elegance. If you’re too extravagant, his parents would hate it, and it’d make you look cheap no matter how expensive your clothes actually are. If it’s too simple, it’d look like you have no fashion sense. This look is the perfect balance. Your natural beauty is the focus, everything else just meant to highlight you. 

You look like a celebrity.

You look like them. Like someone’s rich daughter. And yes, it’s conflicting, because you never wanted to look like them - but you can’t deny that you like what you see in the mirror. 

You understand Jimin better now. Of course - he's an old money child, he doesn't know any lifestyle other than this. You're just having a little taste of what this life is. Yet, you can understand why he's so desperate to not lose his portion of the Park family fortune. Who wouldn't want to live such a lavish life? Who wouldn't want to look their absolute best at any opportunity, to wear clothes worth thousands just because they can?

Mr. Zhou looks at the watch on his wrist. “Now that you’re ready, I should take you to the event hall as soon as possible.” 

“Am I late?” You ask in a worried tone.

“Fashionably late. I’m sure everyone will understand. It takes time to look your best.” Mr. Zhou reassures. Why is he being so nice today? “I will wait for you outside, Miss Y/N.”

You nod. As Christine and Marco pack their things, you don’t forget to thank them over and over again for their wonderful job. They seem like pretty nice people, actually, and you'd like to get to know them better, but you have no time to. Two other butlers will assist their exit. You take the small black clutch that literally can only fit your phone and a small lipgloss before walking out of the bungalow where Mr. Zhou already waits.

No golf car today. Instead, that same Mercedes Maybach from yesterday is parked outside. Mr. Zhou politely opens the door for you and helps you get inside the car before taking his place on the driver's seat.

Another wave of nervousness hits your stomach as he turns the car on and finally starts making his way towards the hall - a separate building within the hotel's property, sitting in front of the ocean, not far from the pier. The ride will take probably 5 minutes. You exhale heavily, checking yourself again with the front camera, before tapping Jimin's contact.

you: i'm coming

He replies almost instantly:

jimin: waiting for you outside

Oh. You didn't think he'd already be there. You put the phone inside the clutch again and look out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Are you nervous, Miss Y/N?" Mr. Zhou asks out of sudden, snapping you back to reality. He keeps the formal tone; his voice is soothing.

"A little bit, I'll admit." You say with a lip tightened smile.

"Tonight, you'll be meeting Jimin's parents' close friends and allies from other companies." He continues. He always speaks as if he's picking his words carefully. "It's quite important to them. It's not just a celebratory event, you see… they reassure their place within society and business today."

You frown slightly. 

Mr. Zhou never talked this much. Although he keeps that formal persona, you see that he's trying to tell you something very specific, just avoiding the direct words to do so.

And yes, you get the message.

"You don’t need to worry, Mr. Zhou.” You say, crossing your arms, your expression hardening like stone in seconds. “I won’t embarrass the Park family in front of their friends.”

You see the butler nodding. “You’re smart.” He remarks. “Intelligence is important if you want to be accepted in the family.”

I would never in a million years want to be part of this family, you think. Instead, you just gulp and grip your arms, trying to ease the growing anger.

Finally, he parks in front of the events building. Yet, instead of immediately going out - and stopping you from opening the door yourself, since you’re already annoyed, Mr. Zhou turns around on his seat to look at you directly.

His expression is serious.

“I don’t want you to take my words badly, Miss Y/N.” He says in a quiet, yet stern voice. “I have been watching over this family even before Jimin was born. I know each of them very well, and I know how dysfunctional they are. When I say you have to be smart around them and watch yourself very carefully, I don’t say it to belittle you; I say it because I know what they would be capable of doing if you offend them somehow.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You lean forward a bit, getting defensive. “Did they tell you to threaten me?”

“No.” His voice and expression don’t change despite your obvious outrage. “I am warning you because I see that you’re not quite aware of the type of people you’re dealing with. And because you seem like a respectable young lady.” Mr. Zhou’s eyes soften a bit. “I see that Jimin likes you a lot. I’m not quite sure of what your relationship with him really is, and I’d be happy if it’s genuine, because he really needs it in his life. But I know Jimin very well…” Mr. Zhou tilts his head to the side, frowning a bit. “...and I’d hate it if you're somehow harmed because of his immaturity.”

He sends a last significant gaze before finally opening the door.

You just have these short seconds to recover your breath before he opens the door for you. Shit. What he said actually gets you. Call it naivety or whatnot - but you didn’t stop to consider that Jimin’s parents are actually powerful people that could mess up your life if you annoy them enough. But… Jimin wouldn’t have asked for your help if he knew his parents would try anything serious against you, right?

Mr. Zhou knows Jimin better than you do and he just called him immature.

Oh shit.

The butler opens the door and offers his hand for you to walk out of the car. Now, you’re not just nervous - you’re worried. 

Thankfully, the temperature dropped - it's still considerably hot, but much more comfortable than hours ago. You stand up, inhaling the fresh nightly air, and look at the gigantic building in front of you. Important events happen here quite frequently. Large marble stairs lead to the entrance of the hall. There is a gathering of women and men dressed elegantly slowly making their ways inside, greeting each other politely as they walk in, as well as many security guards. You stand on the sidewalk and nervously look around, searching for Jimin.

You spot him before he spots you.

He's standing at the corner, kind of hidden, close to the first steps, absently checking his phone. You already knew what he would be wearing tonight, but to see him in the outfit makes your brain malfunction. 

Obviously, Jimin wears all black: a silk turtleneck under a black glitter Louis Vuitton blazer that fits him marvelously. The turtleneck is tucked into the dress pants. On his feet, leather black boots. His hair is pushed back, a single strand falling on his forehead, and he uses a pair of shades to complete the look. Instead of the usual dangly earrings, he wears small hoops tonight that match the outfit very well. Once again, you're left astonished at how this man is doing basically nothing - just standing there with one of his hands tucked inside the front pocket of his pants, checking his phone with a blank expression - but Gosh, he's gorgeous. His posture is perfect: he has the elegance of a swan, the grandeur of an eagle, and the confident gaze of a tiger about to slash you to pieces. In fact, he looks so good that you even forget the short talk you had with Mr. Zhou a minute ago.

It takes him around three seconds to lift his gaze from the phone and spot you.

It's funny, because you see the exact moment he freezes.

The shades slide down the bridge of his nose. He looks at you with slightly widened eyes and parted lips. It's like he's in shock.

Then, a smile breaks its way and lightens his face.

Jimin shoves the phone inside the pocket of his pants and rushes to you in a second. Nervousness bubbles within your stomach at every step he takes. It doesn’t help that he walks with the stance of a model - he’s definitely doing this on purpose. Handsome men that know they are handsome are the most dangerous type. Jimin is not only very well aware of his appearance, he uses it to his advantage all the time. 

And when he stops in front of you, checking you out from head to toe - it’s like you can’t even breathe.

It’s a different feeling from yesterday. There’s no playfulness in his eyes at all. Only that same electricity hanging in the air you felt earlier today at the yacht - when you sat on his lap, when you kissed. This electricity is getting more and more intense, it’s like you’ll start seeing sparks around you at any moment. Fuck, he didn’t even touch you yet. You don’t know how much longer you can resist…

Honestly, you’re not sure if you want to keep resisting at this point.

Jimin takes your hand and makes you twirl around, earning a soft giggle from you. He bites his bottom lip, that mischievous smirk making you feel weak on the knees.

“Just so you know,” he says in a low voice, putting his hand on your waist, “If I make a fool of myself in front of everyone, I’m blaming you. Because I won’t be paying attention to anything else tonight.”

You giggle again, tentatively touching the lapel of his blazer. It’s beautifully embroidered with circular patterns; you can only see them if you stand close enough, though. Your sight lingers on his lips (for long seconds; they’re so plump and glossy and delicious) before you look into his eyes again. “I could say the same thing, Mr. Park.”

Jimin’s smirk widens and he tilts his head to the side. “I knew The Serpent’s Eye would suit you.” He touches the necklace with his fingertips. The action makes you gulp - this necklace seems to weigh tons and you’ve been painfully aware of it all the time, your anxious brain already making up scenarios of you losing the millionaire design and Jimin’s parents making you pay with your life. 

“Why did you choose it, by the way?” You quirk one eyebrow up in a teasing expression. “Are you calling me a snake? Should I be offended?”

Jimin chuckles. “Of course not. Serpents are astute and smart animals… just like you.” Sir, the actual smooth person here is you, not me. “Not everyone can pull off such an aggressive design. I knew none of my mother’s friends would dare to choose it.”

Jimin hooks your arm around his and slowly starts to guide you towards the stairs. “So your mom lets her friends borrow her jewelry?” You ask. 

“From the family collection, yes.” Jimin nods in a gracious movement. “The most expensive pieces, only to the closest and most important guests. It’s a sign of trust and respect.”

“But your mother surely doesn’t respect me.” You say between gritted teeth, aware of the people around you. 

“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word about it. It’d be weird if the guests noticed that her daughter-in-law isn’t wearing one of the pieces. Like I told you… this event is about appearances. She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect.”

Daughter-in-law. This makes you shiver. You've been her fake in law for barely 48 hours and it already feels like hell. Imagine being her real in law… Jieun must’ve done some awful things in her past life to deserve this, honestly.

You’re forced to pay attention to your real surroundings before you can overthink more, though, when you realize you’re the center of attention.

This is probably the closest you’ll ever feel to being a celebrity. It’s not unusual to be the center of attention when it’s your birthday, for example. But this… this feels different. You don’t know most of these people, just some familiar faces from earlier today - yet, it seems that they already know you, they measure you up and down, they smile and greet you before you can. Sure… your arm is hooked with one of this event’s hosts, the Park’s youngest son. Yet, you see that people are also actually seeing you. You’re not just Jimin’s accessory.

Is this good? You’re not sure. This means they’ve heard from you somehow. In the span of less than 48 hours, these unknown people have been talking about you.

They approach you with curious smiles; they greet you and Jimin, make some shallow - almost diplomatic - comment about the weather or how long they haven’t seen Jimin or about the outfits or I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N! (how the hell did they hear a lot about you in such a short time, though?) or you make a gorgeous couple! (you know they’re not lying about this bit; you do look gorgeous). They do not look at you disapprovingly, so you can confirm that the outfit choice was indeed appropriate for the event, albeit dramatic.

“You’re great at this, did you know that?” Jimin compliments after yet another middle aged couple walks away, leaning a bit closer to your ear so only you can hear. “You even remember their names.”

“I have a good memory,” you say between a gritted-teeth smile. “Also, working on customer service teaches you a few things.”

“Really? You weren’t this charming when we met at that convenience store.” He says in a teasing way, cocking an eyebrow up.

“First of all, I met you sitting on the floor behind a fridge. You looked like a freak.” He lets a giggle at that. “Second, I’ve moonlighted as a waitress many times. And event hostess. Never any event of this level, of course.” 

The last sentence was spoken in a quieter tone. Once again, you’re a bit scared of how Jimin - and everyone else - don’t seem to be bothered by the absolutely luxurious environment around. The immense hall is decorated in similar white and cream tones from the dinner yesterday (there’s a reason for that; Jimin’s parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary, the Pearl anniversary, apparently). Even waiters and waitresses, walking around with silver platters in hands and pretty smiles on their faces, wear cream uniforms. There are literal cascades of white lilies and roses so beautifully entangled that you’re intrigued at how they managed to arrange that. The round dinner tables are also decorated with white flowers at the center. There is a massive ice sculpture of an open oyster with a pearl in it at the entrance of the hall; the presence of pearls and oysters is almost everywhere in the decoration. The hostesses and waitresses even have small oyster shaped pins on their hair. At the very front, there is a stage; it’s barely lit yet, but you can see musicians discreetly preparing their instruments for the concert later. Professional photographers walk around the hall, recording and taking pictures of anything remarkable.

It’s jaw-dropping.

You feel weird inside.

It doesn’t matter that you look like them; you don’t feel like them. You don’t belong in this place, and it feels that everyone will notice it too if you do the slightest thing wrong. It’s clear in the way you’re astonished (outraged) at how someone can spend so much money on flowers (do you even know how much a single bouquet costs? Can you imagine thousands of flowers?!) while these people walk around with hundreds of thousands of dollars hanging from their ears or around their necks, and to them it’s just another weekend.

Oh boy. Mr. Zhou was kinda right. You will have to be very careful not to embarrass Jimin or his family in front of these people.

You walk around with your arm hooked around Jimin’s for a while, making silly small talk with the guests. Jimin quietly whispers who they are and their importance as they approach. It’s always some over the top shit like Biggest LG Shareholder or Co-Founder of This Very Famous Car Brand or CEO of This Very Rich Food Company and it makes your stomach drop every time. It seems that half of the country’s GDP is hanging around in this hall. A bunch of old guys with their (1) same age, but full of obvious cosmetic procedure wives or (2) much younger wives that of course married them out of true love.

Jimin complimented you earlier, but it’s him who deserves the most compliments. He’s really good at this. It’s so easy for him to engage in a superficial but polite conversation. Hello! I acknowledge your presence here! I am thankful that you came but I do not care enough to talk more than two minutes with you! Yes the weather is nice! See you later! All that with the prettiest smile and most genuine fake laughter you’ve ever seen (sounds contradictory but that’s exactly that). And they all fall for that. He’s so unbearably charming.

Which makes you wonder.

Jimin said that the whole purpose of bringing you to Hawaii was to upset his parents. But… he’s not really acting like someone willing to do that. Of course - maybe he knows that if he goes too far, his parents might really cut him off of their sweet sweet money fountain. Yet, it doesn’t match with what he stated earlier. Does he really want to piss his parents off? Or does he want to play the good boy so his parents leave him alone with this engagement thing? Those are opposites, he can’t want both.

Does he even know what he wants?

You’re unsure.

Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have accepted this insanity, the little anxious voice in your head says. Maybe he really is too immature and is about to fuck me up. 

Jimin gives a little pat on the hand that holds his arm and smiles. 

“We’re doing really well, pretty. I’m relieved that you’re here.” He says quietly. “This kind of event always stresses me out, but you’re making this easier.”

Don’t go around saying cute shit like that while I doubt you!

You avoid his gaze and sip a little bit more of the champagne you picked earlier from a waiter. “It doesn’t look like you’re stressed at all.” He shrugs.

“I’m method acting, too. Kinda used to it at this point.”

And there it is. That quiet sadness in his eyes.

Goddamnit.

All the questions in your head crumble to the ground, and you immediately want to comfort him like a baby.

That’s not a baby. It’s a grown ass man. Get yourself together. 

The voice in your head is angrier now - and she’s kinda right, to be honest.

Jimin sighs and pats your hand again. 

“Okay, we’ve wandered around enough. Food will be served soon… so we have to get seated.” He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t despise the idea of having to sit with his family for another torturously long dinner. 

“Okay.” You nod, placing the now empty champagne glass on another waiter’s platter. You inhale, trying to gather more confidence. “Let’s go.”

So, you start walking towards the table at the front of the stage - the most important one where everyone can see from all directions. 

They’re already there, surrounded by their closest friends.

At every step, you try to gather more and more anger within yourself - this anger will fuel your confidence and muffle the nervousness (in theory). Fuck this middle aged billionaire couple. Fuck their matching cream outfits - Mr. Park Hyunjun wears a very traditional (read: boring) cream suit, while Mrs. Park Eunji wears a long, flowy dress with blue details in it and beautifully embroidered with silver patterns that seem to remember a soft breeze. A beautiful pearl necklace adorns her neck and modest cleavage. Their outfits are very “age appropriate” and posh, indeed, and they are an attractive couple, but everything about them is so painfully traditional.

Also fuck the way they look at you two with disapproval.

Another nauseatingly fake scene unfolds in front of your eyes - Mrs. Eunji giggles and side hugs Jimin, gushing over how handsome he looks (she can’t hide the obvious distaste for his black outfit, though). 

“What an… interesting choice,” she says, touching the embroidery on his blazer with her fingertips. “Rather dramatic, I’d say.”

Jimin smiles. “Everyone looks good in black, you know. Also, I didn’t want to stand out.” 

Bullshit. No one else is wearing black because it goes against the dress code. The way he said it so innocently would make any unsuspecting ears believe him, but his mom is certainly not one of those - neither are you. 

“Of course, black can make anyone look presentable at least. Y/N is live proof, isn’t she?”

She eyes you from head to toe and smiles sweetly.

Holy fucking shit. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

Her tone. The way she looks at you. Her awful Tom Ford perfume that makes you want to vomit as she approaches and - gasp - side hugs you too, like a good and loving mother-in-law. You smile and give her some soft pats on her back, but God, you can’t act as well as her at all - although you force yourself to do your best, well aware that all eyes and ears are focused on the Park family.

“You look astonishing tonight, Mrs. Park,” you say between gritted teeth. “This color really suits you.” Cream is boring. Like old paper. You almost smell like mold, too, rattlesnake.

“I’m glad you think so.” She’s not glad you think so. “See, me and Elie spent a long time choosing the color palette for this dress… he did such a wonderful job in the end.” She widens her eyes slightly. “Oh! My apologies, you can’t possibly know who I’m talking about…”

“Elie Saab.” You promptly say. Of course Elie Saab himself designed a dress for her. “Yes, I know his work.”

“Really?” She raises one eyebrow and this small movement spreads anger through your system. So much disdain, and she just said a word. “I didn’t think you’d know such a highly regarded fashion house, since you seem so… humble.” She has the audacity to eye you up and down with disgust again. “A wonderful trait to have, you see! Our Jimin definitely needs someone in his life to teach him some humility.”

In all honesty, you don’t even know how to respond to this.

Your wanted reaction is to reach for the nearest fork and stab her face with it. Which is, unfortunately, socially inappropriate. You also think of calling her by the ugliest names in existence, which, unfortunately is also socially inappropriate (won’t take you to jail, at least).

But all you can do is keep that smile plastered on your face and anger in your eyes.

This level of contempt is not unusual. 

Alpha High taught you to get used to it. The giggles, side glances, or straight up offenses spoken out loud so everyone could laugh at your expense, too. It taught you to accept it silently, because you knew no one would stand up for you; you didn’t have enough money or a heavy surname to back you up. You weren’t important enough. Who cared if you had an excellent academic performance? It wasn’t as cool as having a summer manor in Greece anyway.

You hate that no clever response comes to your mind. You hate that you can just stand there and awkwardly look at her - this woman that made you feel cheap even though you have diamonds sitting around your neck. You hate that, deep down, you’re feeling as cornered as you were as a defenseless fifteen year old standing on the school hallway.

Not a fun feeling at all.

And things just start getting progressively worse.

Before even Jimin gets time to say something, another couple approaches - and your blood freezes. You’ve seen them yesterday at the reception dinner and earlier today, now feeling a little stupid that you didn’t make the simple connection. They’re followed shortly by another person, a much familiar and hated face. 

Eunbi’s parents, apparently; Mr. and Mrs. Jeong.

Now that you look at the three of them, the silly part of your brain wonders who Eunbi inherited her beauty from, because they don’t share much of it with her, let’s say. They’re impeccably well dressed, of course, but their daughter’s beauty steals all the attention. She wears a rosé pink minidress (is it MiuMiu?) with a straight neckline and thin straps. On her ears, diamond earrings that seem to resemble raindrops; around her neck, a diamond choker necklace. Everything combed with the subtle makeup gives her a young, cute look.

You measure each other up and down like two rival lions about to fight. Complete opposites, black and pink. 

The tension is so extreme that it’s almost visible - like some kind of fog.

Jimin is the one to break the ice, stepping closer to greet the couple, and you do the same, glad that you don’t have to look at Mrs. Rattlesnake even for five seconds - though this other lady also hates you, apparently. It’s kind of amazing how Jimin can act like the heavy tension isn’t there at all.

The seven of you stand there smiling for long and silent five seconds. It looks like a smiling contest. You can’t tell who’s angrier.

“So… Y/N, right?” Mrs. Jeong says. She looks like an eggplant, some part of your brain remarks silently, almost making you (very inappropriately) giggle. “It’s such a surprise that you and our Eunbi were classmates. We would’ve never guessed.”

If that’s even possible - your anger levels increase. It might’ve sounded like a pretty normal thing to say, but her tone and the way she measured you up and down makes it clear that what she really meant was we would’ve never guessed that a nobody like you also studied in Alpha High.

“We were surprised, too.” Eunbi says before you can, smiling sweetly. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“This is a great excuse for you to come with us to a day at the Spa tomorrow, isn’t it, Mrs. Park?” Eunbi’s mom says, eyeing the other woman knowingly.

“Of course! Y/N and Eunbi must have a lot to catch up after all these years, right? Y/N, you have to come with us tomorrow.” Rattlesnake hisses- (oops) says.

You look at the two other women with uneasiness.

First of all, this doesn’t sound like an invite, but a summon. You simply know you can’t say no. Second of all - these three despise you, they wouldn’t want you there if they didn’t have second intentions. What do they actually want?

You want to say no thanks, but it feels like you’re handcuffed in this situation.

“Sure. It sounds refreshing,” you finally agree with a painful smile. It didn’t even happen yet, but you know tomorrow is already ruined. Don’t let these bastards get to your head, your inner voice advises; don’t show weakness. You can deal with them.

Yeah, right.

You notice that, surprisingly, Eunbi looks very uncomfortable with the whole idea; she avoids her mother’s gaze and looks down, smile faltering a bit. She doesn’t want to be around you as much as you don’t want to be around her, apparently. At least you can agree on something.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Park stepping closer once again, placing his hand on his wife’s back. “Dear, dinner’s ready and about to be served. We should take our places.” 

“Of course. I’m sure all of us are hungry enough.” She turns around to the other guests to announce it loudly, and somehow all the nearly one hundred people manage to hear it, walking to their respective seats.

Respective seats.

The seats are all charted - something you only saw in movies before, but you should’ve expected it at this point. Coming closer to the round table, you notice that over every beautiful white and blue porcelain plate, there is an elegant tag name in golden lettering on top of it. Mr. and Mrs. Park; Hyungsik and his wife sit by Mr. Park’s seat, while Jimin’s place is by his mother…

And by Jimin’s seat…

You freeze. Jimin freezes, too.

Jeong Eunbi’s name tag.

Feeling your stomach drop, you look around, searching for your own name tag - but there’s none to be seen, and it’s getting increasingly embarrassing as everyone else sits down while you and Jimin remain standing.

Your throat gets dry.

“She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect,” Jimin said as you walked inside the hall. This made you think she wouldn’t want to embarrass you.

Oh, Jimin. How wrong you were.

“Hm, there must be a mistake.” Jimin speaks up. The smile is still there, but his eyes hardened and his breath gets deeper as the visible anger fills him. “Where is Y/N’s seat?”

“Oh! Jimin, dear… this is a bit unpleasant,” his mother says, stepping closer with clasped hands and (fake) apologetic eyes. “You know that we planned this event months prior… the charting was already made long ago. We didn’t know Y/N would be here today. Unfortunately, there was no time to tell the catering staff to provide one more seat at our table.”

Funny how your legs start feeling cold all of sudden.

It’s the second time you’re at a loss of words tonight, this time much worse than before. You grip Jimin’s arm just a little tighter, feeling how the situation is starting to get people’s attention. Mrs. Park isn’t trying to be quiet right now. Your legs are cold, but your neck and face suddenly warm up with embarrassment as the guests on the main table whisper among each other in confusion.

“We found a vacant seat, of course, right over there, Y/N,” Mrs. Park continues - for fuck’s sake, she just continues - pointing over to the other side of the hall. “With the Kim family. You’ll love them, I know it!”

Your brain can’t process a coherent sentence. 

With the corner of your eye, you notice Eunbi standing a few steps away awkwardly. She has the decency to look embarrassed, at least. Everyone else at the table is already seated.

You’re… you’re supposed to be their daughter-in-law. Their younger son’s girlfriend, the first girl he ever brought over. Yet… they refuse to let you sit by Jimin’s side on the main table, the hosts table, and want you to sit alone on the back so they can set up Jimin and Eunbi. And they’re doing it publicly.

This is the type of humiliation you wouldn’t expect from an adult, a mature person. But it’s happening nevertheless, and you want to sink and disappear. You can’t think of a quirky comeback, a way out that would make you feel less humiliated - even though Jimin isn’t even your real boyfriend and these people aren’t your real in-laws. This trip feels like a mistake, like a bad idea, like Mr. Zhou was absolutely right in his warning.

You’re so overwhelmed by this sour feeling that you don’t notice how Jimin’s smile disappears.

He sighs heavily, looking at his feet, jaw clenched.

“Okay.” He looks up at you - and you’re taken aback, because you’ve never seen Jimin angry before. “Y/N, let’s go back to our room.”

And he starts walking away, taking you along by the hand.

“What? Jimin- where’re you going?” Mrs. Park says, making Jimin stop. “Dinner’s about to be served.”

You see the warning in her eyes and gritted teeth and hardened smile, but for once, Jimin doesn’t play along. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak louder, but when he does speak, it’s in a hard and serious tone.

“If Y/N doesn’t have a place here, neither do I. I don’t see why we should stay in this situation.” He doesn’t bother to whisper, aware that he has the table’s attention. “Now, if you’ll excuse us...” 

Oh shit. He’s angry and offended. Jimin turns around again, holding your hand tightly. 

In the midst of all the bad feelings, this is so satisfying. You’re simply happy that Jimin didn’t leave you on your own, didn’t lower his head to his parents. He stood up for you and is genuinely pissed! His mother is still babbling - she for sure didn’t expect Jimin to want to leave like this - and even Mr. Park got up from his seat; Eunbi is pale, her parents watch in disapproval, similar to Jimin’s older brother, who glares at him as if he did something wrong.

“Wait, Jimin, please,” someone else says, which catches both yours and Jimin’s attention: Mr. Hwang. He’s gotten up and looks between you and Mrs. Park cautiously. “I am sure we can solve this situation very easily. There’s no need to miss this amazing night.”

Mrs. Hwang also gets up; her eyes are widened with worry and an uneasy smile. “I am sure everyone at this table can move a little so Y/N can sit with us.” Murmurs of agreement echo around, much to the Park’s displeasure. “Waiter, please? Could you assist us?”

You and Jimin eye each other as Mrs. Hwang politely asks a nearby waiter to bring another chair, while the guests start getting up with no protest to open a little spot by Jimin’s side. In no time, there is one more chair at the table; another waitress hushes to bring a new set of plates and cutlery. 

“See? It’s done! Not a big problem at all.” Mr. Hwang says happily; the guests at the table also seem content. 

“I guess we can all sit now, right, Jimin?” His wife says. “We all would hate it if this lovely young lady missed the concert.” And to your surprise - the table agrees.

You look at Jimin again. He doesn’t look happy - not at all - but it seems that he softened up a bit because of the Hwang couple; same goes for you. If this was a competition for Best Middle Aged Couple, the Hwangs would’ve won it by far.

He raises an eyebrow at you - a question. You shrug and nod in small movements. Although you’d rather not be here, at least Mrs. Park looks infuriated that her silly little plan didn’t work and she in fact caused a ridiculous scene. Her attempt at embarrassing you completely backfired.

Jimin sighs heavily and, instead of saying anything, walks back to the table once again. The guests sigh in relief; Eunbi looks even more awkward; the Parks are fuming. Jimin pushes the chair for you to sit, and as you do, a little spark of victory fills your chest. 

“I’m glad this is solved,” Mrs. Park says, glaring at you as if she wants to stab you with the nearest knife, a lip tightened smile. “I hate unforeseen events.”

You are the unforeseen event. About to be the worst she could ever imagine.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Park. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” You say sweetly. Jimin does his best not to laugh; she definitely wants to stab you. 

Me 1 x 0 Rattlesnake

A win, at last.

Everyone at the table does their best to forget The Seat Incident for the sake of a good mood. 

Lighthearted conversations. Good (amazing) food. The band plays soft background music. Understandably so, neither you and Jimin talk much - he is still visibly upset; chooses to just respond whenever someone mentions him or makes quiet comments in your ear from time to time. You, on the other hand, don’t talk much because the person sitting by your left side is Eunbi and you’d honestly rather swallow nails than willingly have a conversation with her.

All things considered, everything is going alright. They’re asking fewer questions than yesterday, which is great, so you can focus on whatever the name of this thing you’re eating is - taking small bites and chewing slowly so you don’t look impolite and desperate for food. Your stomach twirls every time you hear Jimin’s parents' voices, though, which makes you enjoy the taste less.

You’re doing great, you mentally pat yourself on the back. A few more hours and you’ll be back in your room. Just get this over with. 

After pretty much everyone is done eating - your stomach is so full that the dress becomes uncomfortably tight -, Mr. Park gets up from the chair and softly clicks the side of a knife on a crystal glass, enough to call everyone’s attention. You notice when a waiter swiftly places a mic on the table for him.

The band stops. Everyone goes silent. Mr. Park Hyunjun takes the mic, a soft smile adorning his features, as the spotlight focuses on him.

“Good evening once again, my friends.” His deep and elegant voice echoes softly through the speakers. The whole hall greets him back. “I hope everyone enjoyed this amazing dinner prepared by Chef Mauro Bianchi. Mr. Mauro, it is a pleasure to have you with us once again.”

A round of applause. An aggressively Italian man with a cook outfit politely bows and smiles as the spotlight focuses on him in the back of the hall, close to the kitchen doors. Of course Mr. Park only acknowledges the worldwide famous, I-don’t-know-how-many-Michelin-stars holder Chef, but not the entirety of the staff that helped organize and serve everyone. 

“As most of the friends present here already know, me and my dear wife prepare this event every year not only as a celebration of our union, but also as a celebration of all the many achievements and challenges we win throughout the year.” He makes a dramatic pause, his eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone is paying attention - and everyone indeed is; despite your hatred for the man, you can’t deny that with this level of oratory, he could’ve easily been a news anchor.

He offers his hand to help his wife get up from the chair as another round of applause echoes. Mrs. Rattlesnake has a pretty smile, you have to admit. Once again - yeah, they do look great together, and otherwise you’d think this is all too sweet, but there’s just something inherently wrong with this scene… too poised, robotic - trained to detail.

“And past year was indeed one of the most significant of our lives. After much work, Aurum ranked fifth place as one of the biggest steel companies in the world. We’ve achieved heights my parents would’ve never imagined.” He continues. More applause. What does it even have to do with his marriage? “Unity. This is the word for our 30th anniversary. Everything we’ve made and built, we did together - and I’m sure we wouldn’t have gotten this far if we were apart.” Oh, so your fortune was “achieved” because of your wife? I thought it was because of the already rich company your dad left on your hands. 

“And the oyster, my friends, is the perfect symbol of unity; it summons up our life as a couple very well.” He looks at his wife sweetly. You have trouble telling if Mrs. Rattlesnake’s glossy eyes are fake or not. “An oyster. Two shells, pressed together - working together to create the most beautiful pearl. And our pearls, our jewels - the biggest gift this marriage brought us both - is our two sons.”

My God.

You want to vomit.

The applause is a bit louder now as the spotlight focuses on both Jimin and Hyungsik. Both of them smile and wave to the public. If you hadn’t spent the most uncomfortable hours of your life around this family, you would’ve fallen for Mr. Park’s sweet words - but hell no. I mean, it might be true about Hyungsik - but Jimin? The dear son they very publicly disrespected only barely an hour ago, by ignoring his partner? The dear son they mock constantly, scold, disrespect, and want to force into an arranged marriage against his will?

These people genuinely make you sick.

You’re a bit surprised as Jimin grabs your hand under the tablecloth, where no one can see. You take it and squeeze softly. He wants to vomit as much as you do.

“You two are live proof of our love, and we are so proud to know you’re our children.” The applause continues as Mr. Park speaks this time. Kind of funny how he says that while Jimin himself stated that he sees his parents once a year. That’s not the behavior of someone that cares this much. 

“Unity. Family. Love. Friendship. It’s what we’ve been harvesting together for the past 30 years, and I couldn’t be more happy and grateful.” He squeezes his wife’s hand sweetly. “Now, let us celebrate together, my dear friends.”

The lights go off while the hall applauds; the band starts playing again, way louder this time - a melody you’re familiar with - and when all the spotlights focus on the stage-

You gasp loudly.

“What the-?!” You whisper in utter shock. Jimin chuckles.

The woman standing on the stage is… is Kim Gain.

Like, why are you even surprised at this point? What, you thought the Parks would’ve hired a bar singer for their super expensive wedding anniversary? But even so, you didn’t expect to be seeing the 90s love songs’ legend Kim fucking Gain standing a few meters away from you, wearing a gorgeous long silver dress, her beautiful and powerful voice filling the hall as she sings her all-time smash hit Flower Hill. This woman doesn’t even do concerts anymore! You can’t even imagine the insane amount of money they must’ve paid her to do a private concert. 

She sings looking directly at the main couple, and God- despite the age, her voice sounds even better live than recorded. It makes you forget for a while all of tonight’s awful events. You quietly hum along to the lyrics of Flower Hill word by word - it’s impossible to not know this song, not only because it’s a classic, but because it’s your mother’s favorite song and she hammered it into your head.

Your memories are as clear as the blue sky; your mother played her CD over and over again - this song specifically - while she prepared lunch. You helped her peel the boiled eggs, standing on a stool so you’d get tall enough to reach the sink, while she cut cabbage swiftly. You both sang along to Flower Hill. Even your father would hum along eventually as he put the dried bowls on their respective cabinets.

It’s a good childhood memory. One of the few. You remember thinking that your mother looked so beautiful when she wasn’t frowning and angry at you.

And all of sudden - sadness hits you like a truck.

Funny how being humiliated in front of these people didn’t even get close to making you cry the way just thinking of your mother does.

You sigh and look down, that familiar heavy thing growing in your chest, stubborn tears that you blink away before they can even come. Shit shit shit. Don’t you dare to cry here, Y/N, you scold yourself harshly. But goddammit- Mrs. Kim Gain sings really well, and when the chorus hits, you always melt away.

It’s moments like this that remind you that you are, in fact, not indifferent. And you are, in fact, far more hurt that you can put into words.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s hand for comfort.

He eyes you quietly, confused - but chooses to not make any comment.

You elbow Jimin’s side, eyes squinted, as if unsure of what you’re seeing.

“What?” He asks, relaxing on the chair next to yours, now sitting on a table at the external part of the hall. Finally some cool night air; from the external part, you have a wonderful view of the immense garden that goes down the hill directly to the sea. You can see the pier down there; it’s full of parked yachts - much more than during the day - but there’s some in the distance as well, shining against the otherwise pitch black sea like little stars.

“Am I crazy,” you say after sipping more champagne from the glass, “or that’s Kim Minju?”

You discreetly point to a certain girl standing inside the hall. She’s tall and gorgeous, wearing a green sundress. You’re not really into idols - you don’t have time to keep up with celebrities at all - but even someone like you can recognize Kim Minju, the new “it” girl from the new “it” group everyone’s been talking about lately.

Jimin squints his eyes as well, and when he sees who you’re pointing at, he nods. “Yep, it’s her.”

You raise one eyebrow up. “Why are your parents friends with teenage celebrities?”

“They’re friends with her mother.” Jimin sips from his own glass of champagne. He took his blazer off and rolled the shirt up to his elbows, looking much more relaxed now that he can finally stay away from his family. 

Kim Gain finished her concert, which meant people were allowed to just hang around and talk again, while the band kept playing background music. You decided to leave the main table as soon as you could, finding this almost-hidden table at the external balcony (you’re glad it’s this hidden, because it’s getting hard to sit all lady-like with your feet hurting like this. These Givenchy sandals were way too expensive to be this uncomfortable to wear).  Jungkook was hanging out with you two minutes ago, but suddenly something “very important” happened and he had to leave (in other words: some hot girl passed by and he went after her).

“And her mother is…?”

“One of MNET’s biggest shareholders, basically. Why do you think Minju is the most popular member? Her mother pays for her to be the center, to have the best clothes… this kind of thing.” He speaks in a low voice, aware of the people around. “Most popular idols are only popular because their families pay for their popularity.”

“Oh.” Makes sense. You look him up and down, the hint of a playful smile on your lips. “You could’ve asked your parents for help in this area, Jimin. You would’ve made a great idol.”

Jimin chuckles and pushes his hair back. “I know, right? But I don’t think I would survive a day in this life. I mean- a dating ban?” He scowls. “Just no.”

You chuckle too, resting your chin on your palm. You’ve only been sipping champagne - though they’re serving other interesting drinks, too -, afraid to get even slightly intoxicated and embarrass yourself (and Jimin) in front of these people. Even so, this champagne is starting to make you feel a little funny inside. Maybe I should stop.

“How do you even know this dating ban thing is real?” You raise one eyebrow at him. Jimin huffs.

“I had a thing with this idol girl for a while.” He says nonchalantly - then interrupts himself, as if he just realized he said something he shouldn’t. He eyes you apologetically.

“I don’t care if you talk about other girls.” You assure, rolling your eyes. And you actually don’t. It’s not like you have anything real going on for you to care. (You’re quietly blaming your rage fit against Hari earlier today on the alcohol).

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why would I?”

Jimin looks at you in silence.

“Kinda hoped you’d be jealous.”

You laugh it off, furiously ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “Just tell the story, Jimin.”

He seems dramatically disappointed, which makes you giggle again. Jimin sips more champagne and tilts his head.

 “So… me and this girl. Whenever we went out together, we had to literally - I mean literally - hide. Wearing masks, sunglasses, hoodies, all this stuff. At the beginning it was kind of fun, but then it got unbearable. Her manager kept calling her all the time to know where she was. One time, a paparazzi caught us and I had to pay them a shitton of money to not release the photos.”

“Why didn’t she pay for it? Or her company?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Because her company didn’t know. She didn’t tell them, scared of getting punished or whatever. And she didn’t have the amount they asked for. So I paid for it.” He shrugs. “Then I broke up with her. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, why did I have to hide?”

“Yeah, sounds like a strict life. I don’t think I could take it, either.”

You notice the way Jimin’s eyes glint with playfulness again; a mischievous smirk adorns his lips. He comes even closer to you and looks around, making sure the people aren’t paying attention to the conversation. 

“Back on the topic of Kim Minju,” he says in that quiet tone that means gossip. “Her mother is lesbian.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really? How do you know?”

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people.” He discreetly points to an elegant woman standing near Kim Minju - maybe just a bit younger than Mrs. Park. “That one.” You squint your eyes to analyze her. “She’s been ‘single’ for around ten years, since her divorce with Minju’s father. She’s, like… the most famous closeted lesbian I’ve ever seen. In terms of how much people I know she fucked, she must be only behind Mr. Junghoon.”

Your eyes widen even more. “Jungkook’s dad?!”

Jimin nods vehemently. “Yep. He must’ve fucked at least half of this hall. All those pretty younger wives.”

You eye Junghoon - standing in the middle of the hall, laughing at something someone said. “Like father, like son, I guess.” Jimin chuckles at this. “I mean, he is very hot for his age.”

“That’s not even the craziest person here.” Jimin narrows his eyes, looking for someone into the crowd. You find yourself entertained by his sudden will to spill people’s lives on you - it even makes you forget how much your feet hurt for a while. When he finds them, he elbows your side lightly. “That couple over there? The Kwons?”

You take around three seconds to find them- a middle aged couple, a bit older than Jimin’s parents, perhaps. They seemed very polite (considering you talked for less than two minutes).

“Yeah?”

“They host massive orgies.” You look at Jimin in pure shock. He looks back at you with his eyebrows raised in that I know, girl expression. “They have a mansion in Malibu only for this purpose. They invite dozens of people to participate.”

You sip more champagne. That conservative looking couple host orgies? They look like the type of people that think women showing their ankles is a sin. Appearances really mean nothing around here! “Were you ever invited?”

“Thank God no. And I wouldn’t go anyway. Not into voyeurism.” Jimin makes a disgusted scowl. “But I know some people that went there. They’re pretty creepy, actually. Just… stay away from them, okay?”

“Noted.” You’ve watched enough documentaries about how rich people can be creepy to know Jimin isn’t kidding.

“There’s also, let’s see… oh! Jinwoo, over there.” He points to a man in his early thirties that you briefly greeted earlier today. “His marriage was arranged, too. I heard he has a severe humiliation kink. He likes to be treated like shit by women.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the bubbling giggle. Not to kinkshame anyone, but wow. “But his wife is not into it at all. From what I’ve heard, they even live in separate houses. So Jinwoo has to pay women to satisfy him.”

“I wouldn’t think that of him… he looks like the type that calls women females.” You remark. 

“People around here look nothing like they actually are.” Jimin sips more champagne. You expectantly wait for him to tell you more - (1) because you like gossiping (2) because this is the most fun you’ve had the entire night. “Oh! Minho and Krystal. Over there.”

Said couple is standing quite far, talking to Jimin’s brother and his wife. They must be in their early thirties, too; an attractive couple that haven’t stepped away from each other the whole time. You briefly remember thinking they looked cute together.

“Yeah?”

“They’re in a forced marriage, too. Minho is gay.”

You pause. “They look genuine.”

“They’re not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I met him in a bar last year in Berlin. He hit on me. Insistently. He’s friends with my brother, so I turned him down. But yeah, I saw him with other guys there.”

You look back at Minho in silence.

Oh.

This one’s kinda sad.

“So… he was forced into marrying a woman even though he’s gay.” You reason out loud. “Does his family know?”

“Probably not. At least, they pretend they don’t.” Jimin sips more champagne with a sour expression.

“That’s fucked up in so many levels.” You’re starting to get angry just talking about it. “He’s trapped with this woman, having to pretend his entire life? All for the sake of appearances? What, are we stuck in the XVIII century and nobody told me?”

“I told you that’s how things work around here.” He says, staring at the bubbles in his champagne glass.

And he actually told you. In your third encounter, back at the convenience store. But you didn’t believe him. It felt too far from your reality to be taken seriously. Now, though - after finding out that most of these pristine looking people, the “role models” of society are in secret what they most demonize - you truly realize how awful everything is. This much hypocrisy feels repulsive, overwhelming.

Is this how Jimin has been feeling his entire life?

“What about you, Jimin?” you ask quietly, any hint of playfulness gone from your face and voice.

“What about me?”

“What if you’re stuck in this situation? I mean, I remember what you told me back then. What if you want to marry a guy? Your parents would be against it… are you going to end like Minho? Having to pretend for the rest of your life? Can you accept this?”

Jimin sighs and hangs his head back, closing his eyes. You hate it because for a moment all you can look at is his half parted plump lips and your brain malfunctions for a sec.

“Let’s not talk about me, please?” He asks in a whiny, raspy voice.

“Why not? I’m worried about you. Can’t I be worried?” You put one hand on your hip, somehow starting to feel offended.

“No, you can’t.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Yeah, you’re offended now. “Okay, then. I’m sorry for caring.”

Jimin looks at you with half opened eyes.

His voice drops.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“What?” You raise one eyebrow up.

“Act like you actually care.”

“Why do you think I’m acting?” You slightly push the empty champagne glass away, so nothing is between you two. Because he’s quieter, you unconsciously drop your voice, too.

“You said so. Method acting.” 

You’re getting tired of this “method acting” thing. You inhale heavily. “Well, I’m not acting right now.”

Jimin drops his eyes to his own empty champagne glass, drumming his fingers on the table softly. He makes a small pout. His lips are so damn attractive. “You know, I’m conflicted about you.”

“Please elaborate.”

“I know I shouldn’t be expecting anything real from you at all, since I hired you to be here. But why do I feel that something real is going on?” He looks up at you again. “But then, sometimes, I feel like it’s not? I don’t know what to think of you.”

Holy Shit.

He went straight to the point.

You feel goosebumps on your spine (though you try to blame it on the cool breeze hitting your back, not on Jimin’s piercing gaze, of course). It’s kind of creepy how Jimin can balance being silly and cute in a moment and then boom - painfully straightforward a second later. He didn’t beat around the bush at all.

And yeah, you get what he meant.

You can’t tell if something real is going on. It’s way too early to say something “real” - whatever it is - is happening; you barely even know Jimin. At the same time he doesn’t know if you’re serious, you don’t know if he is being serious; many times, it feels like he’s acting, putting up a character around you. The way you’re rapidly getting attached to him is scary - what if you’re getting attached to a character? What if you’re surprised by Jimin’s real persona in the worst way possible?

You have no idea about any of that.

What you know, though - something that is very real, is almost visible - is the undeniable attraction you feel for each other.

This isn’t deep. You don’t have to think much about it.

And right now - with the alcohol subtly fogging your judgment and making you feel hot inside; the accumulated tension - you don’t really want to fight back anymore. You don’t want to think of consequences. All you can think of is his pretty plump lips.

You smirk, resting your face on your palm again. You see how this single look of yours affects him. You’re not the only one that can do this, Jimin.

“You know,” your voice is very quiet right now; half lidded eyes that stare back at him with the same intensity. “Knowing everything isn’t fun. I think it’s better this way.”

You’re still in public, but it’s like everyone else becomes distant. 

Jimin smirks, too.

“Let’s play a game, then.” He says all of sudden, getting even closer to you, on the edge of his seat. “I’ll ask a few questions. You can answer them or not.”

You feel his hand on your leg, under the tablecloth.

This makes you widen your eyes, surprised, looking around discreetly. “What are you doing?”

“You said your feet hurt, pretty.” Oh shit. That mischievous tone, playful smile, glinting eyes. You’re a popsicle melting under his heat. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to giggle, as Jimin rests your left leg over his own legs. “Free massage.”

You’re kind of hidden - your leg is fully under the tablecloth - but you still look around frantically, trying not to make any weird face. “Jimin- they’ll see us.”

Jimin clicks his tongue at the same time he swiftly unbuckles your sandal and places it on the floor. Your heart beats faster with adrenaline - if any auntie sees this, they might want to arrest me! “They’re not paying attention to us.”

Indeed, no one is. Mr. and Mrs. Park are having a dance in the center of the hall; most of the crowd surrounds them. The place became dimly lit as the spotlight focuses only on the couple as they sway to a romantic tune and everyone watches them.

You’re about to make another complaint, but as both of his hands hold your aching foot, pressing it - you have to fight back what would be an obscene moan. It feels too good. Jimin chuckles.

“So, back on the game.” It’s criminal how he acts like he’s doing nothing wrong as his hands massage your foot. “Did you want to hook up with Hoseok?”

This comes so out of the blue that you freeze. “What made you think that?”

“I saw the way you looked at each other.”

Well. It’s not like Hoseok tried to pretend when he first saw you. “No. He’s hot, but no.”

Jimin nods. He seems satisfied with the answer. His hands work around your feet miraculously, pressing on the right spots, easing the pain. 

They go a bit up. On your ankles now.

Oh God.

“Did you want to hook up with Jungkook?” Still not looking at you.

“No.” You chuckle. “What got into you? Are you jealous?”

“I don’t know, am I?” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs, making you smile. “I’d only be jealous if something real was going on between us, right?”

His hands are traveling up your leg, still massaging as they do. You gulp heavily. Your heart beats faster.

“Right.”

Your thigh.

You gasp quietly as, in a sudden movement, he pushes you even closer to his body. The chair scratches on the floor. You’re glad the music is loud enough to mask the noise. 

His hands are warm. His smirk widens.

Jimin massages your thigh slowly. You don’t make any attempt to stop him. His hands are resting just a little distant from the hem of your dress. 

You want them to be under it. 

Yes, you are very much aware of all the people standing around, the things they’d think if they notice what is going on. But Jimin’s hands are on your thigh and you feel hotter inside every minute and his delicious lips are right there and holy fuck he’s enjoying torturing you as much as you enjoy being tortured and- you don’t even remember what you were worrying about a second ago.

“You’re so soft.” He says in a quiet, sultry voice that makes your insides quiver. “Are you feeling better now, pretty?”

“Mmmh-hmm” you say quietly as your breath gets deeper - which makes Jimin smile even more. “You’re good at this, did you know that? You have a hidden talent.”

He chuckles darkly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I could show you what else I can do with this talent of mine.”

His fingers - slowly, hesitantly - travel just a bit upwards, while he eyes you tentatively. He sees no disapproval or discomfort in your expression, which only ignites his excitement. He smirks and shakes his head slightly. 

“I’m actually going insane because of you, Y/N.” The smirk in his voice makes yet another goosebump run through your system. In response, you tilt your head to the side, eyeing him innocently.

“Why? I’m not doing anything.” You bite the tip of your tongue while smiling, which makes Jimin gulp.

Oh, the electricity. It almost sparks in the air with the power of a lightning. And to think you were trying to act all chaste not long ago, gaslighting yourself into thinking that doing anything with him would be equivalent as “selling yourself”.

Who fucking cares?

“Last question.” He says quietly, leaning even closer to you until his lips are right by your ear, sending shivers of excitement down your body. 

“Will you let finally let me fuck you?”

The words get stuck in your throat.

Jimin hasn’t been this obscenely straightforward up until now. It makes your mouth water, your heart beat faster. His voice wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. Like he was desperate for you and couldn’t take it anymore.

And that’s your last straw.

You lean away just enough to look at him. Fuck, he’s got pleading eyes, too. Your panties feel humid, you remember the last time you had sex was three months ago, you feel his warm hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your intimacy. 

You smile and, in a swift movement, move your leg away from his hand.

Jimin looks confused for a moment, his smile faltering, as you take the sandal and put it on your foot once again. He looks even more confused - maybe thinking you got offended? - when you get up and adjust your dress.

Then you look at him.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the toilet.”

Without looking back, you take the clutch from the table and make your way inside the hall.

The main couple is still having their moment in the middle of the hall - and for the first time you’re thankful to them, because no one even bats an eye as you discreetly make your way to the restroom. The dim lights hide you, not even waiters or security guards or photographers notice you. 

As you get into the black marble restroom - completely empty - you have around five seconds to look at your reflection in the mirror before Jimin walks in and shuts the door.

His lips on yours shut you mid-giggle.

Jimin grabs the back of your neck and glues his body on yours with the other hand as he hungrily kisses you - the kiss tastes like the cherry from your lipgloss and expensive champagne. You grab both sides of his neck as Jimin and you stumble to one of the stalls and you close the door clumsily. Holy fucking shit, it’s getting hot. The kiss is deep and desperate and full of desire. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says in a breathy voice that makes you smile seductively. “Why you gotta do this to me?”

You unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another as he leaves a wet kiss on your neck; you grab his shoulders for support. “I’m not doing anything yet.”

He chuckles darkly against your skin, his hot breath increases your temperature even more. His hand travels down your back to squeeze your ass, making you gasp lightly. He leaves one more wet kiss, and another, and another.

Jimin leans away so he can look at you. His lips are reddish, wet and a bit swollen. 

“You don’t need to.” He parts your legs with his own. Your insides bubble with excitement. “Look at you… all dolled up. The prettiest of all of them out there.” He licks his lips slowly. “I want to make a mess of you, Y/N. I want to see how pretty you look with your hair and makeup ruined by me.”

His knee presses on your intimacy, making you involuntarily sigh; the pressure is still too soft, not even close to satisfying the raging fire inside your body, but it already makes you gulp and breath heavier. God, you want this man inside of you. You need him. 

Jimin notices your change in expression and his smirk widens as he moves his knee against you, making you sigh again. You kiss him eagerly. There’s still music out there, but all you can hear is the kissing sounds and breaths and Jimin’s deep humm of approval.

“This is the face I wanted to see the most.” He whispers on your lips, his leg pressed against you, his hands caressing your waist and hips. “Let me make you feel good, pretty… please?” He pecks your lips. “Hmm?” He bites your bottom lip lightly, passing his tongue on it right after. “Can I fuck you now?”

Shit shit shit. It’s embarrassing how you already feel this wet while you barely even started. Were you this much touch starved? Or is it because you’ve been wanting this as much as him since the beginning?

You kiss him again.

“Not here.” you whisper in a breathy voice.

Jimin nods. It’s obvious. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

Back to your shared bungalow? It’s too far from here - only five minutes by car, yes, but you don’t think you can wait this long. Not to mention Mr. Zhou would be the one to drive you both back and you don’t want to look at that old man’s face before having sex.

Inside some car? But which car? This place is full of butlers and security guards, anyone would notice what’s going on. Just no.

As you’re about to ask where you could head to - Jimin’s eyes glint in that way that tells you he had an idea. 

His smirk widens.

He steps back and grabs your hand with a boyish, playful expression.

“Let’s go.”

You have time to grab the forgotten clutch from over the sink before Jimin drags you out of the restroom - luckily, the hall is still dimly lit and there aren’t many people back here. Discreetly, you two make your way towards the back exit - avoiding butlers and photographers at the main entrance - stepping out of the hall towards the stairs.

You finally realize where Jimin is heading to when you get to the sidewalk and he takes a turn to the left.

The pier.

Dozens of parked and empty yachts just around the corner.

You’re both laughing childishly as you run towards the pier - stopping only so you can yank those sandals off; who the hell could run in stilettos? - not caring to look back, feeling excitement and just the sheer joy of doing something you know you shouldn’t. The pier is quiet, there aren’t many people around; most yachts are dark. Jimin doesn’t drop your hand as he squints his eyes trying to find a specific one. When he does, he sprints towards it, dragging you along.

Jungkook’s yacht.

Completely dark. Cleaners, bartenders, all the staff are long gone, having finished their shifts long ago. 

There is a security guard standing in front of the entrance stairs, though.

He frowns as you two approach.

“Hey!” Jimin says in a happy voice. “You’re… Steven, right? Remember me? We were here earlier today.”

By the looks of it, his name is Steven, and he looks shocked that Jimin remembers it. “Good evening, sir. Did you need something?”

“You see, Steven, I might have forgotten something very important in the yacht.” Jimin says. You want to laugh. “I’d like to go check it out.”

“Of course, sir. Tell me what it is, I can ask another guard to check it for you-“

Jimin steps closer.

“No, Steven. I need to check it out. It’s kind of personal, you know?”

Steven eyes you and Jimin back and forth. 

The penny drops. His frown deepens. You’re not even embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t let you in.” He says in a mix of hesitance and annoyance. “This is private property.”

“I know, Steven, and I’m glad my friend hired such a diligent security guard. You’re very professional.” Jimin is a bastard, isn’t he? “I promise I won’t get you in trouble. Just let me check, okay?”

Steven looks around. “I’m sorry, sir… I really can’t.” 

Jimin nods.

He drops your hand for the first time, reaching for the inside of his back pocket. 

You watch with your jaw dropped as he opens his wallet and puts a stack of money on Steven’s hand.

Jimin casually walks around with stacks of money in his wallet.

The security guard’s eyes are as widened as yours. That much money must be double - shit, triple - of what he’ll get for this shift. You see as his annoyance dissolves and his resolve to not let you in disappears.

“It’s a really tiny thing I’m looking for, so it’ll take, I don’t know… an hour?” Jimin looks back at you up and down and reaches for his wallet again. He takes another stack just as big and puts it on Steven’s hand. “Two hours, actually, to check the whole place.”

Steven gulps. It seems he’s furiously fighting against his work ethic - but the money on his hand is heavier. 

Steven steps aside, finally giving up. “Okay, sir.”

Jimin smiles and grabs your hand again. “Make sure to keep the other guards away, okay? Thank you so much!”

You two sprint up the stairs - you have time to mumble an embarrassed “thank you” - towards the deck.

The yacht is completely dark, except for some emergency lights. Jimin guides you around it. You know there are actual bedrooms here, but both of you are way too impatient to go up one more flight of stairs - so before you can even process what’s happening, Jimin has thrown you against the bar counter and is kissing you again.

You drop the sandals and the clutch on the wooden floor before entangling your arms around Jimin’s neck. He presses his body on yours so hard that you lean back, your back hits the counter. And to think you were right here a few hours ago, surrounded by a bunch of people; it’s a completely different vibe with the lights off, silent, the darkness of the sea around you. 

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s ass, which makes him chuckle against your lips. He leans away for a moment and seems to be searching for something; with a click of his, the glass top of the counter lits up - there are red led lights under it. Both him and you are painted red. 

Jimin looks at you with hungry eyes, out of breath. That damn smirk.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this, pretty.” He pushes you closer again, grabbing your hair and leaving noisy kisses on your neck.

“I think I do.” You say cockily. You’ve been aching for him all this time - and it’ even embarrassing to admit it to yourself -; it’s embarrassing that Jimin is everything you learned to hate (filthy rich, arrogant, a fuck boy) from your past experiences, but shit, you’ve been wondering how he would feel inside of you all this time, you’ve been craving him since that night in your tiny apartment… and you’ve been wondering if he fucks as good as he talks.

Your hand bravely travels to his front. You rest your palm on his crotch, gently pressing it - earning a soft sigh from him. He’s stone hard. It makes you chuckle cockily against his ear, and the sensual sound sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. 

“No, no, no… you don’t really know.” His lips are on your ear as he speaks quietly and deeply. While one of his hands are still tightly entangled in your hair, the other travels down your back - which already almost makes you melt - to rest on your ass; in a slow but unhesitant movement, he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up to your hips, fully exposing your ass. “Ever since that time at the store…” he massages your asscheeks with both palms and squeezes it gently. You lick his neck in response. “When you looked at me with such disdain… you were reading a fucking text book behind that counter, looking at me as if you were so much better than me… I imagined fucking you over that same counter, pretty.” Goosebumps. He grabs one of your thighs and you instinctively wrap it around his waist; when he humps his clothed core against yours, you can’t fight back a soft moan. “I imagined fucking you over and over again. Such a hard-working girl…” He humps again, stronger this time. “So pretty…”

Your impatient fingers search for the lapel of his blazer, and you help him take it off, dropping it on the floor; you grab his face with both hands and your lips are pressed again in a hot dance, while he still humps slowly and sensually; each rub on your clothed clit sends electricity and heat through your veins. Your lower part is almost totally uncovered, except for the black lace thong you wear, and the cool ocean breeze makes the tiny hairs on your body raise. Everything is red and hot. Some sane part of your brain registers that if there’s anyone inside the neighbor yachts, they will totally see what’s happening - and it only adds to the excitement.

Jimin breaks the kiss and leans back slightly with half lidded eyes. His lips are shiny and stained with your lipgloss. He’s so sexy that the vision itself makes you feel pleasure.

He grips your ass tightly and watches intently as his movements make your breath get deeper each time, makes you sigh and moan softly. His breathing is deeper, too; his Adam’s apple moves when he gulps. He licks his bottom lip sensually, feeling the taste of your sweet lipgloss. He keeps you glued to his body as both of you move your hips against each other, rubbing your clothed intimacies to a more urgent pace; there are already droplets of sweat starting to cover his forehead. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, watching you whimper. 

“Touch me.” Your voice sounds strangled and slightly out of breath, which makes Jimin smile darkly. “Please.”

“Baby, you don’t need to beg.” He’s so visibly proud of himself and excited that he’s almost glowing more than the red led lights. The hand that supported your leg swiftly travels to your front and he unashamedly presses it on your clothed core, feeling the lace with his fingertips and the wetness underneath. The smile widens. “I’m going to give you anything you want tonight. Anything.”

Your head drops back when he starts to move his fingers in circular movements over your clit. He watches your every reaction intently with that same darkened gaze and smile. With the other hand, he grabs the back of your neck and once again glues his lips to your ear: 

“I want to hear you moan for me, baby.”

He says as his fingers slip under the fabric of the thong.

You shiver and an obscene whimper leaves your lips when his cool fingers make contact with your warm, wet intimacy. He hums in approval - and the deep sound makes your legs shake -, feeling your arousal, before once again putting pressure on your clit and moving his fingers in provocative circles. That’s a man that knows what to do with a clit, by the way. You entrance tightens around nothing.

“You like that?” He whispers. You nod, eyes closed, lips half parted. “Hmmm…” is all you can say. His smile widens.

Instinctively, you start to buck your hips, following the movement of his hand. He increases the speed of his movements, noticing your eagerness. You feel the fire spreading from your core down your legs and stomach.

With a quiet chuckle, he suddenly wraps his other arm around your waist. You let a surprised gasp as Jimin lifts you from the ground with ease and makes you sit over the counter (you hadn’t realized that Jimin is that strong, which is kind of hot).

He stands between your legs and kisses you again. Your fingers run through his smooth hair; he massages your thighs, back and ass. You softly bite his delicious bottom lip, and it’s sick how you know he’s smiling before even opening your eyes.

“You want me so bad, baby. It’s kind of cute.” He breathes amidst a quiet chuckle. 

“You’re talking too much.” 

He chuckles again as his fingers search for the zipper on the back of your dress. “I can’t shut up when you’re around.” The quiet sound of the zipper somehow sounds loud right now. “I want you to pay attention to me and only me.”

“You have all of my attention now. Let’s see if you deserve it.” Jimin finds it sickening how you sound innocent and sweet as you say this, gazing at him with the most daring eyes he’s ever seen. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s see.”

Usually, you’d worry about taking the dress off, scared to damage it somehow, but as Jimin helps you lift it and put it over your head, you couldn’t care less. You’re not wearing a bra. Your chest is fully exposed; you rest your hands back on the counter, gazing at Jimin sweetly, as he almost drools over your body. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He breathes heavily, mesmerized. Without wasting a second, he cups your breasts with both hands and squeezes them gently, earning a hum of approval from you. He kisses your neck, making his way down - slow, wet, loud kisses -, tasting you; you grip and massage his smooth hair, pulling it softly in ways that make him shiver.

When he hungrily mouths one of your hardened nipples, you bite your bottom lip and a soft moan escapes. Just the vision of his plump lips wrapped around your nipple makes you wetter. He swirls his warm, wet tongue around it, while his hand still works on your other breast, massaging it in delicious movements. He sucks your nipple, making a loud noise, before biting it gently - earning a hiss from you.

“I like that sound.” He says against your skin, looking up at you with a smile. “God, you’re delicious.” He kisses a spot on your stomach, under your breast. “You smell so good…” Another kiss. Lower this time. “I want to eat you.”

You giggle, biting your lip provocatively - as if his actions aren’t making you go insane. “Then do it.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he shakes his head; his smile is angelical - even though, right now, with the red light painting his face as he helps you position your feet on the counter - your hands supporting the weight of your body as you lean back slightly, totally spread and exposed for him -, he looks like a hungry demon.

God. You never had sex in such an open place before. The ocean breeze hits your body, making you shiver, at the same time that you’re burning from the inside, trembling in expectation. Jimin takes the hem of your thong and helps you take it off slowly, well aware of how painful making you wait is. He drops the last piece of clothing to the floor before grabbing the insides of your thighs, spreading you even more.

You’re naked and open over a bar counter, where anyone from the neighboring yachts can see you, with a million dollar necklace around your neck - and you’ve never been so aroused before.

Jimin licks his lips, eyes locked on your cunt. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” You bite your bottom lip hard when his fingers press on your clit in circular movements again for some moments before spreading your pussy lips with his index and pointed finger. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

He wraps his lips on your clit.

You throw your head back and actually moan this time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - his plump lips around your clit feel like heaven, much better than what your dirty mind could think of. He sucks softly and licks you, from your entrance to your clit again, flicking his tongue over it (once again - that’s a man that knows what to do with a clit). His warm, wet muscle moving against your most sensitive part makes waves of heat and raw pleasure run through your body, completely clouding your mind, as your fingers grip his hair and moans and hisses escape through your lips. Your sounds of pleasure, the wet noises he makes as he sucks you and the ocean waves create the most obscene and beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck-“ you manage to breathe out somehow. If he weren’t busy sucking your clit, he would’ve smirked cockily. “Feel so good, baby…”

He leans away for a moment, actually smirking this time. His lips are so wet that the sight makes you more wet. “Shit, if you call me like that again, I will cum in my pants.”

This makes you smile - but your smile goes away quickly as he carefully introduces two fingers inside of you, making you moan and bite your bottom lip. You’re so wet that they slide in easily - but you’re also very tight due to not being penetrated in a while, which makes Jimin move slowly. He watches your cunt with the attention of a professional. Fuck, he might be a pro at this, actually.

He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, making you lose your breath; Jimin pays attention to your every reaction. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, nodding, still biting your bottom lip. Jimin looks up at you with a fog in his eyes.

“You look so fucking hot right now, Y/N.” Somehow, the way he calls your name in that low tone instead of pretty sends goosebumps down your spine. He keeps eye contact while his fingers keep moving inside of you. He starts pulling them in and out, and you close your eyes for a moment, feeling shockwaves of pleasure every time he does so. Your breath gets shallow and quick, and out of instinct, you start bucking your hips, following his movements.

He mouths your clit once again while his fingers are still busy, making you moan louder. “R-Right there, Jimin-“ you stutter in a breathless voice. “Just like that…”

You don’t need to ask twice - he keeps hitting the same spot as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it, slurping all of your juices. You grip his hair for dear life, incapable of doing anything but moan and hiss and sweat, feeling your legs shake. You also think Jimin looks so fucking hot right now - head between your legs, hair an absolute mess (your fault), wet lips and the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

It might be because you’ve been touch starved for a while, or because Jimin eats pussy too well, or because you’ve been dreaming of this moment with him - but you already feel the orgasm building up. “Don’t fucking stop,” you beg him - and he obeys, sucking and licking mercilessly; maybe even Steven down there can hear the squelching noise your pussy makes every time his fingers move, or your moans that make Jimin feel the hardest he’s ever been. A small pool of your juices forms on the glass under you, dripping from your entrance. Jimin works on your cunt like his life depends on it. You feel the overwhelming heat building up in your stomach, your body shaking, your lungs failing-

You grip Jimin’s hair hard and yank him away from your pussy as the orgasm hits (you pulled so hard that it hurt his scalp - and he loved it); he also loved how tight you clenched his fingers as the orgasm made you convulse, just imagining how it would feel to be inside you. He watches you with pride, all covered in sweat and helpless, your face contorted in pleasure. 

He takes his fingers out of you slowly, standing straight again to press his lips on yours - and you don’t care to taste yourself on his lips. Your legs are still weak and trembling when one of his arms once again wraps around your waist and he helps you stand up on the floor, never breaking apart.

“Baby, I need you around me.” He whispers between kisses - and it almost sounds like a whimper, which makes your legs even weaker. “Will you get on your knees for me? Hmm?”

It’s your turn to obey promptly - Jimin ate you out so good that he deserves it. Without saying anything, and still keeping eye contact, you get on your knees, batting your lashes prettily at him while your fingers work on his belt. Jimin takes some strands of hair away from your face, mesmerized; ever since you first met, he always looked at you in a way that made you feel attractive, and right now it has just increased tenfold.

Jimin unzips his pants and frees his cock from his black boxers. You gulp at the sight of his girthy, veiny cock; he’s stone hard, pulsating, and you wonder exactly how long he’s been hard already. He pumps himself slowly, while you once again lock eyes. 

“Shit- you look even better than I imagined.” He says in a low, breathy tone. Just the fact that your usually fierce and unbashful persona is obediently kneeled down in front of his dick, looking up at him with sweet round eyes (you’re too good at this), eyes clouded still recovering from your high, almost sends him over the edge. 

You stick your tongue out and lick his pink tip, immediately earning a hiss of pleasure. Your lips wrap around the tip and you suck gently at first, teasing him, never breaking eye contact, while he still pumps himself. Jimin gulps, licking his wet lips; the sight itself makes you tighten your pussy around nothing. 

“Open your mouth for me.” He says - and this time it doesn’t sound like he’s asking, meaning he’s more desperate. You promptly do so, sticking your tongue out again. He slaps his cock against your tongue, hissing - and it’s fucking evil how you’re smiling right now, he thinks - while his other hand grips the hair at the top of your head firmly.

He pushes in. Fuck - he’s big and fat and you gag around him, but at the same time, he tastes delicious, if it even makes sense. Jimin closes his eyes and throws his head back, starting to roll his hips against your face, as his hand still keeps your head in place and your lips tighten around his cock. 

“Shit– you look so good with my cock stuffed down your throat,” he hisses, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Drool and spit drip from the corners of your mouth, you gag and whimper, but it’s the daring gaze locked on his that tells Jimin he can just keep going. “So obedient, baby, taking me like a big girl… fuck– I want to cum all over your face.”

You hum with his dick in your mouth, sending vibrations that make him groan with pleasure. His balls slap on your chin every time he thrusts, and you keep your lips tightened around him, trying to give him the pressure he needs. There’s something sensual about you being naked while he’s still fully clothed - and you never thought you’d feel this way for anyone. He looks so hot with sweat covering his forehead, strands of hair falling over eyes, half lidded eyes and parted lips in a face of pure pleasure; fuck, you’d let him fuck your throat whenever he wanted, you’d suck him forever if it meant you would have this sight every time you did it.

His grunts and moans and hisses make you melt every time, even though his movements become more and more uncomfortable as he stuffs himself in your throat in quick thrusts that make you whimper and feel tears grow in your eyes. As if sensing this, Jimin yanks you off his cock and you gasp for air. He smiles at how messy you look right now, with drool dripping from your mouth and a thin layer of sweat over your forehead. 

“C’mere,” he breathes out, helping you get up and hurriedly guiding you towards a nearby sun lounger. Closer to the yacht’s balcony, the ocean breeze hits your body harder, making you shiver. “How do you want me to fuck you, hm?”

Without saying a word, you smile devilishly before getting on your fours for him; you arch your back and purr like a cat, ass up, chest touching the lounger. You're still smiling and biting your lip when you look at him from over your shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of your stretched pussy.

Jimin steps closer and massages your asscheek before slapping hard, earning you a soft hiss. “You’re amazing. Can’t stop saying that. You’re perfect, baby.” He grips your hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to your entrance, getting the tip wetter with your juices. “You’re so good that you make me wanna fuck you raw, baby.”

Truth is - you didn’t even think of protection, and you couldn’t care less in this moment, as wrong as it is - but God, when Jimin finally pushes in, stretching your pussy as both of you moan in pleasure, you couldn’t be more thankful that his cock is uncovered so you can feel his skin purely.

Your breathing fails and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight, adjusting to the pressure and the slight pain it causes. Jimin pushes balls deep in, slowly at first, throwing his head back in delight. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, pretty…”

He starts to thrust in and out, making you moan each time with the glorious friction you desired so much. “Fuck– f-feel so good, Jimin…” you purr, arching your back even more. He grips both sides of your hips firmly, increasing speed with each thrust; the sound of skin hitting skin repeatedly is everything you can hear beside yours and Jimin’s moans and grunts.

Every nerve in your body seems to be on fire. His cock punches deep into your pussy, pushing you closer and closer to actual insanity as your mind becomes incapable of noticing anything but the feeling of him hammering inside of you over and over again, his strong grip on your hips, stuffing you even better than you had fantasized. Sweat covers all of your body now, and the necklace hurts your collarbones since you’re pressed against the lounger, but you couldn’t care less right now. 

“I love hearing you moan, pretty.” He sounds out of breath and sexy. You gasp in surprise when, suddenly, he grips your hair and pulls it, forcing your head back. It burns your scalp; you hiss in pain, but the pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure and somehow doubles it. “Fuck– this pussy’s all mine. You’re all mine.”

You never thought Jimin was the possessive type, but people babble whatever comes to their minds when they fuck, right? That’s why, mindlessly, you have the audacity to agree: “Y-Yeah, baby, I’m all yours– ah!”

He pulls your hair even harder at the same time he takes it all out just to slam himself balls deep in again in a way that lets you see stars and drool. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck– he’s merciless, relentless in his quick pace, ruthless in the way he grips you and spanks your ass - but, at the same time, his mouth is full of praises, grunting how good you feel or how pretty you are.

You whine in protest when he pulls out entirely without warning. “Turn around, I want to watch you getting fucked.”

Once again, you do as he said without complaints - but instead of immediately laying back again, your hurried fingers unbutton his shirt and you make him take it off, which Jimin does gladly, since the fabric was already glued to his body due to how much he was sweating. You lay back; Jimin grabs your legs and puts both knees over his shoulders.

He takes his cock with one hand while the other holds one of your thighs, slapping it on your clit a few times. You watch his face distort with pleasure when he pushes inside of you again. Jimin picks a fast pace from the beginning, holding both of your thighs, focused as if he’s on a mission; all you can do is moan and whimper helplessly, massaging your own breasts while Jimin drives both of you closer to your highs.

He watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, your face covered with sweat, the way not even the ruined makeup makes you look ugly - and the fact that you’re wearing anything but diamonds somehow arouses him even more. You clench around him, pushing Jimin closer and closer to the edge. Neither of you are worrying about being quiet right now, and you can only hope that the ocean will be your ally in muffling your desperate moans.

But you’re suddenly forced to worry about it.

The sound of voices and steps yank both of you back to reality at the same time. 

Jimin stops moving. You and him look to the stairs barely five meters away at the same time.

Two voices coming closer.

“Sir, please-” you hear. It’s Steven’s voice - worried, almost freaked out.

And the second voice-

“B-But I’m sure I left it here somewhere…”

You both recognize it instantly.

A very drunk Jungkook.

You look back at Jimin with horror, eyes open wide, as he lets go of your legs and lays on top of you instead, shushing you. 

“Sir, please,” Steven’s panicked voice echoes again. “As I told you, the upper floors were waxed… you can’t go upstairs, it’ll ruin your shoes,” yeah, he came up with a smart excuse. But Jungkook keeps babbling about losing something, too drunk to understand.

If he comes upstairs, he’ll immediately see you. You’re not in a hidden spot at all. You want to get up and hurry away-

But then you look at Jimin again and he’s smirking devilishly.

He thrusts again, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

Before you can moan - he covers your mouth with his hand.

Your eyes talk. Are you seriously doing this?

His eyes talk back. Yeah.

He thrusts again.

And again.

Your eyes roll back, you entangle your legs around his waist. Fuck, these men down there could come upstairs at any moment. They can hear you if you’re loud enough. If they come upstairs and see you in this situation, you don’t know if you’ll get over the embarrassment. But Jimin’s cock is stuffing you so deep and so good. He hits your spot again, and again, and again, and his dick is thick and heavy, and he could tear you open that you wouldn’t mind - so you don’t push Jimin away. No, you tighten your legs around him because don’t he dare stop; you grip his back, you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but the fact that Jimin can still hear your muffled moans against his hand makes it hard for him to endure this much longer.

He hides his face on your neck in an attempt to muffle his own moans, biting your shoulder in a torturous slower pace now - if he goes too hard, the sound of skin hitting skin will be heard from the floor below. A part of your mind registers that Steven is desperately trying to lead Jungkook out of the yacht, while all the other parts are focused on Jimin’s member inside of you, his weight over your body, his teeth sinked on your shoulder. You can’t stop, neither does he. It’s like you’re in some type of trance.

After long, torturous minutes, you hear the voices going away.

Jimin is ruthless.

He lets go of your mouth and supports his body with his forearms on both sides of your face, pounding in despair; neither of you can take this much longer, it’s getting painful.

“F-Fuck, pretty, you did so well-” he somehow manages to breathe out, smirking in boyish excitement. “Such an obedient girl, hmpf, keeping quiet while I fuck you good…”

“Oh my God–” you whimper, feeling the second - and more intense - orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. “D-Don’t fucking stop, Jimin–”

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you cum again–” he swiftly leans away and places one leg over his shoulder again, spreading you in an even better angle. “You deserve it, baby- shit, shit, shit–”

He punches inside of you over and over and over again until your walls are clenched and convulsing and your toes curl and your eyes roll and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight and your whole body shakes in an explosive orgasm. You’re breathless, weak; it was an almost out of body experience. Did you ever cum this hard before? You don’t think so.

And it’s not time to think of yourself, actually, because when your brain starts recovering from the high, you realize that Jimin had pulled out and is pumping his cock desperately, trying to reach his high. You grab his wrist, stopping him, and - Jimin almost loses it - you meow: “C’mere, come in my mouth.”

You sit up and he kneels over you until his member is on your face and, without wasting a second, you put it all into your mouth until you feel him in your throat, sucking him eagerly. Jimin moans and grips your hair while you pump your head over his length, producing loud suction noises. You just want him to cum as hard and good as he made you.

“Fuck– fuck, Y/N, I’m coming–” he warns in pant, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

You still keep it open, though, sticking your tongue out, as Jimin blows his load on you. You feel his hot seed dripping on your face, feel it on your lips and tongue. You patiently wait until he’s milked dry. Then, you open your eyes.

Jimin’s hair is an absolute mess. He’s all sweaty, panting heavily, face flushed, shaking slightly; you’ve never seen him look so glorious.

He opens a tired smirk.

And, with your gaze locked with his, you lick your lips and swallow.

It’s like he came again just seeing you do this.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

It is your turn to chuckle.

Yeah.

Maybe you will.

You let cum drip on a million dollar necklace.

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 8

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 16k

A/N: I finally made a playlist for Weak Point! I think it really encapsules the vibes of the fic. Please have a listen!!

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

Your day started with a nightmare.

CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK. There was a giant steel monster chasing you through an abandoned building. It was over ten meters tall; its teeth were sharp like a bear trap and its eyes were two shining red lamps. Its every step went CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK. It shook the building, the floor, your jaw; you felt about to spit out your heart. You weren’t fast enough. The monster was going to reach you. It ran after you. CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK—

Wait the fuck up.

You weren’t sleeping.

Your half asleep, half awakened brain was confused, working slowly. There’s no monster! I’m laying in my bed!

But the CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK continued.

You jumped out of bed. Fell on the wooden floor in the process. You felt about to have a heart attack. Your eyes couldn’t distinguish things properly in the dark, your brain didn’t know what the fuck was happening, your hands fiddled with the door handle.

You ran down the corridor. Fushiguro was running downstairs at the same time and almost ran over you like a train with no brakes, but managed to somehow jump over you (that was cool as fuck!! He did it like Spider-Man!!). Mayu, too, ran downstairs after him, her hair disheveled and eyes widened— what the fuck was happening— what was that CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK—

Gojo.

Standing in the middle of the living room.

Beating the back of a pan with a large steel spoon.

He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on, but your eyes got used to the darkness. You could see he was smiling.

“Took y’all long enough!” He chirped happily.

The three of you stood in front of the stairs in absolute shock.

It seemed that your brains started working in synch.

It was still dark. He was beating a pan with a spoon. He was making CLANK CLANK CLANK CLANK.

Absolute hatred spread between you in synch, too.

“What the fuck is wrong with you—?!”

“—It’s four in the morning—“

“—I’m gonna shove this pan up your ass—“

“—What is your problem?!!”

“We’re going to Universal Studios!!”

The three of you shut up in synch, too.

Silence.

Gojo grinned.

“What?” Fushiguro recovered first.

Yeah. Good fucking question.

What?!

“We’re going to Universal Studios!” He repeated with the fattest smile on his face. 

Your brain started to catch up on what he said. You frowned.

“That’s— that’s in Osaka.” 

“Exactly, so you better hurry up!” He looked at his watch. “It’s four in the morning now. Y’all have one hour to get ready. Our train leaves at 6PM, we don’t wanna get late!”

Reality started to sink in. Fushiguro’s shoulders dropped, a tired and angry grimace making its way to his face. Mayu was the opposite: slowly, her eyes widened and you could sense her vibrating in a frequency that could break glass. On a scale of Mayu to Fushiguro, you were somewhere in the middle: not as angry as him, but definitely not that excited, either.

You weren’t planning to go out at all. You wanted to rest. And shit– it was four in the morning; you’d gotten home around ten, went to bed close to midnight… you didn’t sleep at all. 

But Mayu was still vibrating in a frequency that could break glass.

“Are you serious?!” Oh no. That super excited tone. 

“Yeah!” Gojo’s grin got wider, if that was even possible. “Call your friends if you want, Mayu-chan!”

“Really?!” And you almost yelled ‘Really?!’ too, because what?! 

“Yeah! But you gotta be quick with it!”

Mayu went kyaaaaaaaa in such a high pitched tone that you thought for a second that she could, in fact, break glass. She hopped around like a bunny and gave Gojo a quick hug (which made his smile wider. Something that was asleep inside your head woke up real fast seeing that) before running upstairs.

“I gotta call Acchan and Hina-chan! I’ll wear— I don’t know what I’ll wear! I’m showering first!!”

She disappeared again.

Gojo was still smiling. You and Fushiguro weren’t.

“I’m not going.” The teenager by your side stated.

“Bold of you to assume this is a request, Megumi!” He was still smiling. Fushiguro’s frown deepened.

“But—“

“You have one hour, Megumi!” He was still smiling.

Fushiguro wanted to argue. You saw all the insults bubbling inside him. But he gave a look at Gojo’s unwavering posture, heard Mayu running up there— and sighed heavily in defeat.

He brooded his way to his bedroom.

Gojo was still smiling.

It was your turn to sigh and put your hands on your hips. Your body was heavy and tired. Even your limbs felt weak.

He was still fucking smiling.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” You were very well aware that you sounded like a disappointed mother, as much as you hated it. “You send selfies all the time in the group chat but can’t text that you had a trip planned?”

“It’s ‘cause it wasn’t planned at all!” Gojo shrugged. “Impromptu trips are more fun!”

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing fun about this.”

“Come ooooon, Momorin, don’t be boring! You’re spending too much time with Megumi!”

You wanted to beat him to a pulp.

But Mayu had been locked in this house for a month. 

She lost the entire summer break. Classes would restart next Monday. As you heard her speak on the phone with one of her friends up there, how could you simply say no? 

It didn’t excuse the fact that he didn’t tell you anything previously, of course.

You heard the taptaptaptap of Mayu’s feet up there. She popped at the top of the stairs with a towel in hand.

“I want you to give me a hairstyle!!” She spoke so fast that you barely understood it before disappearing towards the bathroom.

You sighed again.

Gojo was still smiling.

“You have 58 minutes!” 

Oh, how you wanted to beat him to a pulp.

Unfortunately, like Fushiguro, you had to settle to sighing in defeat and walking upstairs.

The day would be long.

Fushiguro got ready first, as expected.

He put on an oversized white t-shirt, black jeans and red sneakers. Though he wanted it to look like he didn’t put much effort into his fit, the red headphones that matched his sneakers were a hard sign that he did care. He sat on the couch, brooding, and didn’t take his eyes off his phone.

Mayu chose an oversized black t-shirt (what is it with teenagers and oversized t-shirts?) with some anime boy printed on it, denim shorts and black All Stars. You styled her hair in space buns. After dyeing her hair some days ago, it was a vivid shade of dark green again. You always thought she looked so cute in space buns.

You chose a pre-determined outfit you had already worn before, because you didn’t have time to pick something better. A plain black tank top, high waisted denim shorts, an oversized light striped button-up shirt (who are you to talk about oversized clothes?) that you let open and your good ol’ Adidas. You wouldn’t have time to do something nice in your hair, so you used a navy blue cap to kind of hide it. Silver hoop earrings and thin rings. Just a little eyeliner, mascara and lip gloss. Nice, you thought as you looked at yourself in the mirror. It doesn’t even look like I’m about to pass out of exhaustion.

You took your black backpack and ran towards the kitchen.

There were still some cookies. You shoved them in the backpack. Potato chips too. You thought of putting soda there, too, but that would be a stretch. Doritos… was there still time to prepare some quick sandwiches?

“Why are you shoving the entire kitchen into your bag?”

You turned around to face Gojo — and you probably had something witty to say —  but then your eyes landed on him and your brain blacked out like an old Windows computer.

He also changed.

Which was obvious. Duh. Why would he choose to wear his uniform on a trip?

And it’s not like you hadn’t seen him wear a t-shirt before, right? It was light green. Was not oversized for a change. It wasn’t super tight, either, but it felt like his chest wanted to say ‘hello, world!’ anyway. His biceps were saying hi, too. He wore light denim pants. You hadn’t seen him in jeans yet. Or these white Nikes. Another silver watch adorned his right wrist. Instead of the blindfold, the usual black sunglasses.

Gojo was very lowkey with his outfits. But it’s not like he needed to dress anything over the top to look good. 

And he did look very. Very. Good.

“Food in those parks is always super expensive!” You explained while putting the backpack over the counter. Great reaction time!, you complimented yourself. He didn’t notice you gagging at him at all! “We have something here, so we should take it.”

Gojo snorted. “C’mon, Momorin. What kinda guy would I be if I didn’t pay for your food? I invited you all in the first place.”

Ugh. You always forgot the motherfucker was rich. Rich people don’t worry about this type of thing, even if they charge five thousand for a cheeseburger.

You also thought it was kinda hot.

Ahem.

“Yeah, but they’re gonna be hungry anyway. They’ll want to eat on the train.” You put a last chip bag in the backpack. “How long does it take, by the way?”

“Two and a half hours.”

“Great. I’m gonna sleep the entire way.” You put the backpack over one shoulder and made your way towards the living room. “Mayu! Did you find your ID?”

You went through a checklist of necessary items (documents, umbrellas, hoodies if it gets cold, money, pads just in case…) to ignore the other thing you had noticed back in the kitchen.

He was wearing sunglasses. They were dark as fuck. It made it hard to see his eyes under there.

But you noticed.

That little smirk. It was different from his usual sarcastic, disdainful or playful ones. It made you feel funny inside.

Perhaps his brain lagged when he saw you, just like yours did.

It hadn’t occurred to you that Gojo had never seen you wearing anything other than your uniform (and you weren’t allowed to wear makeup, use accessories and your hair had to always be up while at work), ugly pajamas or stay-at-home clothes. Sure. This outfit was casual. But you looked nice. You knew you looked nice.

You hadn’t thought too much about Gojo’s comment right before Aoyagi’s interrogation. I’d never hurt a pretty face like that. Because… well, Gojo was a very sarcastic dude. It felt more like a catchphrase than an actual compliment. And you hadn’t thought too much about how he was hot. He just was. It wasn’t even an opinion, but a fact. Gojo was your guardian in a weird way; you were living under his roof and protection. You were developing some sort of strange friendship along this month of living “together” (‘cause he still was barely home), and it was a relationship you genuinely liked. You liked his presence, and though he could be insufferable, his company was stimulating in a way.

You didn’t want to make things weird.

You were trying to not acknowledge the attraction you felt for him, either.

But that smirk right there put you in a very tricky position, because if the attraction was mutual, then… fuck, then what? What would you do?!

You do nothing, bitch, you scolded yourself. Because it’s five in the fucking morning, you’re going on a trip with a bunch of teenagers, you only had three hours of sleep and you’re not even functioning properly. You might be overthinking. Just focus on what you have to do right now.

Yeah. Alright.

Everyone was ready to go.

Ijichi pulled up in a van and you were kind of shocked. Painfully punctual as always. Fushiguro ran to the passenger seat before anyone could argue; you’d rather let Mayu sit with her friends in the middle row, so you sat on the back of the van.

With Gojo by your side.

Well. There was an empty seat between you, as he sat on the opposite window. 

Not that you cared, because you planned to sleep peacefully anyway.

But your plans were ruined.

Bold of you to assume a van filled with teenage girls would allow you to have some peace. Even if there were just three of them.

The first stop was at Acchan’s house. You liked Acchan; she was the first friend Mayu made as soon as she entered the school two years ago, and they became inseparable. It was very obvious why. They were both loud and when Acchan opened the door to her house they went KYAAAAAAAAA and your ears genuinely hurt. Also, Acchan was cool as fuck. It was so nice to see the gyaru tradition alive and well in this generation. Her hair was a vivid shade of orange now; she wore a pink leopard print shirt, a denim mini skirt and fur gaiters, not to mention a ton of accessories. She made clink clink clink whenever she moved her arms because of the bracelets. You always thought it was cute how she called you nee-chan.

Acchan looked at Fushiguro on the passenger seat and blushed. He spared her a disinterested nod. Then she spotted Gojo — who greeted her cheerfully as usual — and blushed even harder. 

Next stop was at Hina-chan’s house. The shy and very demure class representative. As far as you knew, the friendship between the girls started because Mayu and Acchan protected Hina from bullies. Hina-chan had the opposite personality of the other two, but they ended up “adopting” her anyway. She didn’t have colorful hair or a bunch of accessories, deciding to wear a simple but cute light yellow dress; her dark hair was styled in low pigtails. You also liked Hina-chan because these two girls needed someone more level-headed around them.

Hina-chan looked at Fushiguro and blushed furiously. He spared her a disinterested nod. Then she spotted Gojo — who greeted her cheerfully as usual — and you thought that she was going to pass out.

Heh. Girls will be girls.

And from then on, peace inside the van was ruined.

Even though Hina-chan was the quieter type, it seemed that being with the other two made her vibrate in that same frequency. You couldn’t blame them, honestly; it’d been a month since they’d last seen each other. So you didn’t complain when they cackled like a flock of parrots and kyaaaaa’d and jumped on their seats and took complete control of the radio; because the one real thing that kept them together was their mutual, obsessive love for EXO. They sang every song (each on a different note) and fanchanted every fanchant known to men.

Part of you wanted to kill yourself.

The other part just blacked out anyway.

Huh. Thought a little bit of noise wouldn’t let me sleep? I can sleep anywhere! I am the master sleeper! This is my real technique!

Someone else that had a hidden super powerful technique was Ijichi. That man knew Tokyo like the palm of his hand. He knew every shortcut, every little street; he knew exactly what way to go to avoid heavy traffic and headlights. Most shocking: he didn’t need to look at the GPS at all. Straight up insanity. That is why, against all odds, he managed to get to the train station ten minutes before 6AM.

“You’re not coming with us?” You asked as you jumped out of the van, still groggy after being woken up. That made you kind of sad. Ijichi worked so much. He deserved to go on a little trip every once and a while.

“Oh, no. I have a lot of work to do.” He spared you a polite lip tightened smile and a nod. “I’ll be here to pick you up, though. You have fun!”

You waved him a little goodbye as he maneuvered away from the train station. 

You turned around.

Gojo was already some steps ahead of you. The corners of his lips were down.

“What?” You asked as you joined him.

“Why’d you look sad that he’s not coming?”

You huffed. The girls were already far ahead, with Fushiguro even farther from them. Gojo started following you.

“I thought he was coming too, that’s all. I think he deserves a break. He works too much.”

It was his turn to huff. He crossed his arms. Biceps. “I work a lot, too, but I don’t see you weeping around that I’m not having enough fun.”

You shot him a venomous side eye. “I’m not weeping. And you’re literally coming along.”

“Hmpf. So that’s how it’ll be?”

You rolled your eyes so bad that you almost saw the inside of your skull. “It’s six in the morning. I’m not doing this right now.”

“What’d ya mean–?” But you were already running to reach Fushiguro.

It didn’t take long to board despite everything. How Gojo even managed to get last minute tickets to Osaka was a mystery, especially since classes would restart next week; every family wanted a chance to travel for one last time. Last time you had a trip like that, you had to reserve tickets a week in advance. Made you wonder if the whole “last minute trip” was a lie. But… Gojo had a lot of flaws, and being a liar didn’t feel like one of them.

The seats were in pairs. To Fushiguro’s utmost dismay, Acchan sat by his side (she ran to secure her seat by him, to be honest). Mayu and Hina-chan sat together. And yeah. As expected. The idiot. And he pouted his way into making you cede the seat by the window.

Whatever. It’s not like you were interested in the view anyway. You wanted to sleep.

If he’d allow it, of course. 

The AC was kind of insane inside the train (did they want to refrigerate everyone or what?) so you quickly grabbed your hoodie from the backpack and used it as a blanket. The fact that Gojo wasn’t carrying a bag himself was nuts. Just raw dogging a trip to Osaka. Was he used to buying stuff on the way if he needed something?

You were in the process of lowering the seat when Gojo leaned in your direction out of nowhere.

You froze.

He had dropped his glasses a bit down the bridge of his nose, so you could see his eyes. He was frowning. Why was he so close?

“You have a nose piercing?” He sounded a bit shocked.

Oh.

Okay.

Instinctively, you touched the right side of your nose with your fingertip. You weren’t wearing a piercing (in fact, his remark made you sad; why didn’t you remember to put it on?); it was the first time he noticed the tiny hole.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you never wear one, though?” He leaned away again. Phew.

“Because of work.” You took your phone and looked down on it. “I’d be fired if I stepped on the hospital with a piercing.” 

The simple fact that Remi had her hair dyed blonde was already groundbreaking (and almost too much) for the hospital. The medical field was still very conservative in this aspect. If it were for you, you’d have your whole arm tatted since you were twenty, but dad was like, good luck ever finding a job if you do that. You’ll have a useless diploma for the rest of your life. Unfortunately, he was right.

It was six thirty. The train started to move. You plugged the earphones on it.

The phone he bought you.

You’d already thanked him, of course. You’d already told him that he didn’t need to do it, to which he just brushed it off, as expected. It’s not like receiving a gift like that was bad, but it still made you feel useless anyway. Can’t go anywhere unattended. Can’t do anything without his help. Can’t even buy a goddamn phone.

“Why did you pick the pink one for me?” You asked quietly. Your voice was already low and raspy with sleep.

“‘Cause it’s girly.” He shrugged.

Huh. You should’ve figured he wouldn’t put much thought on it.

Two seconds.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Maybe it was embarrassment. Maybe it made you want to drill the floor and hide there.

You had forgotten that he also saw your memory on that tube TV. He and Aoyagi. He saw the teenage you. He saw your pink Motorola Razr from back then. 

That’s probably why he chose the pink one.

It made you so embarrassed that you decided you were not going to talk anymore.

And surprisingly!!! Like a gift from the gods!! Gojo allowed you to sleep!

No poking or babbling or pulling at your hair. He just left you alone. You put that Soft Rainy Night Distant Thunder Cozy 10 Hour Loop video on Youtube and went unconscious in less than a minute. Uncomfortable seat? Giggling teenagers seated in the front? Nothing could beat your master technique. 

You woke up already in Osaka, as everyone disembarked the train. Your neck hurt, but nothing that some stretching wouldn’t fix.

From then on – hell.

The stations were packed. It seemed that the five kilometer radius that surrounded the park was crowded by the entire population of the country. You should’ve expected it already. The last week after the start of the second semester? Of course it would be packed like that. Of course it would be hell. And of course it would be super hot.

You tried to somehow guide the pack around the crowds. Let’s go to that side. Let’s pick that line. Get your IDs and tickets ready beforehand. Throw this can in the trash, it’s not allowed inside the park. Mayu, if you complain about something again, I’m dragging your ass back to the train. You felt like the insufferable field trip supervisor. It would be nice to get some help, but turns out the other adult in the group wasn’t doing anything (other than paying, of course).

Finally, at 10h30, you were all inside the park. It was already pretty late, considering the gates opened at eight, but oh well.

As soon as you passed by the Universal globe on the square near the entrance, Gojo took his phone from his pocket and yelled “Everyone!!! Let’s take a picture!!!”. He put his arm around Fushiguro’s shoulders, forcing the boy to join (against his will), while you and the girls squeezed yourselves to fit on the screen. His height was so useful for group selfies. He still made it possible to see the globe in the back of the photo.

“Send this on the group chat!” Mayu asked excitedly. Now that you were finally inside, you started to feel excited as well. This was fun, after all. A park! A goddamn break! You were in a place that didn’t include dying patients or the cat that hated your guts!

“We should hurry to Super Mario World!” Acchan said.

“Yeah– we should run there, even with the express tickets, it’ll be hard to get in.” Hina-chan agreed.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go!” Mayu stated.

They were already walking away.

You felt your stomach drop.

“Wait!” Was your instinctive reaction.

The girls stopped to look back at you.

“What?” Mayu asked impatiently.

Shit.

You hadn’t talked this through. Wouldn’t it be safer if everyone was together? Sure, you knew Mayu wanted to enjoy it with her friends, and that didn’t include you. You weren’t offended or anything; to be honest, you didn’t even want to go to the Super Mario attraction in the first place, and there was only so much your brain could take of teenage girl yelling and giggling.

But this was a crowded space.

A dangerous space. 

It’d be better if you went along, right?

“We didn’t agree on a meeting spot yet, Mayu-chan.”

To your utmost surprise, the other adult decided to be useful for once.

You looked up at him. Your worried, hesitant eyes asked for themselves. Are you sure?

Gojo lowered his voice and leaned down a bit so only you could hear it. “She’ll be fine, Momorin. Let her have fun with her friends.”

He was doing that again.

His serenity. His confidence. He wasn’t worried at all… so why would you be?

“Oh. Right.” Mayu and the girls approached again. “We could meet here, right? At the globe?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Right. We meet here at six. Not a minute late, you hear me?”

“Okay.”

“You have everything with you? Your money? The water bottle?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“The phone charger?”

“I got two!” Hina-chan said proudly. “If anyone needs a spare!”

“It’s too sunny today. Use sunscreen every hour. You girls, too.”

“Okay!” 

“You all have my number. Anything happens, you call me right away. Got it?”

“Got it! Alright!”

You nodded like a general. “Okay. You girls have fun.”

“You, too!”

And they were already running away.

You still stood there, hesitating, feeling anxiety eat your insides like maggots. The three were going to disappear from your sight soon. Disappear. The first time she’d be away from you, away from your sight, little Mayu in the middle of this crowd, surrounded by strangers—

“Shouldn’t I give her the anchor?” You were already trying to unclasp the bracelet from your right wrist.

“Why?” Gojo was puzzled.

“‘Cause if anything happens to her– what if something–”

Gojo held your wrist.

It was a calm, soft touch, almost featherlight. His hand was so much bigger than yours. Soft. He prevented you from unclasping the bracelet.

You looked up at him, and you didn’t like how you probably looked fragile at that moment.

“I need anchors for long distance teleportation, Mori.” Not Momorin or Mori-chan. Mori. He was serious, his voice as soft as his touch, eyes calm like a lake. “Mayu’s right there. If anything happens, I won’t need it to get to her. But I won’t need it, because nothing’s gonna happen. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

Serenity. Confidence. He was so sure of himself.

If he’s not worried, I shouldn’t be.

You gulped and nodded.

Gojo held your wrist for a second longer. A second. His thumb caressed the inner part of your wrist, soft and caring. A second. It lasted a second.

He stepped aside.

“So! Where to next?!” And he was back to his boisterous persona.

You looked around– Fushiguro. God, you had forgotten he was there. He wasn’t paying attention to you, eyes still glued to his phone, and for a moment you were annoyed (we’re in a goddamn park!! Drop this phone, kid!!). You put your hands on your waist. 

“Where d’you wanna go first, Fushiguro-kun?”

It seems he remembered you existed at that moment, too. He finally looked around and shrugged.

“Uh… anywhere is fine by me.”

God. He was not excited at all. Which was a bit sad, if you were going to be honest.

You weren’t sad, in the other hand.

“The girls were smarter than us! If we want to visit Mario World, we should get there fast!” Gojo exclaimed.

“Nah, I’ve visited it already.”

He was visibly taken aback.

If no one was going to pick a destination, you were going to.

“Let’s go to the Flying Dinosaur, then.” You quickly took your phone and opened the park’s map. “That way!”

You started to walk. They followed.

Fushiguro was several steps behind (didn’t want to be seen walking with the adults? Typical teenager) while Gojo did that again, orbiting around you like a crow.

He was doing that other thing again, too.

The corners of his lips were down.

“You’d already been here?” He asked with a strange venomous tone in his voice.

“Yeah. You haven’t?”

“I have. Obviously.” Silence for two seconds. You figured what was coming a second before he spoke. “Did you come here with Ren–?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“Why not? Why don’t you wanna talk about that?”

“Why do you wanna talk about my ex, Gojo?” You glared at him. “Are you interested in him? Do you want his number?”

He huffed. “I’m not into boring people.”

“Then let’s not talk about him!”

“Let me guess…” He held his chin and hummed, completely ignoring your plea. “You did all the couply stuff with him, right? All the boring rides? You didn’t get to go on any coaster, right? That’s why you’re so excited to go.”

There was a kid walking with an ice cream cone by your side. You considered taking it and smashing it against his skull.

Gojo was kind of right, but the truth was even more embarrassing.

…You didn’t go on any cool rollercoaster because Ren had severe motion sickness. And he was scared of heights.

Which. You know. At the time, you thought it was cute, even. But you were excited about the trip to begin with because of the radical rides. Ain’t that the whole point of parks? It was to you, at least.

“And what’s the problem with that?” It was your turn to cross your arms and quirk one eyebrow. “We were a couple. That’s what couples do.”

“You were bored the whole time.”

“You can’t tell that.”

“I can.”

“Why are you so jealous, Gojo?” Right there. The sucker punch in his guts. 

“I ain’t!” He shrugged.

“You freaking are.” You opened an evil smirk. “Oh, I thought jealousy was beyond you. An avoidant guy like you doesn’t have the right to be jealous of anyone.”

The corners of his lips were down again. Like a kid. Like an old man.

“I like to be the best at everything. So today will be more unforgettable than the last time you’ve been here with that guy.” He shrugged.

And didn’t deny it.

He didn’t deny the jealousy part.

It’s nothing, you told yourself. It’s nothing. Don’t think too much about it. It doesn’t mean anything. He likes to tease. That’s just how he is.

Right. Right.

The three of you marched to the Jurassic World attraction.

Lines were huge. Everyone was loud and excited. Having express tickets helped you go to the shorter lines, but those were also too long. I don’t care! I’m going on this ride even if it takes the whole day!

Surprisingly, Gojo wasn’t interested in going on this ride, so you and Fushiguro used him as a walking coat hanger. He carried your bags. Came back from time to time to bring food. Every time he popped up, Gojo was carrying a different type of sweet. Churros, crepes, ice cream–

“Are your check up exams up to date?” You asked when he leaned on the grid that conducted the line by your side again while eating churros.

“Yeah. Why?”

“I’m asking myself how can you not have diabetes.” You eyed his churros with a bit of worry. “Or cavities on every tooth.”

Gojo pouted and had the audacity to send the puppy eyes your way. “Oooow. You worried for me, doc? That’s cute. I’m honored!” You saw him passing his tongue over his teeth before opening a big grin. “My teeth are great! My dentist hates me, ‘cause I never spend too much on him with treatments. I don’t need ‘em!”

“I’m thirsty.” Fushiguro said out of the blue, lifting his eyes from the phone. “Can you bring me a water bottle?”

“Wow. Since you were so polite!” Gojo shrugged and walked away with a backpack on each shoulder.

The girls on the line near you eyed him and whispered among themselves again. They did it every time he approached. They spared you quick scared glances, too.

Huh.

“He has reverse cursed energy.”

You looked at Fushiguro with a puzzled expression. His sentence came so out of the blue.

“What?” That term sounded familiar.

“Reverse cursed energy.” He repeated. Fushiguro had his forearms resting over the grid. He watched Gojo go with a slight frown. “Regular cursed energy can’t heal, but the reversal can. Gojo-sensei reverses his cursed energy all the time. It keeps healing his body 24/7.”

“Ooh.” You looked at Gojo’s back, too, as he became smaller and smaller. A little dandelion in the crowd. The reveal was a bit shocking. “So he heals himself from having diabetes all the time?”

“Something like that.”

“Why does he need to heal himself like that?” You couldn’t think of an instance (in the normal world, at least) where this would be necessary.

Fushiguro frowned a little. “It’s because of the Infinity. Keeping it activated all the time is tiring and damages his brain, too. So he has to heal himself constantly to keep it working.”

You wouldn’t mention it out loud, of course, because you knew Fushiguro would hate you forever if you did. But you noticed it there… hidden in his tone. Fushiguro was always full of insults, rolling his eyes at Gojo, showing his disliking towards him… but as he talked about Gojo’s ability, he couldn’t hide that.

Admiration.

Astonishment, even.

It made you smile a little. Fushiguro couldn’t hide everything inside that hard exterior, after all.

“It’s what Ieiri-san does too, right? To heal others?” Fushiguro nodded. That’s where you first heard it – coming from her. You looked at him. “Can you do that, too?”

Fushiguro snorted and shook his head. The line walked, so you walked too. “No. That’s way beyond my current level.”

“But you will learn at some point. Right?”

He scratched his own head. Fushiguro’s hair was so shiny. The shampoo I picked is doing wonders for him! “It’s not something that you learn like that. Most people don’t know how to do it, and those who know can’t really teach it. Like the idiot.” He shrugged again. “Might be impossible for me.”

If it’s something so hard to do… and Gojo did it to himself all the time, twenty four hours a day…

Just how far ahead was Gojo from the rest of jujutsu sorcerers?

After one hour on the line, it was finally your turn. You didn’t get the front seats – to the second row you went – but oh well, can’t have everything. You were giddy, giggling, vibrating with excitement. Fushiguro was quiet, but his eyes were definitely a bit widened.

The thing moved. You felt about to spit out your heart. Yelled at the top of your lungs on the first drop – and, well, the rest of the ride, too. Adrenaline!! This is what I like!! This is my thing!! Fushiguro didn’t scream, but you definitely caught the oooh’s! and ugh’s! coming his way. 

Over a minute later (an hour for a minute. Damn), when the coaster car parked back on its launching spot, you caught him smiling.

It wasn’t a grin. There weren't a lot of teeth showing there. But he was smiling nevertheless. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were still a bit widened, he was out of breath.

You realized that was the first time you ever saw Fushiguro smile. From the moment you met him back in April at the hospital… it was the first time he showed a smile.

That warmed your heart in ways you couldn’t explain.

“That was– that was insane!” You exclaimed, giggling, heaving. He nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah– it was.” It seemed that he realized he was smiling, so he did his best to gulp the chuckles and go back to his nonchalant self. It was cute.

Gojo was waiting for you out there. A backpack on each shoulder.

Wearing your blue cap.

You gave it to him because it’d fly off your head on the rollercoaster. You didn’t expect he’d wear it.

He looked–

Fuck.

He looked great.

You shouldn’t be surprised. Gojo was incapable of looking ugly. But– he looked young. And yes, it was stupid; Gojo didn’t have the appearance of someone older than his actual age, but it was so easy to forget he was only a year older than you. Yes, Gojo acted like a spoiled kid most of the time; simultaneously, he acted like someone older. Like those moments of serenity where he could make you feel safe. Whenever he talked about jujutsu overall. He looked wise in a way a normal twenty seven year old wouldn’t.

Yet, he still was only twenty seven.

Your navy blue cap fit him well. Of course it’d compliment his blue eyes, barely peeking from the dark glasses. He eyed his phone with a playful little smile.

You frowned.

“What you giggling at?” You asked with suspicion.

“Nothing!” He put his phone back in his pocket whilst giving Fushiguro’s backpack back. “Where to next?” 

He absently took the cap from his head and put it back on yours.

Okay. Okay. Mmmh.

You spent the following three hours checking which lines were shorter on the app and running after them. Turns out you managed to go on two other coasters, and just because the Waterworld show started and most people ran there to watch it (none of you were interested). You checked on Mayu every minute. Luckily, she replied the same second you texted, and kept sending photos on the group chat. Gojo did the same. 

After you stopped to eat, Fushiguro excused himself to go to the bathroom. There was a huge Sanrio merch store nearby — and you went there, obviously.

The store was packed. It was hard to even walk in there. Regardless, you went after Kuromi’s merch (Mayu’s favorite), Hello Kitty (Remi’s favorite) and Pompompurin (Aunt Junko’s favorite). Everything was expensive as hell. A keyring will do. 

Your eyes landed on a Cinnamorrol keyring.

An instinctive smile crept up your lips.

“Look! That’s—“

The words retracted inside your mouth. You shut your lips faster than the speed of light.

Gojo leaned down a bit with a confused expression.

“What?”

I’m not gonna say it.

I’m 100% not the first girl to say he looks like Cinnamorrol. Nope. I ain’t doing that.

“Nothing.”

He gave a quick look at the keyrings and then back to you. He smirked. Shit shit shit.

“Hmm… I might have an idea.”

“You know nothing.”

Gojo shrugged, but that smirk was still there. He disappeared inside the store for a second while you still looked at plushies and cute phone cases.

He popped up again out of the blue.

“You know, I thought the bracelet I gave you would be full of charms already!”

You frowned. “Huh?”

He pointed at the bracelet — the anchor. “Ain’t it why you girls like it? To fill it with a bunch of little trinkets?”

Instinctively, you raised your right wrist to eye level. Uh… the bracelet really was made for that. But you were so busy all the time that the thought of decorating it with charms never crossed your mind.

“I’ll have to inaugurate it, then.” Gojo pouted and shook his head theatrically. “Poor me. Always doing everything.”

Gojo took your wrist again.

Swiftly, he hooked a little charm on the bracelet.

A tiny Keroppi. The frog.

He pointed at it and opened a boyish smile.

“That’s you!”

Green. Keroppi is green. Green, like most of the stuff you owned because of the family’s silly tradition. 

Green like his shirt.

You noticed, with your heart pumping to a ridiculous speed, that your overshirt was light blue. His color.

You were wearing his. He was wearing yours.

Shit. Fuck. Your stomach was dropping again, and you weren’t even on a rollercoaster.

Why was this starting to feel like a date?

It wasn’t a date. You don’t take siblings on dates. Right? This wasn’t even about you, it was about Mayu. It was about her having fun after a month of being locked up. You were there just to be The Adult.

Right? 

Right?!

But then there he was— putting stupid cute trinkets on your bracelet, something that reminded him of you, a character that resembled you, wearing your color, wearing your cap and carrying your bag, talking about how “this time” would be “more unforgettable” than when you came here with your ex.

It might mean nothing. Maybe he’s just being nice.

Yeah. That’s it. Uh-hum.

Shit.

Fuck it.

You took the Cinnamorrol watch on the shelf.

It was a plastic one, those worn by kids, digital, white and blue. You for sure weren’t the first girl to do it, but fuck it. Whatever. Whatever!

“That’s you.” You said, smiling.

His smile widened. His cute dimple peeked. Jesus fucking Christ.

A little giggle escaped past his lips. With much ease, he unclasped his Hublot (a freaking Hublot!) and offered his right wrist.

You put the stupid Cinnamorrol watch around his wrist. It was difficult, because his wrist was thicker than a child’s. You had to clasp it on the last hole; still, it was tight. 

He giggled. You giggled. The two of you, blue and green, standing in this crowded Sanrio store, blocking the corridor and an old lady was pissed because she wanted to pass, like two fucking idiots, because somehow this was funny.

And you still had to pay for all this shit.

It took another twenty minutes on the cashier line. Twenty minutes of feeling your neck and cheeks warm because you were giggly and he was, too.

Welp.

Shit.

Fushiguro was waiting on a bench outside. Some girls nearby were eyeing him and blushing, though it seemed that the boy hadn’t even noticed (or cared).

“Let’s go,” you said, stopping in front of him. “We don’t have much longer.”

“Okay.”

He finally lifted his eyes and saw the Badtz-Maru keyring you waved in front of him.

He widened his eyes slightly. “Huh?”

“That’s you.”

You left it on his lap and pretended to not see his ears flushing.

Gojo had already disappeared inside an ice cream parlor. As expected of him. As you walked with Fushiguro a few steps behind, you imagined the little people that made your body function desperately trying to cool down your inner thermostat, shining red of how hot it was, throwing buckets of water on it while it went tsssss. Be normal. Be normal. Be fucking normal. 

He came out of the ice cream parlor holding a large chocolate milkshake with extra chocolate topping, extra whipped cream, and pieces of chocolate mixed. 

“Alrighty!” He said as soon as both you and Fushiguro got close enough. “Now’s my turn to pick the next ride! Come on!”

Well. He really had just been following you, not complaining about the rides you’d decided. You shrugged and went after him.

“D’you wanna go to the Super Mario World now? It’s probably still super crowded.” You said absently, checking the park’s app to see the capacity in real time.

“Nah! Somewhere much more interesting!” He leaned his head down a little, slowing his pace (one kilometer legs) to match yours. “Besides, if you’d already been there with Ren-kun, what’s the point?”

You glared at him. “Oh, you definitely want his number. I don’t have it anymore, but I can ask Remi if you want.”

Gojo giggled in an evil tone you didn’t quite like. “Let’s go! We have to get there before the attraction closes!”

And then he was back to his original fast pace. 

Truth be told – you were already at that point of the day where your legs were starting to hurt real bad from walking so much and standing in lines. The lack of decent sleep was starting to catch up, too. Fortunately, it was already 4PM, so you’d be going home soon… if the girls showed up on time, that is. I’ll kill them all if they don’t.

You took the phone from your pocket and checked on Mayu again. She had sent a selfie a few minutes ago; the three girls pouting in a dramatic way. the lines are so looooong :(. 

you: did you girls eat?

mayu-chan ♡: yeppp

mayu-chan ♡: huge cheeseburger so yummyyy

mayu-chan ♡: acchan hurt her ankle tho

mayu-chan ♡: bc of her boot

you: i put bandaids in your bag

mayu-chan ♡: :O 

mayu-chan ♡: WHAT

you: figured you wouldn’t have noticed

Three minutes later, Mayu sent another pic: Acchan sitting on the floor, smiling, thumbs up, with a bandaid on her right ankle. 

mayu-chan ♡: NEE-CHAN IS THE BEST ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

mayu-chan ♡: …

mayu-chan ♡: i didnt type that

mayu-chan ♡: it was acchan

mayu-chan ♡: ew

You laughed.

“Where are we going?” Fushiguro’s voice brought you back to reality.

You finally put your phone in the back pocket and checked your surroundings. Uh… if you weren’t mistaken, you were going south… near the Harry Potter attractions. So the only place you could be heading to was…

“The haunted house?” 

Gojo looked back and grinned.

“You scared of this type of thing?”

You crossed your arms and shrugged. “Not really.”

It wasn’t a lie. Horror movies aren’t that scary when you’re used to seeing weird fucking creatures lurking every day. It’s strange how the existence of curses was so normalized in your life, even when you didn’t know they were called “curses” or before you even knew they were not imaginary. So… yeah. Sadako from The Ring didn’t compare to the stuff you saw in the hospital.

Huh.

Gojo wouldn’t be scared of this type of thing, either. Would he? He was used to killing these things, right?

Fushiguro groaned like a kid. “Why are we going there?”

“Because it’ll be fun!” Gojo turned around, now walking backwards and gesticulating widely. “Don’t y’all know that the USJ haunted house is known to be the best in the country? The animatronics and costumes are insane! I want to see it with my own eyes!”

Fair.

You just kept walking.

Mayu texted a few more times. Your feet were really starting to hurt. Remi texted too – she had argued with Keito again – and you rolled your eyes before reading everything she was typing. Their relationship was so messy. But you knew Remi liked it that way. Girl was incapable of having a healthy relationship, it felt that she was more of an adrenaline junkie than you were–

“Wait.”

Once again, Fushiguro’s stern voice brought you back to reality.

You looked up from your phone.

First things first.

The surrounding area was empty.

You looked around, confused. The park had been crowded anywhere you went; from squares to bathrooms to stores. Why was it so empty now? What had happened?

The haunted house was just ahead. It was a huge attraction: the size of an actual manor, exactly like those cliche horror movie houses. Two stores, painted to look abandoned; the glass of the windows was cracked, but every window had a black screen so whoever was inside couldn’t see outside. A constant fog of dry ice surrounded the set design. The whole atmosphere was very convincing, to be honest. You felt a shiver in the back of your neck.

Wait.

You stopped walking abruptly. Fushiguro stopped, too.

Wait.

That bad feeling in your gut. It couldn’t be because of the burger you had an hour ago. No, it was different. A feeling you were familiar with. A discomfort. A shiver. Something telling you to turn around and run.

Wait.

Gojo had stopped walking, too. His back faced you. His posture was relaxed.

“I knew it!” Fushiguro was exasperated beside you. You looked at him; the boy was grimacing, taking somehow of a… ready stance? Fight stance? “I knew you wouldn’t have brought everyone here out of nowhere without a reason!”

“What?” Was everything you could mutter childishly.

Fushiguro spared you a quick look before locking eyes on the house ahead again.

“There’s a curse there!”

A curse?

A curse?

What?

Gojo’s back was still facing you. He put his free hand on his hip.

“You know, the haunted house scared people so bad that something real popped in there! What a bummer!” He slurped his milkshake. “The park refused to close it anyway. Said they’d lose too much if they closed during the high season. A bunch of greedy fuckers, right?”

It happened fast.

In a second, he was standing a few steps in front of you.

The next, he was standing behind you.

Gojo pushed you and Fushiguro on the back. The boy almost tripped and fell with the strength of the push; it felt that he was a bit gentler on you, but it still forced you to step ahead.

“Luckily you’re here to solve everything!”

You looked back at him.

What?

With his right hand, Gojo made a quick handsign; index and middle finger pointed up near his chest. He muttered rapidly in a deep voice: “Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

Another shiver ran down your spine.

The floor started to take a weird color… no, it wasn’t the floor; you looked up. A translucent dome appeared on top of the house, meters and meters up, slowly making its way down; sunlight trespassed the dome, painting everything in a strange, eerie purplish color. 

You were familiar with this translucent dome and this feeling. The hospital had one of these; the house, too, though they felt slightly different.

A curtain.

What?

Gojo grinned.

“Let’s see…” he checked the watch. The stupid Cinnamorrol plastic watch you had tied on his wrist. “I’d say you have around half an hour to exorcise the curse, aight? We don’t wanna get late to pick up the girls!”

“What do you mean– we?!” You’d never seen Fushiguro this exasperated. “What is she going to do?!”

You hated how you could notice Gojo’s eyes locking on you despite the dark sunglasses. His smirk got more evil.

“I don’t know! She’ll show me!”

What?!

The translucent dome was almost completely down. You realized, feeling your stomach drop, that Gojo stood outside of its protection.

“Someone’s gotta look out for the girls!” He waved goodbye innocently while still smiling like the evilest human being to step on this earth. “Good luck!”

The dome touched the floor, painting everything around the haunted house in purple shades.

You couldn’t see Gojo anymore. 

You couldn’t see anything outside of the barrier.

Your heart raced. Your mouth got dry.

There was a real curse in there. A real curse.

You weren’t scared of curses back then because they didn’t perceive you. It was as if you didn’t exist; so you thought they didn’t exist, too. But curses were real, and there was one inside the house. One so bad that it made your stomach turn. Made you want to run away. 

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

What the fuck?!

Fushiguro was still exasperated. He messed his own hair in annoyance and dropped his backpack on the floor, eyeing the house’s windows with attention and urgency. 

“What– Why–?” Was all you could stupidly mutter, because you were already too nervous to function.

“He always does this!” His hiss sounded so bitter. “Impromptu trip my ass! He just wanted someone to do the job for him!”  

So–

That’s how he got the last minute train tickets? The last minute express passes? He wasn’t just being nice to Mayu? Gojo was working and tricked you all into it?

Your knees were weak.

You wanted to kill him.

You wanted to punch his fucking face. Make him swallow his own sunglasses. What the actual fuck?! He woke you up at four in the morning to make you work for him?! He– he just dropped you to deal with a curse alongside the fourteen year old?!

All that stupid fondness from minutes ago, the butterflies in your stomach you felt inside the Sanrio store– all gone. Gojo Satoru was an asshole. A fucking asshole. And to think for a second, you considered this could be a date. A date?! What kind of date forces you to fight a spiritual creature?!

Fushiguro was still nervous. He looked around rapidly.

“Mori-san, hide in between the bushes. I’ll take care of the curse and we’ll leave.”

You nodded because you didn’t know what else to do. “What if I– leave?”

“You can’t exit a curtain from inside. The curse hasn't noticed us yet. Go hide!”

And for a second, you really were going to hide.

But then you remembered being in between supermarket aisles with him.

I don’t know if you have enough crazy in ya.

Pause.

You stated that you were crazy. That you had a fighting spirit. That you could deal with gore. That you wouldn’t be surprised. That you were a war horse getting used to loud noises.

Gojo was testing you.

Making you have fun, be relaxed, then throwing you in the fire. Taking you by surprise. This wasn’t about him slacking off or making you two do his job; it was about Gojo inspecting you, because you told him you could do it.

And the worst part – you couldn’t complain about his assholery, because you asked for it.

If you simply cowered away in the bushes and let Fushiguro fight the curse alone, he’d never teach you what to do with your technique. You’d have to be defenseless, useless, under their protection until the case was solved – if it ever got solved.

Worse than that.

You tried to ignore the little voice of truth speaking in the back of your mind, but it was impossible.

If you cowered away, Gojo would be disappointed.

And that, for some fucking reason, despite the fact that you still wanted to smack him, was motivation enough.

You tightened your wrists and dropped your own backpack on the floor.

“I’ll follow you.”

Fushiguro was surprised. And confused. And irritated.

“What?”

“I’ll follow you.” You repeated more firmly this time. “He– he said we should take care of it, right? So I’ll help you.” Even though you didn’t know how the fuck you could help him.

Fushiguro was still irritated, and you felt stupid to ask permission to the teenager to participate. Yet, despite the age, he was much more experienced than you. Offering any kind of support would be the best you could do.

He looked at the eerie haunted house again and nodded, groaning with frustration.

“Just– stay close to me. All the time. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

Fushiguro ran towards the front doors. You ran after him.

You wanted to vomit.

That feeling— that shiver in the nape of your neck— it had never been worse. As soon as you trespassed the front doors, you knew you were inside the curse’s territory. You’d never felt anything like that before. And not because you were just feeling it, but—

The inside of the manor wasn’t what you were expecting.

A dark place… fake spider webs… fake blood… creepy noises… all the usual decorations you’d find inside a haunted house. And sure, this stuff was there, too.

Under a thick layer of green slime.

That thing— it was everywhere. Bright green like fake radioactive goop from bad sci-fi movies. Dripping from the walls, covering the floor; your shoes were immediately drenched in the strange slime. The floor was ridiculously slippery and you would’ve fallen on your butt if you hadn’t gripped Fushiguro’s forearm in time. Both of you were forced to halt five steps into the house. It was impossible to run.

It smelled of pus.

You were familiar with that smell.

The door closed violently behind you.

Before you could even properly understand what the fuck was happening, Fushiguro’s voice reached your ears.

“Shit—“

He pushed you.

Violently.

You flew to the other side of the corridor. You back hit the wall. Air was knocked off your lungs. The disgusting green slime covered your clothes.

You fell on the floor near the wall — and when you looked up, you understood him.

Fushiguro pushed you out of the way as a flock of something attacked him.

You didn’t know what the fuck you were looking at at first. It looked like… birds? Small, violent birds? They flew around Fushiguro, fast  and  aggressive, in synchronicity. It was as if you were seeing a huge school of fish moving like one body, trying to mislead a predator; except they were attacking Fushiguro instead of defending.

Fushiguro fought back.

His fists were enveloped in that bright blue flame you now understood as cursed energy. He twisted in the air, striking an impressive high kick that was enough to pulverize an entire line of whatever the fuck he was fighting against. As soon as his feet touched the floor again with a loud disgusting splosh, he made a quick hand sign with both hands and yelled Divine Dogs!

The two wolfdogs from before appeared from thin air; they came from the wall behind Fushiguro as if they were made of the shadows themselves. The black one immediately leaped against the unidentified creatures. The white one rushed to your side. You realized with relief that it wasn’t limping anymore.

You put your hand on the wall, trying to find some support to get up again, but it was also slippery and – ew ew ew ew – covered in green goo. It took another attempt of your hand slipping on the wall and your feet sliding as if you were trying to ice skate to get up. By then, Fushiguro had already eliminated the flock.

Your eyes focused on the last strange creature before the black dog bit it, making it disappear in black ashes.

They…

They were tadpoles?

Tadpoles the size of pigeons? 

“Are you okay?” Fushiguro asked, making an effort to approach you. It also looked like he was trying to ice skate on the slippery floor, which made you feel a bit less pathetic. He was barely out of breath. That entire fight, as quick as it was, looked like it took no significant effort.

In all honesty? Hell no. Your back hurt from the strength of his push (a part of you was kinda mad at him), the entire fucking place smelled of pus, and all that goop over your clothes made you want to vomit. Were you going to admit that? Hell no².

“Yeah– I’m–”

You didn’t have time to finish that sentence.

Ploc.

The sound immediately made the two of you shut up.

A wet sound. As if someone squeezed a boiled egg in their hand.

It came from above.

You both looked up at the same time… and you, honest to God, felt about to shit your pants.

Eggs.

Hundreds of eggs.

They covered the entirety of the ceiling. Hundreds and hundred and hundreds of orange eggs; the shells were soft, and a stupid part of you rapidly associated them with Dragon Balls, except Goku didn’t collect Dragon Balls that were covered in disgusting green goop and you were sure those eggs wouldn’t summon Shenlong. 

Ploc.

Your skin crawled in pure disgust as the eggs started to… move. Shake slightly. Ploc.

They were hatching.

One after the other, in a wave.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me–” you cussed under your breath, because of fucking course those eggs had to hatch as soon as you crossed the front doors, of fucking curse the timing would be so accurate–

“Let’s go!” Fushiguro gripped your wrist and ran.

Splosh splosh splosh splosh every step of yours went against the goop covered floor. You rapidly looked back in time to watch new tadpoles hatching from the eggs; they screeched like little rats, like hearing someone scratch glass with a blade, and you almost shrieked, too. Fushiguro was fast (way too fast) despite the slippery floor, his iron grip around your wrist honestly painful. You wouldn’t complain about it, of course, as at least he was doing something.

You two flew upstairs as soon as it appeared just ahead. The second floor was also covered in green goop; your eyes quickly passed by a deactivated animatronic – was that a demon nun? – and a less important part of your brain went yeah, Gojo was right, the animatronics are sick, before Fushiguro dragged you inside the first room he could find and slammed the door shut.

For a moment, the screeching of the tadpoles was muffled. The two dogs stood near the door growling viciously. Fushiguro’s back was against the door.

You looked at each other in shocked silence for two seconds.

Shit.

“Why are there so many of them?” You asked quietly in the hopes the things out there wouldn’t track you. You were used to seeing small curses in the hospital, like the mutant rat, or big curses around the city – but never so many like that. 

“Weaker curses gather together like that to attack.” He said rapidly. Not that it explained a lot, but oh well. “This house is infested.”

“We’ll have to–” You interrupted yourself for a second because we? “We’ll” have? I’m not doing anything relevant!, before continuing; “we’ll have to kill them one by one? There are hundreds out there! And– there are more eggs down the hall!”

“One single attack strong enough should do it.” Fushiguro scratched his own head angrily. “Nue should do it– but this place doesn’t have enough space for him.”

“What is Nue?”

“My shikigami.”

“Huh?”

“It’s a big bird!” He did not have enough patience. “You’ll end up caught in its attack too if you stand too close.”

So you were a hindrance.

Bam! 

Something slammed the door from outside. Some things, in fact, hundreds of small things knocking against the door violently, screeching in a way that made you want to blow up your own eardrums.

Fushiguro kept his back glued against the door. The dogs groaned, their fur bristly, their fangs in full display.

You heard the sound of wood cracking.

A small hole on the door. It was enough for a tadpole to cross it.

Another one followed. And another, and another and another–

A cloud of tadpoles from hell invaded the room.

You shrieked and tried to protect your head with your hands; you walked back on instinct, tripped and fell – there was a bed behind you. A bed? Oh– that was a replica of the bedroom from The Exorcist, right–? There’s no time to notice stupid things! The tadpoles gathered in an organized formation again, a cloud moving as one to attack Fushiguro and his dogs.

You froze on the bed.

Fushiguro fought furiously. He kicked and punched and stomped, each strike taking down dozens of tadpoles at once. The dogs bit and clawed, turning everything they touched to dust. Fushiguro actually knew what he was doing; his each movement had intent, calculated strength, sharpened reflexes that could sense that a little creature was about to bite his nape before it even happened, eyes that could follow their fast movements.

What could you do?

You couldn’t move like that. Not at all. Shit– I did karate when I was, like, seven? Just ‘cause everyone at school did it! I don’t remember a single movement! And yeah, it’s not like you’d never fought in your life before. But gripping hair, slapping faces and kicking someone in the balls didn’t compare to what Fushiguro was doing. 

What is she going to do?!

I don’t know! She’ll show me!

You shrieked.

I don’t know either! I don’t know what I have to do! I don’t know how to help!

“Mori-san–” Fushiguro tried in between strikes. “Mori-s–” A punch. The black dog groaned and bit another tadpole. “Mori-san! Leave this room! I’ll– I’ll summon Nue!”

This cleared your mind for a split second. Whatever the fuck this Nue thing could do, it would end up hurting you. You got off the bed, letting a ridiculous scream escape when a couple of tadpoles glued on your arm – ew ew ew ew!! – before shaking it violently. Fushiguro managed to finish breaking the door with one kick; he and the two dogs offered you an opening.

“Go!!”

You obeyed.

As soon as you jumped through the door, you slipped and fell on your knees, sliding down the corridor. Your were drenched in this disgusting goo – and you hadn’t stopped to think that this could be poisonous or radioactive yet – before somehow getting up and running (splosh splosh splosh) towards the next door you could find.

You entered it and slam the door shut, pressing your back against it.

The room was a replica of the dirty bathroom from SAW 1. No windows in this one.

Shit shit shit shit.

You couldn’t stop shaking. Your hand gripped the door handle like your life depended on it. The noises out there– you could still hear it; the screeching, the barking and groaning, Fushiguro’s grunts, the ploc ploc ploc of more eggs hatching. Shit. Fuck! How could this even be happening?! Ten minutes ago, you were just an ordinary person walking around a thematic park! You just wanted to go on some rollercoasters and buy cute merch! You thought you’d have a normal evening with your sister for once!

You couldn’t function. You couldn’t think. There were hundreds of little curses out there. You couldn’t move. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe Gojo was right. Maybe I’m not built for this type of thing, because– what can I even do?! I can’t– I can’t even–

Male around 40 years old. 

Civil construction worker. Fell from a height of approximately 4 meters. Unconscious. Brought in by EMS, wearing a cervical collar on a spinal board. Labored breathing. Scalp laceration. Glasgow coma scale: 8.

You gulped.

How long ago that was? A month already? You didn’t remember for sure. You didn’t remember the patient’s name, either. You remembered he had a tattoo. 2010-09-02 ♡ Sana. Sana’s husband, or father, you never knew. The man that came to you while the entire ER team was busy with other cases.

I’ll take the lead. Full trauma protocol. Let’s go— ABCDE.

It was what you said that day.

Only newbie nurses and inexperienced technicians. Yet, you took the lead. You distributed orders in a calm yet firm voice, because you needed to display confidence. You acted quickly because each minute brought death closer to the patient. You intubated him without sparing a second thought, without shaking your hand once. 

Wasn’t it what you did in your everyday life?

Patients on the verge of death. Head traumas, strokes, cardiac arrests, domestic accidents. 

You walked side by side with death every single time you stepped into that hospital. Yet, you never panicked, because panic could mean the end of someone else’s life. The ER team was what stood between life and death, between a good recovery or life changing sequelae. Adrenaline was the air you breathed inside the ER. You lived and thrived off it. 

What was so different from that and what you were experiencing at that moment?

You weren’t someone unfamiliar to working under extreme pressure, the type of pressure a normal person would probably never face in their entire life. The frenetic beeping of a heart monitor; the moment you’d have to get ready to defibrillate a patient knowing every second counted. You could be relaxed in one second, then the next hear the doors of the ER opening, stretcher wheels, paramedics screaming, Tanaka-san rushing the entire team into the red zone. 

You tightened your fist.

Autopilot.

No time for emotions. No time. As if you were running into the red zone. As if there was a patient in a critical condition to be tended.

Except this time, it was yours – and Fushiguro’s – lives on the line.

Your hands stopped shaking.

Fushiguro, the fourteen year old, was still fighting out there. Screeching. Splosh splosh. Ploc ploc.

You have to think.

How can I help him?

Hiding certainly wouldn’t be of much help. But at the same time, you couldn’t fight like him. You’d just end up getting hurt. 

You slapped your own forehead with your palms repeatedly. Think! Think! What can I do? How can I help? 

Something dangling caught your eye.

Keroppi.

The tiny charm Gojo attached to your bracelet. You looked at it, palms still against your forehead.

Tadpoles are baby frogs.

There are hundreds – maybe thousands – of eggs out there. 

You didn’t know how curse biology worked, but if it followed the natural course of things, something gave birth to those eggs. 

Fushiguro was fighting against the babies. Weaker curses attack together. But where was the mom?

That’s it.

You opened the door and ran before the mere possibility of being afraid appeared.

The ceiling above you was infested with eggs, though not all of them were hatching. Fushiguro was keeping the waves of little curses busy, which granted you an advantage. You ran, splosh splosh splosh, tripped on the slippery goop and fell once, got up and kept running. This house isn’t a labyrinth. The visitors are supposed to get scared from room to room, each animatronic and actor pushing them towards the exit.

If your supposition was right, the house had a U format. You entered it from the right; the corridors would lead to the exit on the left. You were praying that this theory was right and that the curse really followed normal biology, because you were supposing the “mom” would be in the central area – the safest one. At least, that’s where queen bees are located inside hives.

You were on the farthest part of the “U”. You took the turn; the corridor opened to the front hall down there, a different part from where you entered, but that was a smaller replica of the entrance hall of the hotel from The Shining. You stopped on the second floor balcony and gripped the railing to steady yourself.

Down there.

In the middle of the hall.

You didn’t know if you were happy or terrified of being right.

There was a mother frog. 

And she was the size of a cow.

The curse was just sitting there, indeed very resemblant of an actual frog; the thing was a bright shade of purple. Mountains of eggs gathered around the curse. You noticed with disgust that almost made you vomit that it was still giving birth; the eggs popped from its back continuously, sliding down its body to form more mountains. There was so much green goop on the floor that it wasn’t possible to know what color the carpet underneath was.

You gripped the railing.

Fushiguro was busy fighting. You couldn’t simply call him. But you couldn’t let that thing alive. There was no guarantee that the tadpoles wouldn’t grow to become giant cow-sized frogs as well. 

You didn’t have a weapon. You didn’t have fighting skills.

But your technique was Extinguisment.

The sole property of your cursed energy was a nullifier. Curses were made of cursed energy.

You didn’t know if the thing was strong; but Gojo’s voice echoed in the back of your mind. I’m trying to fight your cursed energy back, but I just can’t.

Gojo Satoru, sorcerer-teacher-whatever, the strongest person you’d ever met in your goddamn life, couldn’t fight your cursed energy. So that fucking frog down there couldn’t, either.

Autopilot. No time for emotions. Not time for fear.

There was no guarantee that the curse wouldn’t notice you going downstairs.

So you leaped over the railing and jumped.

A part of you thought, if you miscalculate this jump, you’ll fall flat on the floor and fucking die. But this part of you had this thought as you were already halfway down. 

And luckily, you didn’t mismatch the jump.

You fell on the curse’s back.

Gross!! Fucking gross!! You fell on top of the eggs, felt the pressure of your body splashing them. It was slippery and fucking disgusting, it smelled so bad that you refused to breathe through your nose; still, you gripped the curse’s back for dear life, sinking your nails on its skin so you wouldn’t slip out of its back. You tried your best to hug the thing in some sort of sloppy headlock–

The frog screamed.

It wasn’t an animalistic screech. It was a scream. A human woman’s yell. 

It tried to shake you off its back. You gripped even harder. Don’t fall don’t fall don’t fall–

The curse kept screaming, and every second the sound became worse, more desperate, more guttural. The skin on its back was burning. Anywhere your skin touched was becoming blackened. As if you were made of salt. 

Your simple touch was killing it.

Don’t let go! Don’t let go! Don’t let go!!

Screeches. 

You looked over your shoulder for a moment and felt your stomach drop; a new wave of tadpoles flew down to the first floor, getting in formation, ready to defend their mother. There were so many of them that the ceiling became black. 

If there was piss in your bladder, you would’ve pissed your pants right there.

Shit.

Then, the next second–

“Nue!”

You didn’t properly see what happened, both because the curse frog wouldn’t stop shaking, and because whatever unfolded happened behind the cloud of tadpoles. And then you couldn’t see anything at all because a flashlight blinded you. 

The deafening sound of a thunder – so close that you felt your bones and teeth shake.

Electricity. The lightning permeated the entire cloud of curses, spreading from one to another in a chain of pure death; they were pulverized one by one, disappearing in clouds of black ash with a last horrifying screech. And above it… yeah, calling it a big bird was the best way to describe it. The winged creature of copper feathers covered almost the entirety of the ceiling. 

Fushiguro stood on the balcony of the second floor, watching you with widened eyes.

He was right. You didn’t want to imagine what would’ve happened to you if you were close to that electric attack.

The frog was still yelling.

Your grip around it tightened. You looked down at it angrily. “Just die already!!”

Black flames.

It was the third time you witnessed it. Now, you knew it wasn't flames; it was your own cursed energy enveloping the spiritual creature under you. Extinguishing it. 

The curse screamed in agony for one last time.

The next second – a cloud of ashes.

You fell on the ground.

Silence.

Your heart pounded in your ears. You rolled, laying on your back, frozen.

Ash. Ash everywhere. The tadpoles were gone. The eggs were disappearing in ash, too… and the green slime. It was all disintegrating in ash. You lifted your arms to eye level; the goop was vanishing from your body and clothes, too, and suddenly you were dry again, as if none of that even existed in the first place.

Tap tap tap tap. Fushiguro ran downstairs. You sat up.

“Is it over?” You asked in astonishment.

“Yeah.” A thin layer of sweat covered Fushiguro’s forehead. His eyes were widened as if he’d just gotten out of another rollercoaster. 

“Are you hurt?” Your eyes scanned his body rapidly.

“Mori-san, you’re bleeding.”

Huh? 

Oh. Crap.

You immediately got on your fours, startling Fushiguro. 

“I’m not hurt– it’s my fucking nose– it’s bleeding again.” I’m gonna get my clothes dirty!

“Can I help–”

“Yeah, please bring my bag. I dropped outside. There are tissues there.”

Tap tap tap tap tap. Fushiguro ran outside. You kept that stupid position, watching the blood drip from your nose on the carpet. Why is this happening again?

Tap tap tap tap tap. He was back in less than a minute, dropping to his knees beside you, backpack in hand. You muttered a quiet thank you before shoving your hand inside the bag and quickly taking the box of tissues, pressing a bunch against your nose.

You finally sat like a normal person again.

No shivers anymore. Things were looking normal again… no more eerie purple shades. The curtain was lifted.

Fushiguro sat by your side in silence.

You eyed him.

“You fight really fucking well.” Your voice was muffled because of the tissues against your nose. His ears flushed again. Fushiguro scratched the back of his head.

“That was nothing.”

“Nothing? Huh, that makes you sound even more amazing.” You elbowed his side jokingly. “Thanks for saving me from the tadpoles.”

“That was… nothing.” It seemed he didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know how to deal with compliments. His ears were still flushing, though – and the ghost of a little smile was there in the corner of his lips.

Adrenaline was starting to wear off. Your legs hurt like hell… a spot in your back hurt, too. What the fuck did you just do? Was this place really covered in green slime three minutes ago? Did all that even happen–?

“Congratulations on your first exorcism!”

You looked up.

Gojo was standing by the door.

Leaning on the door frame. One hand was shoved in the front pocket of his pants; the other, still holding the milkshake cup. Relaxed. Nonchalant. As if he hadn’t thrown you two to fight an army of tadpoles from hell. 

His sunglasses were down the bridge of his nose. You could actually see his eyes at that moment.

Locked on you.

There was a little smirk there. Something in his eyes you’d never seen. A… fire. Excitement? He had never looked at you like that before. It made your stomach drop. Made your nape feel warm. 

“Turns out you do have enough crazy in you.”

A goosebump.

It had nothing to do with any curse now, however.

You wanted to smack him.

Slap his fucking face. Kick him on the balls. He tricked you into this, made a perfectly happy day become a nightmare. 

But you knew you had no right to complain.

So you put the cap back on your head, gripped your backpack and got up. Walked up to him at heavy steps. Gojo’s eyes didn’t wander away from you for a second. He was intrigued. He wanted to see what you’d do.

You stopped in front of him.

Snatched the milkshake from his hand and walked away.

Gojo chuckled, but you didn’t look back. No. I need distance from him. I need to breathe.

Not only because you were angry at him. Not even because he was an asshole.

But because – the way he looked at you.

Gojo Satoru, sorcerer-teacher-whatever; the “sheriff” of Jujutsu world. The guy that couldn’t even be touched; who could fly, teleport, warp space to his will. The sorcerer that made grown men shake in fear. 

You impressed that man.

He was happy to see you fight.

And you were angry at yourself, at your own pride, because even though he was a fucking asshole – even though you were angry at him – the fact that you passed his test made you happier than no rollercoaster could ever make you feel.

The milkshake was really good, actually.

You slurped everything on the way. You didn’t even notice you were wandering around a crowded park alone because you were still riding high from adrenaline. Your thoughts ran at 100 km per hour. It felt that your head was about to explode.

You reached the meeting spot first than everyone else. But after so much milkshake, you needed to pee.

You found a bathroom.

It was, as expected, packed. Despite everything, the stall was pretty clean, which was surprising. You pissed. Eyes glued to the floor. It almost felt like those moments when you’re at the club, go to the bathroom and after finally having a moment of silence, you realize that you’re drunk. Except you weren’t drunk. Just batshit insane.

Your fingers were shaking a bit.

I need to smoke.

You were about to open the stall’s door when a group of familiar voices reached your ears. Much louder than everyone else.

You stopped.

“...sooo handsome,” a sigh. “But he didn’t even look at me.”

A groan. “I’m telling you, that guy’s an asshole. Don’t waste your time trying to talk to him.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re lesbian, Mayu.” Acchan insisted. 

“It ain’t why!” Your sister groaned again. “I’m telling you. Fushiguro’s an asshole and boring as hell! You don’t wanna get with a guy like him!”

Acchan giggled. “I like a little challenge. I like when a guy is nonchalant. Right, Hina?”

The quiet girl hummed.

You snorted. Fourteen year old girls talking about a little challenge. What do they even know about that?

“I’m gonna try to sit by his side again,” Acchan continued. “Do you think he prefers more demure girls? Wait–” she gasped. “Maybe you’re his type, Hina!”

“Me? I-I–” the mere possibility of flirting made Hina-chan malfunction.

“I don’t think either of you are his type.” Mayu sounded a bit venomous. Like she knew something neither of them did. Huh.

“No– wait, I know who’s Hina’s type.” Acchan ignored Mayu’s comment. She giggled. “It’s Gojo-san. Right?”

Then the two girls were squealing.

“No offense, Mayu– but he’s so– ugh!” Even Hina-chan couldn’t help but squeal.

“He looks like an idol!” Acchan sighed. “He’s so tall, too, right?! And–”

“Blue eyes!” The two girls kyaaaa’d.

“Seriously, your sister’s my hero, Mayu. I thought Maeda-san was hot, but Gojo-san?! She’s allergic to dating ugly men!”

You froze.

Oh.

Oooh.

You were suddenly very interested in whatever they had to say.

“I already said that they’re not dating, though.” 

“Not even you believe in this, Mayu.”

“They’re not! She would’ve told me if they were.” It was true. You didn’t hide this type of thing from Mayu.

“Oh, please.” Acchan snorted. “Sitting together? Being together all the time? Giggling to each other? He was even taking pictures of her.”

Wait, what? Taking pictures? You didn’t know about that!

Mayu hummed. “...I don’t know, man. My sister’s kinda insane. But I don’t think they have something yet.”

Yet.

Even your sister thought you were a couple.

And all the other people in the park, apparently, judging by how they’d gawk at Gojo and then look at you with fear. 

Carrying your bag. Buying you cute stuff. Giggling and poking you. The way he caressed your wrist in the morning, or the way he looked at you at the haunted house – how he made you feel hot inside–

And then suddenly you were no better than a teenage girl, squealing in silence inside the bathroom stall.

What is happening?!

“Maybe he’s annoying, though,” Hina-chan tried to reason. “We don’t know.”

“He is annoying. But not the bad type.” Mayu giggled. “He’s funny as hell. I like him.”

You felt about to implode.

All those things were true, but the part where this entire trip was a deceive plan was also true. Shit. You were so conflicted. Was that adrenaline’s fault yet? Was it because you hadn’t smoked in hours and were already feeling abstinence?

The girls left the bathroom. You stayed there for three more minutes, trying to cool down.

They were all there in front of the globe when you left.

Acchan was trying to talk to Fushiguro again while it looked like he wanted to kill himself. Hina-chan blushed. Mayu was babbling something with a smiley Gojo. 

You looked at his face and remembered you were angry.

“Where were you?” Mayu asked as soon as you approached.

“Bathroom.” It seemed only Hina-chan understood that implication. Her eyes widened and she blushed harder. “It’s 6PM. We should–”

“The girls want to go on one last ride!” Gojo interrupted.

You hated how he was acting like nothing happened, like you didn’t have a reason to want to kill him. 

As if summoned, the three girls gathered around you with puppy eyes.

“Pleeease, nee-chan!” Acchan begged. “It’s the Waterworld slide! It’s super empty right now!” 

“We’ll just go once!” Mayu begged.

“It’ll be fun!” Hina-chan begged.

Ugh.

You tapped your foot on the floor once. “Fine.”

They kyaaa’d and ran.

You followed.

Keeping a safe distance from Gojo as Fushiguro kept a safe distance from the two of you.

It didn’t take long to enter the Waterworld attractions. They were right; most families were already exiting the park, and as the rides were beginning to close, there weren’t that many people. The girls ran to the line. You weren’t interested in getting wet; Gojo and Fushiguro weren’t either.

You stood on the sidelines, watching as the cart went slowly up and dropped from a height of 15 meters, splashing a ton of water on whoever stood on the bridge. 

None of that felt much real.

You fought a spiritual creature around an hour ago. A dangerous creature who could hurt – maybe kill – all the innocent, clueless people in the park. Yet, there you were; acting like nothing happened. How can someone keep their sanity after all that?

I guess you really have to be crazy in the head.

Minutes later, the three girls approached again – all drenched and laughing. The sun was beginning to set; light posts were beginning to be lit up. The sky was a gorgeous gradient of orange and lilac. 

You stood in the corner and watched as they started to drag Gojo to the bridge.

It was all Mayu’s idea. She had the evil smile of a gremlin. The other girls went along (Hina blushed furiously). Mayu gripped one of his arms, Hina-chan the other, and Acchan pushed him on the back.

He smiled handsomely and tried to say noooo. But he could stop if he wanted; he could free himself from their grip. It felt like watching three kittens pushing a tiger.

Gojo allowed himself to be dragged.

They didn’t let go of their grip. A bunch of other excited people stood on the bridge, anxiously waiting for the cart to drop. Stop moving!! Acchan yelled; You ain’t running away from this one!!, Mayu yelled; What about my hair?! Gojo yelled. 

The cart dropped. A giant wave splashed against the bridge; everyone screamed.

After the CT scan, you should probably do an electrocardiogram; because the way your heart was beating so rapidly couldn’t be normal.

He turned Infinity down to let himself get splashed.

Which… shouldn’t be surprising. If the girls dragged him to that bridge and he came out dry, it would simply make no sense. Yet… there was something in the way Gojo joined their silliness, allowing himself to be wet. He wasn’t too proud to just brush them off. He could have if he wanted.

The girls were laughing and he was, too.

His shirt was drenched, totally glued to his sculpted body. Gojo took his glasses off, laughing, and pushed his hair up with his hand, revealing his forehead; he brushed the strands aggressively, sprinkling water everywhere. His dimples peaked. He blinked several times, dissipating drops from his long lashes.

You could’ve gawked at his – God – insane body; the way the wet shirt framed his chest and abs. But there was something in the way he was smiling, laughing, that tugged at your heart with violence. Such a genuine smile. Innocent, silly.

God.

God.

That was one second before Mayu’s gremlin grin was directed at you.

The girls crossed the bridge running in your direction.

“No–” you stepped back. “Don’t you dare–”

“You can’t be the only one dry! That’s not fair!” 

The girls started to drag you.

Unfortunately, you were not a tiger like Gojo.

You tried to fight back. Your legs hurt too much to put up that much of a fight. The only “help” he offered was swiftly taking your backpack so it wouldn’t get drenched.

The cart went down. You were splashed.

You underestimated how much water that thing would splash; the pressure even made you slide back a bit. Cold. The water whipped your body. You tried to protect your face with your arms, but that didn’t stop water from getting into your nose.

“I fucking hate you—“ you said, slapping Mayu’s arm — but the giggle fit was impossible to hold back. She was laughing too,  and Acchan and Hina-chan and Gojo — Gosh — he was laughing at you, standing on the other side of the bridge while holding your backpack.

Crap.

You couldn’t be angry at him for too long.

You didn’t know if it was pretty privilege. You didn’t know if it was because you genuinely liked him. Maybe not even a romantic type of like. You just… liked him. 

It’s hard to hold a grudge against someone you care for.

You hadn’t even noticed that Fushiguro smartly vanished before the girls could try to drag him to the bridge, too… he was already waiting at the globe, sending you all weirded out glances.

And then, finally, you were all heading to the exit.

It was packed. Lines were huge. Even your socks were wet. Each step went squench squench. Ew. You let go of the cap and tied your hair in a failure attempt of a bun.

Gojo walked by your side quietly.

He had pushed his glasses up his forehead; you didn’t know exactly why. It was working as a headband, pushing his hair up and exposing his forehead.

It was rare to see him like that, without anything covering his face. His lashes were so long. His eyes were so goddamn blue. His entire face – it was so harmonious, so pleasing to look at. 

Ugh.

“That wasn’t my first exorcism.”

He looked down at you with a slightly surprised expression. So blue!! So blue!!

“Huh?”

You refused to look at him, because half of you was still angry.

“At the hospital.” You lowered your voice. There were too many people crumpled trying to exit the park. It felt like being inside Shinjuku Station during rush hours. “The morning that happened. There was a little curse there and I killed it by accident.”

Gojo chuckled, quirking one eyebrow. Shiiit. It was hard to look at him like that, to see his every expression so clearly.

“What do you mean ‘by accident?’”

You shrugged. “I didn’t know if it was my imagination or some wild animal. It was trying to bite my ankles. I tried to shoo it away, but stepped on it and it imploded.”

He laughed again, louder his time; shook his head slowly in disbelief. 

“Maybe it was a wild animal, you know. Maybe you committed an environmental crime.”

“Shut up.” But you couldn’t help but chuckle, too.

Gojo tilted his head to the side and leaned down a little; he was trying to make you look at him. 

“So… you ain’t mad at me anymore?”

“I am mad at you.” The angry glare you sent him was enough of a response. Do you want eye contact? Here’s your eye contact. “You planned all this behind my back like I’m a fucking idiot.”

He pouted and lifted his eyebrows, sending his best puppy eyes. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

“Then don’t treat me like one.” It was getting a little too crumpled. You were forced to step closer to him.

Silence.

“But I get it.”

Gojo looked at you again, lifting one questioning eyebrow.

You spared him a grumpy look before locking eyes on Mayu’s back a few steps ahead. 

“Why you did it. I get it. This time.”

He was about to smile. He was about to say something.

Then some fucking idiot pushed you.

You tripped. Your body was smashed against Gojo’s. His hand rested on your shoulder, immediately steadying your position.

Your head whipped in the guy’s direction. 

“Mind where you’re going, asshole!” You growled. 

“Are you stupid? Don’t push people like that,” Gojo growled at the same time as you.

If the guy wanted to fight before, all of his will deflated the moment he looked at the both of you (okay. Maybe Gojo did all the work in scaring him. No one wants to pick a fight with a guy that big). His shoulders shrunk and he stuttered a weak I’m so sorry.

You kept walking.

Gojo’s hand was still around you. Keeping you close to him. 

Your neck started to feel warm again.

He hummed. “You makin’ me feel bad about it now.”

“That’s the point. You should suffer.” You elbowed his waist jokingly. He flinched. It made you wonder… he said touching you made him feel weird. Was he feeling weird at that moment, with his arm around you, hand on your shoulder? What did he mean by ‘weird’? 

Was he feeling his skin getting hot with that contact, too?

Was he feeling his blood boil like yours was?

Did he want to step away?

You didn’t want to step away.

“Aw, come on. Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.” He was pouting again. His bottom lip was so plump. So naturally pink.

You looked up at him. He’d never been so close.

But you wanted to look into his eyes. It was so rare to see them.

“I did.” You confessed, because it was true. Not just because you went on some rides you wanted to despite the infinite lines; not just because your sister had fun with her friends; not even just because you enjoyed Gojo’s and Fushiguro’s company. But the whole thing at the haunted house. You were scared at first, but then managed to function. You pushed through despite everything. You did something – and you succeeded. Maybe that curse was super weak, maybe it wasn’t impressive or anything. But after a month of being thrown into this world – a month of not knowing what the heck was going on, of not knowing how to deal with your technique – you were useful. You weren’t defenseless.

That was satisfying.

And… maybe the fact that Gojo also looked satisfied with your performance made everything a bit better.

He held the eye contact.

Slowly, everything around you started to feel a bit distant. A bit blurred. As if you weren’t in the crumpled exit of a thematic park with people pushing each other, teenagers yelling and kids crying. 

There was you, and there was him.

There was blue, and there was green.

His touch was getting hotter.

“Did you have fun?” You asked quietly. There was no need to be loud, not when he was this close.

Gojo smirked. His dimple peeked. His teeth were so perfectly aligned. His jawline, so sharp.

“Of course I did.” He scrunched his nose for a moment. “You know it.”

You shrugged innocently. “How would I know?”

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head to the side, sliding his gaze away from you for a second. Just for a second, though. When he looked at you again, his eyes were a bit half lidded. So blue. So blue.

“I could show you.”

Goosebumps crossed your skin.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what he meant.

You knew what that gaze told you. You saw when it traveled down your neck, your collarbones, the tank top that was glued to your body the same way his shirt was glued to his; your wet skin. The strands of hair that were also glued to the sides of your face, even though you did your best to tie your hair. 

You knew what that meant.

The voice of reason in your head was wrong.

The attraction – it was mutual.

This realization made your stomach drop. Your legs feel weaker than they already were.

And in all honesty, if you were a bit more insane, you would’ve ignored the crowd around you. You would’ve tip toed, you would’ve rested your hand on his nape and crashed his lips against yours.

But you were not that insane…

…and you thought he didn’t deserve it. 

Not yet.

You weren’t joking when you said that he should suffer.

It was your turn to tilt your head and fake a thoughtful expression. “I have an idea of how you could show me.”

“Yeah?” Oh fuck. He was so into it.

“Yeah.”

You giggled. He smirked.

Certainly, Gojo didn’t expect that what you meant by that was having dinner at Aunt Junko’s house.

So it was ridiculously funny that, four hours later, you were all sitting around the table in her house after dropping Acchan and Hina-chan back to their respective homes – and Gojo had deflated like a child’s balloon.

You wanted to laugh at his face.

Suffer! You should suffer!!

Aunt Junko greeted you all with hugs and smiles and ooooh my baby girls I missed you so muuuuch and kisses on the cheek. Aunt Junko liked to hug. She hugged Fushiguro, too (and he completely malfunctioned) and went ooooh what a handsome lad!!. Then, she hugged Gojo (and he hugged her back with a handsome smile) and went ooooh you’re so tall!! (she sent you a shocked, knowing look, which you completely ignored). Then, when you dragged Ijichi inside (because he didn’t expect to be invited to begin with), she hugged him too (and he malfunctioned even worse than Fushiguro).

It was already late, but Aunt Junko was a night person, and you knew she wouldn’t mind at all. You wouldn’t lose the opportunity of finally meeting her after so long.

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t have anything better to prepare,” Aunt Junko immediately apologized. “I just have a little soba left…”

“It’s fine. We could order pizza,” Mayu proposed.

“Of course not!” You already knew she’d say that. Aunt liked to cook for everybody. “Huh… I could make takoyaki. Do you guys like takoyaki?”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “I loooove takoyaki!”

“It sounds great, Inoue-san,” Ijichi said whilst bowing his head continuously. “If it won’t cause you too much trouble.”

“You can call me Junko, sweetheart. I don’t mind it.” Aunt smiled sweetly. “Huh… I guess I don’t have enough eggs.”

Gojo smacked the back of Fushiguro’s head, making him frown. “Go buy the eggs, Megumi! There’s a konbeni down the street. And bring us soda, too.”

Fushiguro groaned. Still, he obeyed.

From then on, it was a bit of a mess.

Gojo was loud. You should’ve expected he’d get along with aunt (she was a sweetheart and he was surprisingly easy-going when he wanted to). He was even being a bit softer with her… not even using bad language. That was Aunt Junko’s secret technique: making anyone immediately like her. 

There were some unwashed dishes in the sink, and Ijichi immediately ran to take care of it before anyone asked. Mayu was loud, too, as she always was. She rushed to help aunt. Fushiguro came back after a bit with the ingredients. They had a little bit of an argument. Gojo smacked the back of his head again and you elbowed Mayu. They pouted, but brushed it aside.

The kitchen was too small for so many people.

The smell of takoyaki quickly filled the whole place. Aunt made a lot of batter, enough to fill two big bowls, because she always said that “food is never too much”. Well. Gojo had a black hole in his stomach, and Mayu was obsessed with aunt’s takoyaki, so it really was the best choice. Ijichi kept thanking aunt at each little ball he chomped, talking about how the texture was perfect and the seasoning was out of this world. Fushiguro ate in silence. He looked very satisfied.

You ate some, but then the savoury balls reminded you of the eggs from the haunted house and you felt like puking, so you stopped eating.

You sat on the kitchen counter and took aunt’s medicine box.

You read Dr. Ito’s prescriptions and exam results. One by one, you taped the blister packs and medicine boxes, writing the hours and dosages in bold letters, big enough so she could read them.

After aunt was done eating, she sat on the stool by your side.

“The Losartan dosage didn’t change.” You explained to her, putting the pack on her side. “One pill every twelve hours. Then… this one is Amlodipine. You’ll take one pill every night before going to bed.” Once more, you pushed the pack to her side.

“Right.”

“And this one… Hydrochlorothiazide, this one is new. You’ll take one pill by the morning. It’ll make you pee a lot, so never take it at night.”

“Right.”

“Are you still measuring your blood pressure every day?”

“Yes. Every day after lunch. I take notes.” She poked the little notebook inside the medicine book. You took the notebook and read the last pages… her blood pressure was pretty stable last month.

“This is good.” You put the notebook back inside the box. “If you feel anything weird, you tell me right away, ‘kay? And if that Dr. Ito is ever rude to you, let me know, too. I’ll make him lose his license.”

“Stooop that, girl.” Aunt giggled and hugged you sideways, patting your back. “Ugh. What would I do without you, Mocchan?”

You chuckled and hugged her back. 

Your legs hurt, your clothes were damp, you had to work tomorrow. But this was nice. At the end of the day, this was nice.

And you pretended to not see Gojo looking at you from over the counter. The way he was sitting on the table beside Ijichi, munching takoyaki, smiling softly. You didn’t know what that smile meant. You didn’t want to think that he looked endeared the same way he looked weeks ago at Jujutsu High.

You’d think about it later. 

You’d think about how you were so close to kissing him. About how he’d accept it. How he wanted it. You’d think about what all of that meant, about how it’d affect your whole dynamic if you really let that happen.

You’d think about it.

But not now.

Your day started with a nightmare. 

It ended with a day that was, indeed, more unforgettable than the last time you’d been at USJ with Ren.

(Would you ever admit that out loud, though?)

(Hell no.)

SO MUCH HAPPENED OH MY GOOOD - I'm gonna be wattpad-y and say this is the outfit MC was wearing. I wanted something that would look cute today and in 2017! - Also, I was thinking of this specific Gojo fanart the entire time. The way his shirt fits is so UGHHHHHHH - About the playlist!! I mainly chose happy songs bc that's the overall vibe of the fic, but 'start a war' is about THEM. like this is THEM. PERIOD. the only song where i'm like, the lyrics actually matter lol also, 'Wake Me Up' is there bc i think gojo would fuck w this song HEAVILY - I'M FINALLY PUTTING THAT SEXUAL TENSION TAG TO USE YOOOOOOOO - i'm a firm believer that strength arouses gojo. he 100% was ROCK HARD fighting sukuna like im sorry you can't say i'm wrong. - Gojo is the guy that made maki (a grade 4 at the time) and yuta (100% unexperienced at the time) fight a fucking KAIJU his first mission. like??? him doing that to her feels pretty accurate to me. he DOES NOT go easy on who he thinks have potential. - action scenes are always tricky to write!! i hope everything was easy to understand!! also, i hope it wasn't TOO disgusting. i wanna be creative with the curses we'll face (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ - i love making fushiguro interact with anyone. he's my BABY okay. also, i hope acchan and hina-chan will be back! them and mayu are 100% inspired by momo, miko and muko from dandadan ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ - ANYWAYS!! I already talked too much! Feedback, as usual, is MUCH appreciated and always makes my day! - Next chapter -- Gojo finally accepted that you have enough crazy in you, but how will he train you? I DON'T KNOW!! See you <3

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 6

⤕ It’s crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society’s most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, “oh no we have to live in the same house” trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 11k

⤕ Masterlist⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

You woke up with something tickling your nose.

You jumped, startled, then panicked for two seconds because you couldn’t see a goddamn thing – then remembered you were wearing the darkest sunglasses on the planet and took them off.

Gojo grinned like the evilest gremlin. 

He held a piece of paper between his fingers – what he’d been using to tickle your nostril.

“We’re home, Sleeping Beauty.”

You wanted to punch him. Technically you could punch him. But your brain still felt like slime and your body was heavy as if you were trying to swim against a river’s current, so you just rolled your eyes and groaned like a kid.

You got out of the car, being greeted by a chilly breeze. The storm did a good job in dropping the temperature a few degrees. Night had engulfed the city. As streets were still wet, the reflection of the yellowish lamp posts on the concrete was a bit eerie. It was quiet.

You were confused.

“...What time is it?”

“11 PM.” It was Fushiguro who answered while dropping out of the car himself. He didn’t bother lifting his eyes from his phone, however.

You stood still on the sidewalk for a few seconds.

You went to Jujutsu High. Right. Ieiri-san took care of you. You showered there. Took a nap. Then you got in the car again. Took another nap.

Okay. Right.

Fushiguro had already disappeared inside the house. Gojo stood a few steps ahead of you near the entrance, watching you quietly. He wasn’t smiling. 

That sent a slight electric shock through your spine. Maybe because after your short sleep, you were coming back to your senses. The fact that he was still wearing the blindfold made you even more nervous — what could he possibly be thinking of? You blinked several times and looked back at the black sedan that still hadn’t left. You didn’t recognize the driver.

“Ijichi-san?” You asked, not remembering seeing him after entering Jujutsu High.

“Went home for once.” 

“Oh.” Well. He definitely deserved some rest.

He won’t get inside until I get inside, some intelligent part of your brain remarked, so get inside.

Right.

You finally walked toward the gates. When you passed by him, you handed the sunglasses back while muttering a quiet thank you.

You took longer than necessary to take off your shoes and put the slippers on. Wait… those weren’t your shoes. Whose clothes were you wearing to begin with?

Mayu was sitting on the couch. She didn’t bother getting up, but turned around to look at you with wide eyes as soon as you stepped on the living room.

“The hell kinda traffic was that?” She asked with her mouth full of popcorn.

You didn’t reply. Walked on a beeline to the couch and poppled down beside her, leaving a deep tired sigh.

Mayu was sitting with crossed legs, had a huge bowl of popcorn over her lap and an opened Coca-Cola can on the coffee table. The TV was showing some commercials. It was rare to see Mayu out of her room… much like Megumi, she preferred to be locked up. If she decided to watch something in the living room, there should be a reason…

You heard hurried steps behind you. A second later, Gojo threw himself on the couch as well by Mayu’s side. 

“What are we watching?” He asked excitedly while taking a handful of popcorn.

You side eyed him. Gojo had exchanged the blindfold for the sunglasses. The jacket was now unzipped, revealing a simple white t-shirt underneath.

He was relaxed. His tone was casual. 

Way too casual.

Not just him. Fushiguro, too. You heard the sound of the fridge opening back there. None of them seemed too affected by what happened.

It felt as if nothing even happened at all.

“Blood Moon,” Mayu replied whilst drinking Coke. “It’s the season finale.”

You instinctively groaned and threw your head back. The stupid vampire series. She had been talking about the season finale the whole week… so that’s why she decided to watch it on a big screen.

Gojo hummed. “Never heard of this one.”

“You’re not losing much,” you muttered in a tired, grumpy voice. Mayu elbowed your side.

“Then don’t watch it!”

Gojo clapped his hands once as if ready to announce something. He sat upright on the couch and fiddled with the bags he had been carrying around.

“So! Even though the two of you were really mean to me, I decided to buy you souvenirs anyway! Because I’m so nice and forgiving! Please clap!” It looked like there was fog covering your vision. Gojo was so excited… and casual… and bragging about something you weren’t paying attention to. “The specialty of Niigata — sasa dango!”

He gave Mayu a prettily decorated box full of the delicacies. It did look great. She went ooooh and immediately took a picture of it, much to Gojo’s satisfaction.

“And to my alcoholic friend…” He extended a beige box over Mayu towards you. “Niigata’s sake, the best of the best!”

The somewhat still sane part of your brain took the box and analyzed it. There wasn’t a big bottle inside, but the minimalist design of it made you shiver. That looked expensive. 

A part of you knew you should show some more excitement, but your body wouldn’t obey.

“Thank you.” You finally said while still looking at the details of the fancy packaging.

“Megumiiii, come grab yours!” Gojo waved a different box of dango excitedly.

You heard steps behind you. Fushiguro emerged from the kitchen. Without even lifting his gaze from his phone, he mumbled something unintelligible and made his way upstairs.

Both you and Gojo watched him go silently.

You should thank him appropriately. You should check if he was really okay. Well. He seemed more okay than you. Everyone was too okay. Was it normal for them to be involved in shootings like that? Maybe that’s why things didn’t feel too real; Fushiguro’s and Gojo’s reactions to everything seemed too lowkey.

“If he doesn’t want it, you can give it to me.” Mayu shrugged. Gojo thought for two seconds, shrugged, and handed her the second box.

You sunk deeper on the couch. Mayu ate popcorn. Gojo ate popcorn.

“Did you have dinner?” You asked her in a low, tired voice.

“Yep.”

“Popcorn isn’t dinner.”

“In some cases it is.”

“You need to eat real food.” Which made you realize you hadn’t really cooked anything since you moved in. You’d been living off takeout. Dad would scold you so bad if he knew… “Last thing I need in my life right now is seeing you get anemic.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You didn’t have it in you to argue with her.

Mayu ate popcorn. Gojo ate popcorn.

The screen displayed a red moon and the mysterious orchestral track of the series. Mayu gasped and sat upright, eyes widened.

“It’s on!”

Your half lidded eyes locked on the TV for lack of a better thing to do. An action sequence deep inside the woods. The protagonist – a petite actress with luscious brown hair, wearing a long purple dress – ran around the trees, face full of despair, though there was not a sign of sweat on her face. You frowned.

“Wait. The episode starts like that?”

“It’s not the beginning of the episode! You guys came in the middle of it!” Mayu explained hurriedly without taking her eyes off the screen.

The scene showed other characters running, too. Sloppy transitions. A lot of shaky camera. Cliche sound effects. 

“Is she being chased?” Gojo asked while munching more popcorn.

“No. She’s running after her brother.”

“Why is she wearing this dress?”

“It’s prom night.”

“Hm.” Gojo took more popcorn. His hand was so big that every handful he took was almost half the bowl. “The concept of ‘prom’ is cool. I wish we would’ve had these things around here, too.”

You dropped your eyes for the first time and grabbed your phone from the back pocket. Shit… the screen was too cracked. Having to buy a new phone was among the things you needed the least right now. Does my card even have enough credit right now? My statement closes next week… crap. I’ll have to wait with a broken phone until then.

Mayu shrieked beside you. You looked at the TV again. There was a fight happening.

Gojo pouted and tightened his eyes. “...The VFX is horrible.”

“I told you it was bad.” You muttered.

“And the direction is so bad, too.”

“It looks like it was made in a Youtuber’s basement.”

“Do you know why the camera’s so shaky? It’s because they don’t have good stuntmen and the fight choreography is ass, so the camera shakes around to mask that.”

“Okay! It doesn’t look great!” Mayu interrupted you two in an exasperated tone. “But this isn’t an action series! That’s not even the main theme!”

The two actors on scene stopped to face each other for a moment.

‘If you do this, Theo, you’ll lose her forever,’ the blonde one – the second male lead and second love interest – said.

‘This is beyond me. It’s beyond you. It’s beyond Sabrina,’ the brunette one – the male lead, main love interest and hottest one – said.

Gojo chuckled. Mayu side eyed him furiously. “Okay, okay. I’m not gonna say anything.”

They attacked each other, but the scene transitioned back to the protagonist. ‘Michael!’, she called. ‘Michael, where are you?! Answer me!’

“Yes, dumbass. Scream louder so they can find your brother first.” You muttered.

“Shhh!!” Mayu hissed.

“Why is she after her brother?” Gojo asked.

“Shhhhh!!!” Mayu hissed more aggressively.

‘Sabrina!’

The protagonist’s brother appeared conveniently when they reached a clearing. She ran and hugged him. ‘I have it all figured out,’ Sabrina said. ‘We’ll get you out of here.’

‘Sabrina, you’re ruining your life for me.’

‘You’re my brother. I’ll go to the ends of the Earth for you.’

They hugged again.

‘Michael. It’s over for you.’

A super zoom focused on Sabrina’s shocked face. She turned around to see Theo – the hottest – standing near the clearing, holding a fancy silver pistol.

He aimed at Michael. Sabrina stood in front of her brother with her arms opened.

‘No!!’

Mayu was actually holding her breath.

The scene cut to the secondary cast in a different location doing different things.

“Why does he want to kill her brother?” Gojo asked. Why he was so interested in the series was a mystery.

“You shouldn’t have asked…” you shivered, bracing yourself for Mayu’s lecturing.

Mayu turned her body in his direction slightly.

“So – her brother is a transformed vampire, right? They can’t control their lust for human blood unless they’re wearing a blood ring. But Antonia hid his blood ring during a full moon, so Michael couldn’t control his thirst and ended up killing humans.”

“Who’s Antonia?” It was a bit amazing how he could even understand Mayu’s fast speech.

“The nastiest bitch in the series! She hates Sabrina ‘cause Theo loves her! So Antonia did that to hurt Sabrina. Theo is the vampire prince, he’s a pure blood, and according to the blood court, any vampire that kills a human must be executed…”

“...And he has to kill his girlfriend’s brother now.”

“Exactly!”

“Hmmm.” Gojo nodded slowly with his mouth full of popcorn. “Now I get the drama.”

The secondary plot was over. The scene came back to Sabrina. Mayu sat on the edge of the couch, eyes widened, as if she was about to get shot.

‘Theo, please… you have to believe in me. Michael is innocent!’ Sabrina cried. Tears ran down her cheeks. She was squeezing her face so much to get some emotion out, she could very well be a lemon.

‘I saw it with my own eyes, Sabrina. Michael murdered innocents.’

Gojo chuckled that quiet disdainful chuckle again. “School theater levels of acting.”

Gojo ate popcorn. You ate popcorn.

“Mind you– these characters are supposed to be teenagers.” 

He giggled. “That guy looks like he’s been through divorce twice.”

“Right? No teenager is this hot.”

Gojo huffed cockily. “Talk for yourself. I was always this hot.”

“Can you two shut up?!” Mayu looked on the verge of a panic attack.

Gojo ate popcorn. You ate popcorn.

They still argued. And cried. And squeezed their faces to show some emotion.

“He’s not gonna do it.” You said quietly. “The writers aren’t this brave. He’s gonna let her brother go because he loves her too much… or whatever.”

Gojo thought for two seconds. “I think he’s gonna end up shooting her by mistake. Then the next season will be him finding a way to resurrect her.”

“I don’t think the writers are smart enough to add this, either.”

Mayu slapped your thigh angrily. 

You looked at the screen.

Theo closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he looked determined.

Mayu held her breath.

I was almost kidnapped, you thought. I was in the middle of a shooting, of a massive car wreck, a man sliced a car in half behind me, Ijichi and Fushiguro could’ve died… and now I’m watching the season finale of a trashy teenage vampire series near my sister who’s oblivious to everything as if nothing happened.

Okay. Alright.

‘I am the Blade of the Blood Crown…” He lifted the silver pistol once more. ‘...and I will fulfill my duty.”

Sabrina yelled.

Slow motion.

The sound of a shot. 

You instinctively flinched. A shiver ran down your spine. Your heart beat faster – and that was the most emotion you felt since the incident. 

Gojo side eyed you.

Mayu got up in a jump.

“No!”

Michael gagged. A red stain grew slowly on the left side of his chest. He fell in slow mo. Sabrina ran to her brother in slow mo. She cradled his body in slow mo. The camera panned away from them while she cried in slow mo. A grave, melancholy tune played along with a last outstretched scream.

Black screen.

Ending credits.

“It ends like that?!” Mayu pointed to the TV in complete shock. “The season ends like that?!”

“Turns out the writers were brave enough to do it.” Gojo remarked.

“I can’t– I can’t believe this shit! Michael just fucking dies?!” Mayu immediately grabbed her phone. You saw a glimpse of the screen: #BloodMoonSeasonFinale was trending on Twitter. MICHAEL, THEO and WHAT THE FUCK were all trending, too.

Mayu stomped out of the living room while typing furiously.

You didn’t move. Gojo didn’t move. There was a bowl of popcorn between you now.

Gojo ate more popcorn.

“Well. It’s camp.” He shrugged. 

“Yeah.”

Silence.

More commercials. You stared at the TV blankly. A shooting, you thought again. A car crash. That man almost got me.

You took a little bit of popcorn. A particularly hard corn kernel hurt your teeth. You made a grimace.

A shooting. A car crash.

Fushiguro stayed behind to protect me. The fourteen year old. That talk from earlier today makes me feel pathetic now. 

Gojo ate more popcorn. 

You side eyed him again. He was so okay. Too okay. Why was everyone so okay? Why wasn’t anyone as shocked as you were? Is this really how life went for jujutsu sorcerers? 

He suddenly went huuuuuuuh with a very interested expression. You focused on the TV again. 

‘The answer mankind yet has to answer is, are we really alone in the Universe? Some people are sure that we are not. Today, we’ll dive deep into one of the most mysterious and highly documented cases of UFO activity ever registered. Our investigation takes place in a small, peaceful city in Minas Gerais, Brazil, that became the stage of the biggest enigma in UFO history overnight…’

“Do you believe in aliens?” He asked out of the blue.

You frowned. A shooting. A car crash. He’s asking me about aliens now.

You ate more popcorn.

“I don’t know.” It’s not that you didn’t have an opinion about that, but your brain couldn’t take this kind of conversation at the moment.

“Well, I believe there are aliens.” Funny how he kept talking as if you had asked. “When you look at the size of the Universe, there’s no way there’s nothing else out there.”

“Hmm.”

Popcorn.

Your hands reached for the bowl at the same time.

Your fingers brushed his.

It happened again.

The way he almost flinched. The way his fingers twitched a bit. He played it off cool now, though.

Gojo ate more popcorn. You ate more popcorn.

Oh.

Oooooh.

Now it makes sense.

So… Gojo was untouchable, as far as you could understand. However, your technique could “nullify” his… which meant you could touch him whenever you wanted. 

He’s not used to that. 

You munched quietly. Your eyes were lazily locked on the TV while the documentary progressed, but your mind was elsewhere. Is this untouchable thing of his involuntary? Does he not have any control over it? Is it always “on”? What if it hurts whenever I touch him?

“So…”

Gojo spoke up for the first time in a while. You turned your head to look at him.

He had one of his arms lazily over the sofa back, legs crossed. His arm almost reached you, in fact, but you were still at a considerable distance. He caressed his own hair with the other hand.

You didn’t like his tone.

You didn’t like that face he was making, either.

“Yes?”

“That’s probably not the best time to tell you this, but uh…” Gojo pouted and tilted his head to the side. “About what I said last week. Someone to look into your head. Remember?”

Oh shit. You did not remember. “…Yeah.”

“I booked her for tomorrow. Your day off.” He tapped the couch uncomfortably. “But, you know, we could uh… we could choose another day. She’s gonna be pissed, but nothing that some extra won’t solve—“

“No.” You interrupted him. “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

Gojo went silent for some seconds. He tilted his head to the side, watching you intently. Again, the fact that you couldn’t really see his eyes behind the dark shades made you nervous.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” His tone was a bit more serious. Lower. You’d like to think that’s how he showed worry.

You took the sake box once more and got up. “I’ll be.”

Being in his presence suddenly became overwhelming. The stupid alien documentary was irritating. You needed air. More specifically — you needed to smoke. So you quickly grabbed a spare pack you had hidden in the kitchen and walked to the back of the garden.

The night was fresh, almost cold. Even though there were a few lamps outside it was still a bit difficult to see. But it was alright. You didn’t really want to see anything.

You sat down near the trees. The grass was still wet. You didn’t mind.

It was so silent. Again, as the walls were high and the trees were tall, it felt that the house was inside a bubble, a parallel world – one that was peaceful and eerie at the same time. 

I should text Ijichi, you thought. I should ask if he’s okay. I should thank him appropriately.

Right.

You took the phone from the back pocket again – but something else caught your attention, something that startled the hell out of you first.

A pair of yellowish eyes in the dark.

But then you blinked a few times and understood what it was. 

“It’s you.” You whispered. 

Fushiguro’s white wolfdog from before… he was sitting there a few meters away in between the trees. You remembered how the dog escorted you… how it launched itself against the attacker, giving you a few seconds to dial Gojo’s number…

“Thank you.” You didn’t know if that thing had a consciousness at all, but it felt appropriate to thank it.

The dog watched you for a few more seconds.

Then it started to approach.

And your heart was shattered in a million pieces.

It was limping.

Its left paw– it couldn’t touch the floor. The dog made its way slowly. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. The dog got hurt protecting me. 

You suddenly remembered Fushiguro’s request from before– “Wait!”

It definitely was intelligent, because it stopped on its tracks before it could get too close.

“I’m sorry, I– I can’t touch you,” you gulped. “It’s dangerous.”

The white dog kept watching you with attention. He wanted pets. The dog wanted pets, and it got hurt because of you, and you couldn’t pet the damn dog because your technique was Extinguishment, and it wasn’t even a real dog – it was a thing made of something Fushiguro didn’t bother explaining, so if you touched it it could simply die.

You looked down, feeling the lump in your throat get worse. You took the lighter. You took the pack. The pack was empty. Not even a fucking cigarette inside– but you were sure there was at least a last cigarette inside, why the fuck did you keep an empty pack in the drawer? And you gulped, and you looked down at the phone, and you opened Ijichi’s contact to text him but half the fucking keyboard wouldn’t work because the screen was shattered and you didn’t have enough credit to buy a new one right away, and there wasn’t a cigarette in the pack, and you slammed the screen with your thumbs angrily trying to write a simple sentence but it didn’t work, and the dog was beside you and the dog got hurt because of you and you wanted to pet the fucking dog–

You hid your face on your knees and sobbed.

You hated crying. You hated it. But it was too much, too fucking much. Fushiguro was acting like nothing happened, Gojo was acting like nothing happened and you had to act like nothing happened for Mayu’s sake. There was no one you could open up to; Fushiguro was a kid and you weren’t that intimate with Gojo… not to mention he’d already been doing too much for you.

This is what everyday life is to them. They’d think I’m being childish for crying. Maybe I am childish.

You sniffed, tried your best to muffle the sobs, hoped no one would hear you or bother you. You stayed there until the tears went away and your legs started to hurt. The white dog didn’t move, either. As silly as it was, you felt that he was offering some emotional support.

When there were no more tears, you took a deep breath and ran to your bedroom to not have to face anyone.

Tomorrow wouldn’t be easy.

But you told Gojo you’d be fine – so you would be fine.

The red tape in Jujutsu High was ridiculous.

They hadn’t asked for your ID before. They did now. Then the receptionist filled a register with your full address, professional occupation, if you had a car license–

“I was literally here yesterday. Is this all necessary?”

“I don’t make the rules, ma’am.” She shrugged. The woman really did not give a damn. “Now– I’ll have to take a picture of you…”

After twenty minutes, she finally gave you an “AUTHORIZED VISITOR” badge that you had to clip on your shirt.

Gojo was unfazed as usual. He got up from the couch and guided you out of the reception hall.

You pointed at the badge angrily. “What the hell was all that for?”

He chuckled. “You’re not a sorcerer, sweetheart. You don’t get a free pass whenever you want.”

“But I’ve been here before!”

“On emergencial circumstances.” He shrugged. “Yaga’s pretty strict about this… and I can’t always ignore the rules, unfortunately.”

The weather was really nice. Yesterday’s storm brought humidity to the air, so it wasn’t super dry anymore, even though it was still hot – thus why you decided to wear a simple tank top with the jeans. Gojo on the other hand was wearing the damn jacket and blindfold as usual. How he dealt with the heat was a mystery, especially because wherever he was talking you was a ten minute walk away from the reception hall. The campus was ridiculously huge… and, as always, empty.

“So… who’s the person that’ll look into my head or whatever that means?” you asked. 

“Hah, you’ll love her! Her name’s Aoyagi Tomiko. She worked as an interrogator for ages before retiring.”

Your stomach twirled. “I’m gonna be interrogated?”

“Not in the ways that you think.” Gojo tilted his head to the side. “And I kinda already warned that the process wouldn’t be nice.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not complaining.”

“Good! ‘Cause there’s no turning back now.”

Finally, a different building appeared ahead… a simpler one. It didn’t share the impressive traditional architecture from the rest of the school: it looked like a block of concrete almost at the borders of the campus. Also looked abandoned.

An old lady waited outside.

She was tiny. Stood with the help of a cane. She held a pipe lazily at the corner of her lips and wore round glasses. For a second, you felt a shiver – your grandmother had traumatized you from old ladies – but there was a stark difference between Nobuko and her, starting from the attire. Nobuko always wore a plain kimono, while this lady wore brown caqui pants, a colorful patterned haori and a necklace of red beads. Hoop earrings adorned her face. She also had many rings on her fingers and a pretty lilac themed hairpin held her bun. She had a serious – pissed – expression that immediately told you she was no sweet lady.

She looks cool as fuck was your immediate thought.

Aoyagi emitted a sound similar to a groan.

“Aren’t you embarrassed to make an old lady wait?” Oh she was pissed. Her voice was deep and hoarse. 

Gojo held his hands up as if surrendering. “Not my fault this time! Blame Yaga’s stupid bureaucracy!” 

“You already know they’re bureaucratic. You should’ve arrived earlier. I was stuck in the airport for hours but still came on time, know what? ‘Cause I have manners.” She beat the cane on the floor twice to emphasize her displeasure. “This new generation of yours got no manners.”

“Geez! Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed!”

“‘Course I did. I fucking hate this city and this school.”

“But you do love money.”

“Hmpf. Obviously. Who doesn’t? Now let’s get this over with. My plane back to Okinawa takes off at five.”

The woman finally laid eyes on you with a lot of scrutiny. She quirked one eyebrow. “So you’re the Hosokawa girl.”

“Call me Mori, please.” You bowed respectfully. “Nice to meet you.”

She eyed Gojo with a smug expression. “Now that’s how you greet an elder.” Gojo shrugged with disdain. “Aoyagi Tomiko. Let’s go.”

Aoyagi opened the steel door behind her. It made so much noise that it became clear how rusty it was, making you think the place was abandoned once more. The old lady turned on the lights – and to your surprise, the door led to stairs that went down. That place was a bunker?

Aoyagi was leading the way and, as expected of a 75 year old, going downstairs was a difficult task. You and Gojo followed her slow pace.

“When I heard there was someone new with Extinguishment around, I thought, shit. That hag’s gonna raise hell in the Council because of it.” Aoyagi didn’t even need to specify who was the hag – obviously, your grandmother. “But I see you refuse to go by their name like your mother. Good.”

“Did you know my mother?”

“Of course I knew her.” Aoyagi’s tone became more serious. Sad, even. “Kimiko was a good sorcerer. Such a pity that she retired so early. It’s always sad to see a woman walk away from jujutsu.”

You frowned. “But you just said you like that I don’t go by the Hosokawa name.”

“Disowning your family is one thing. Retiring from jujutsu is something entirely different. We never have enough active sorcerers, let alone women sorcerers. I’ll always regret seeing a woman go.” She looked at you over her shoulder for a moment. “You, for example.”

You quirked one eyebrow. “I was never a sorcerer.”

“Exactly.” Aoyagi huffed. “A technique like yours is rare. Useful. Shouldn’t be in the hands of someone that won’t do anything with it.” Finally, she reached the last step and turned the lights on. “You should’ve been educated here from a young age, not letting all this talent go to waste.”

You tightened your eyes. “That’s not really any of your business, though.”

Aoyagi smirked. “Fair.” She tilted her head to the sides. “Well, you’d probably already be dead. None of the people I grew up with are alive. I just got this old ‘cause my technique isn’t used in combat.”

You let yourself analyze the room… but there wasn’t really anything to see. The place did resemble a bunker as the walls and floor were pure concrete; there were no walls (duh) which made you feel a bit claustrophobic. There was an old couch in the corner, a steel table with two chairs in the middle and a simple rack with a TV. A tube TV… and an old Panasonic VCR. You were a kid the last time you’d seen one of those.

“Sit down.” Aoyagi pointed to one of the chairs. You obeyed, feeling progressively more nervous.

Gojo sat on the table and crossed his arms. It was weird to have both the blindfolded guy and the old lady looking down on you. 

“So, Mori-chan, I’ll have to knock you out.”

You didn’t know what took you off the most – the Mori-chan (he usually called you a sarcastic sweetheart or just Mori, never chan) or the following part.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t explain anything to her?” Aoyagi side eyed him with disgust.

“I’ll do it right now!” He focused on you again. “Remember when I said the property of your cursed energy is a nullifier?”

“...Yes.”

“That means techniques like Aoyagi’s won’t work on you properly unless you’re unconscious. So I’ll have to put you to sleep for a while. Capisce?”

“You’re gonna punch me in the face or something?”

“No!” Gojo giggled. “Of course not. I’d never hurt a pretty face like that. Relax.”

You deliberately decided to ignore that last sentence for your sanity’s sake.

Aoyagi let go of her cane and crossed her arms. Her expression was serious and focused.

“I’m going to look into your memories. It won’t be comfortable. It will hurt. But even so, don’t resist my technique. It’s a mind’s natural mechanism to resist me, even asleep. Yet, the more you resist me, the worse it’ll be, so don’t resist my technique. Did I make myself clear?”

Shit shit shit. I’m getting scared. But Gojo was right – it’s too late to turn back now, and he gave me a chance to say no yesterday.

You nodded. “I understand.”

“Good. Now tell me. What is the exact date of your mother’s death?”

You instinctively tightened your hands. You gulped. Your heartbeat increased.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

“...July 17th, 2007.”

Aoyagi nodded and stepped back for a moment.

Before you could say anything, Gojo’s hand got closer to your head.

“See you in a while.” 

His pointer finger touched your forehead–

Darkness.

From the many techniques Satoru had witnessed in his lifetime, Aoyagi’s was one of the most fascinating ones. He’d seen her in action just a few times before her retirement. This was a golden opportunity to sit down and watch.

So as soon as Mori blacked out, he did just that. Sat on the couch and watched.

Aoyagi made a few handsigns. Her face was set to stone, hardened by concentration. He saw the flow of cursed energy within her condense, take a new direction, change colors – from blue lines to purple lines – as she proceeded with the incantation. Mori’s cursed energy lines, on the other hand, were inert. They weren’t bubbling within her, fighting back any other energy as they usually would. As always, Satoru’s assumption was right. The hag wouldn’t be able to access Mori if she was awake. 

Aoyagi’s curse energy levels peaked. Satoru tightened his eyes a bit, anxious to see the most interesting part of her technique.

The old lady put her right palm over Mori’s chest. The area around it started to glow in purple eerily. Slowly, she retracted her hand – and following the movement, something materialized there, as if she was pulling it out of Mori’s chest.

A simple black VHS tape.

Aoyagi took the tape in her hand and sighed heavily. 

Satoru whistled. “Grandma still got it.”

“Shut the hell up, boy.” She groaned in response, making him giggle. He was impressed, however. Aoyagi’s technique demanded a delicate mastery of curse energy control, and the fact that she could still perform it at such an advanced age without passing out was admirable. 

She analyzed the tape in her hand. Satoru had seen what it looked like when someone resisted her power (most would resist, as they were being interrogated against their will): the tape would come out burnt, damaged. Mori’s was in perfect condition.

The old lady turned the TV and the VCR on. The buzz sounds they made and the clack of buttons was a bit nostalgic.

“Seriously though– a VHS? These things have been outdated for, like, twenty years.” Satoru said as he sat more comfortably, resting his arm over the back of the couch. “You ever heard of a DVD, granny? A Blu-Ray?”

“I’ve been in the business since before you were in your daddy’s ballsack, brat. This is how I like to work and this is how I’ll keep working.” She put the tape inside the VCR and stepped back. “Now be quiet.”

The TV went from static to a blue screen.

Right in the center of it, something simple was written.

17 JUL 2007

► PLAY    ⏮ REWIND 

Aoyagi pressed play on the remote.

Static.

The tape started to roll.

Satoru decided to actually be silent for once.

The video was grainy and a bit glitchy at times. Funnily enough, it did look like a memory. It took him a moment to understand that the video was in the first person POV. Obviously. A memory can’t be seen from outside the body, only through the person’s eyes.

At the left bottom corner, just above the date, the hour appeared: 07:12 A.M. The moment Mori opened her eyes on her bed.

Aoyagi leaned on the steel table. She pressed ⏭. The video advanced at a fast speed with super high pitched sounds and glitchy effects. The hour at the bottom advanced as well.

“We don’t need to watch her get changed or use the bathroom.” The hag had the audacity to send him a disgusted side eye. Satoru felt actually offended.

“I’m not a pervert, granny.”

“All men are perverts.”

She pressed ► again, and the video went back to its original speed. Mori was at the kitchen table taking a piece of bread. Satoru giggled to himself. “Looks like the most uninteresting 1st person game ever.”

Something ran beside her. She took a while to look down, but then she did and Satoru quieted down. A toddler. Shouldn’t be more than four. 

Mayu.

She wore pink overalls and had her hair tied in pigtails, which was funny, because she didn’t have a lot of hair. Her cheeks were dirty with chocolate. Mori told her something in a language he didn’t understand. 

Aoyagi pressed ⏭ again. 

Video sped up. Glitchy screen. High pitched sounds.

“At what time did her mother die?” Aoyagi asked. 

“The accident happened at around 4PM, but she wasn’t too sure.” Satoru could have asked more, but he didn’t want to push her. Especially if there was the danger of her simply giving up in participating in the interrogation.

The old lady pressed ► when the clock on the screen showed exactly 4PM. 

She was in a completely different environment, and it was only comprehensible when she looked up: a department store. Mori’s voice was very clear now. She talked and laughed with people wearing blue polo shirts – a uniform – once again, in a foreign language.

“Turn the subtitles on, granny!” He joked.

“Shhh.”

Aoyagi advanced the video again, but just for a few seconds. Mori was inside the bathroom now with a flip phone between her shoulder and her ear while looking at the mirror.

A tiny smile unconsciously made its way to his lips.

This teenage version of her was funny to look at. She was in that strange middle point in life between looking like a kid and an adult. Her hair was tied in a ponytail; she wore the same blue polo as the others. It was July, during school break; she had a temporary job. There was a mark on the right side of her forehead that clearly indicated she tried to pop a pimple. Her hands were busy searching for something in her bag.

But the main difference between the Mori from now and the teenage girl on the screen was her eyes. They carried that naivety from youth, that special glow that is impossible to retrieve later in life. A glow he saw on himself in the rare times he revisited pictures from his own youth.

To know Satoru would witness the events that took that glow away from her in the following minutes made a strange feeling settle in his stomach.

“Can you come pick me up?” Now that she finally said something he could comprehend, Satoru noticed how her voice also sounded different. More high pitched. A girl. “Yeah, but dad said he’s busy at the hospital. He can’t come.” She pouted. “Mom, it’s raining. Pleeeeease!” After a few seconds, she smiled. “Thank you! I get off at–”

Aoyagi advanced the video before she could finish.

The scene changed. Mori was running in a parking lot. Heavy rain fell over her. She reached a silver car and hopped inside.

“What did I tell you about bringing an umbrella?”

Mori looked at her mother.

Kimiko was an attractive woman. Her hair was short; she wore a simple beige sweatshirt and glasses. She had soft smile wrinkles on the corners of her eyes.

The feeling in his stomach got worse.

Mori looked at the backseats. The baby chair was empty. “Mayu?”

“Left her with her aunt for a while. She was crying too much.”

Mori started babbling something about the plastic bags she had over her lap. Makeup packages. It was in that foreign language again. Though Satoru couldn’t understand a word, he noticed how it sounded much more fluid and natural coming from Mori’s tongue; Kimiko replied with a strong accent. 

The whole scene was so casual. Heartwarming, even.

The strange feeling in Satoru’s stomach got worse.

“We should speak more Japanese around Mayu-chan.” Kimiko said all of sudden. “She’s already starting to forget words. What if she gets an accent?”

“Ew!” Mori giggled. “Aunt Junko would kill us!”

Kimiko shook her head. “Can’t let her forget her roots.”

The car was silent for two seconds.

“You know what wouldn’t let her forget her roots?” There was something acid about Mori’s tone. Something Satoru was quickly getting used to. “Actually going back to Japan.”

Satoru went really, really quiet.

Her mother sighed a deep tired mother’s sigh.

“Mori…”

“You know I’m right.”

“We already had this conversation a thousand times.”

“And I still don’t get why we can’t go back!” Both of them became exasperated pretty quickly. “I’m not talking about moving back forever, but– a week? A week wouldn’t kill! It’s been six years since I last saw Aunt Junko.”

Her mother’s expression now was serious, set to stone, and equally irritated. “You know how things are with your grandmother.”

“For frick’s sake, millions of people live in Kyoto. It’s not like we’ll bump into her at all.”

Kimiko sighed again. “It’s not that easy.”

And unfortunately, Satoru knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He knew the Hosokawa house would know about their arrival immediately. Kimiko understood that.

But why couldn’t she make her daughter understand?

For some seconds, the only audible thing was the incessant pitter patter of rain against the car. 

Oh shit.

Yesterday was raining too, right? And the curse users crashed against the car Mori was in. 

So that’s why she was so shocked. PTSD?

He felt a bit bad. Just a bit.

But something flashed on the screen and Satoru straightened his back. “Hey! Time jumped, didn’t it?”

The clock went from 4:47 PM to 4:49 PM really fast. Two minutes in seconds? Aoyagi hadn’t pressed advance.

“Shhh!” The old lady said anyway, ignoring him.

Mori was babbling something about the makeup on her lap again. She and her mother giggled–

STATIC.

The screen glitched. For seconds that felt eternal, the buzz of static filled the interrogation room.

Satoru was about to ask what happened.

Blue screen.

A new date at the center.

19 JUL 2007

The scene rolled.

Mori sitting, looking down to her lap. She wore a black dress. Her right arm was in a cast.

Sounds were distant. Confusing.

She looked up slowly.

It was a large room. Chairs. Men in black suits, women in black dresses. Low voices. Someone was weeping. 

The sound of her breathing became louder.

Mori looked to her right. There was a woman crouched down to her level. She had a worried expression; her voice was calming. She caressed Mori’s arm. The woman had been crying. Another woman approached, sat by her side, caressed her back, tried to offer a cup of water.

“What…?” She muttered. “What happened?”

Her breathing got louder. She looked around more frenetically. The women tried to calm her.

“Mom?”

Mori’s eyes finally focused on the casket ahead.

Blue screen.

17 JUL 2007

► PLAY    ⏮ REWIND

Neither Satoru or Aoyagi moved for long seconds.

The old woman was the first one to recover. She approached the VCR once more.

“Did you see that? How the minutes jumped?” He got up again. Satoru didn’t have it in him to crack any jokes at the moment. 

“Yeah.” She took the tape out and placed it over the table. He approached to see what the woman was about to do. 

With much care, Aoyagi slowly pulled the film out of the cassette. She brought it closer to her eyes and hummed.

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“When someone has amnesia… suffered memory loss for whatever reason, the film looks patched and damaged. That’s a reflection of how the brain was affected. But look at this.” Aoyagi picked a specific part of the film and brought it closer to Satoru’s eyes; even so, he had to lean down to look closely. “Here. And here.” She showed two more points. “This looks cleanly cut and attached together. This isn’t natural.”

Aoyagi put the tape on the table again and crossed her arms.

“This girl’s memory was erased.”

Shit.

It’s not like the thought didn’t cross Satoru’s mind, but the confirmation of it just raised more questions than answers. 

Who erased her mind? Why did they do it? Did it have any connection to the reason why her powers awakened out of sudden? How was it tied to her mother’s death? Did it have anything to do with the people after her?

What if there was a single person behind all this?

Satoru had an assumption that the answers to all these questions were inside Mori’s brain. Whatever happened between the accident and the funeral… that blank space in her mind had all the answers they needed.

And his assumptions were never wrong.

He crossed his arms. “Can you retrieve these memories, granny?”

The lady tapped her finger on the table. “Hm… it’ll be difficult. Those memories are ten years old. The older a lost memory is, the harder it is to retrieve it… not to mention they were erased with intent, so it might be impossible to get them back.”

He tsked and smirked. “But you’ve been a sorcerer since before I was in my dad’s ballsack, right? I’m sure you’ve dealt with worse.”

“Yes.” Aoyagi looked up at him. “But it’ll cost you. A lot. I won’t get involved in sorcery like that for free.”

“Just fill the check, sweetheart. Money ain’t a problem here.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” The smile she opened was a bit scary. Is she related to Mei Mei?

“I…”

Both Satoru and Aoyagi looked back.

Mori was awake.

She hadn’t moved from the chair. Her eyes were glued to the table blankly. She looked… disoriented. In shock. Worse than yesterday.

“Do you still need me for anything?” Her voice was painfully quiet in a way he hadn’t heard before.

Incredibly, Aoyagi’s gaze softened a bit – which seemed to be something impossible to witness.

“No. I already took what I needed.”

“Okay. So I’ll…” she gulped. “I need to smoke.”

Mori got up from the chair. Didn’t look at anyone. Went upstairs in silence.

For the second time that day, Satoru felt a tiny bit bad.

He ignored it, of course.

You should’ve said no.

Yesterday. He gave you a chance to say no. He said he could book Aoyagi for another day. You tried to be tough. You thought whatever was going to happen couldn’t be that bad.

You were wrong.

Your mind hurt. Not your head, your mind — in a way so bizarre that you couldn’t really describe it. You felt when Aoyagi pushed herself into you. You felt her hand (not a physical one— a metaphorical one; you couldn’t even explain with words how that felt) touching your mind, looking into your memories, and you wanted to push her away. You wanted to resist, because whatever she was doing was unnatural. It felt as if you were naked in front of a judging crowd .That woman could see things about you that you barely revisited. That you were ashamed of. 

Even so, the drop of sanity held you back. Don’t resist.

You didn’t fight back.

And then came the worst part.

Having an intruder in your mind was agonizing. 

Hearing your mother’s voice so clearly after ten years was so, so much worse.

You weren’t expecting it’d be like that. You didn’t know that retrieving the memories meant it’d feel like you were going through that again. In one second you were inside a basement with Gojo and Aoyagi; the next second you were sixteen again, leaving your part-time job, excited that you bought a new eyeshadow palette for only ten bucks, embarrassed because the pimple on your forehead was so big, hungry because your lunch was just two onigiri that mom had prepared—

You had to crouch down because you couldn’t breathe.

You even remembered mom’s number. 

Your legs had no strength. Even so, you walked away from the basement; you couldn’t stand the idea of facing anyone in this state. You kind of remembered the route from the first time you’d been on campus. Minutes of frantic walking led you to the same old shrine relatively far away from everything else. 

The railing. The hill. The forest ahead. The sun.

You froze there.

It would be appropriate to cry. Part of you was holding back tears. But your state was so bad that the tears simply did not come. Rendered you empty.

Maybe because you’d already cried so much for mom.

You cried and cried and cried. You screamed for her. You felt as if your heart had been ripped off your chest, as if the most important part of you had died.

But whenever you cried, Mayu cried, too.

Because Mayu was four when mom died.

You lost your mother. She lost her mommy. 

And she kept asking where mommy was. She waited sitting by the front door, thinking mommy would come anytime. She cried at night and crawled up your bed because she missed mommy.

You understood right then and right there that you wouldn’t have time to mourn, because someone so much more fragile than you was suffering.

You understood right then and right there, too, that you had lost your mother; dad had lost his soulmate. He couldn’t properly function for months. He stopped taking care of himself, of his career, of his house, and consequently of you, too. He was numb, and lonely, and nothing no one ever did could ease his pain.

Someone had to get up and do something. So you got up and did something.

Mom wasn’t there for your graduation in high school. She wasn’t there for you to confess that you had lost your virginity. She wasn’t there to celebrate when you got accepted in med school, to comfort you when you went through your first serious breakup, to take pictures of Mayu in her uniform when she started elementary school. She wasn’t there to witness dad receive an honorary award for his career. She wasn’t there when Mayu got her first period. She wasn’t there to help you take care of dad when he got sick. 

You missed her through all of these events. But if you broke, you wouldn’t function. The family wouldn’t function. Mayu was so young; she needed security and stability more than anyone else. For a while, dad helped, too, and you made a great team – but then, suddenly, he became the one that needed help the most. You had to be standing. It had to be you, you, you.

Mom wasn't there to support you anymore.

She hadn’t been around for ten years. 

Of course you still missed her. It’s not possible to get over a death; you just get used to it. You were used to it. You could talk about her now without feeling a lump in your throat. You, in fact, talked about mom with Mayu a lot to keep her alive in Mayu’s mind. Now, when you thought of her, memories of good things came instead of the pain of missing her. 

You were used to it.

But that interrogation – to relive the last moments you had with her; the sound of her voice, the smell of her vanilla hand lotion, the way her car was always a mess, how she drummed her fingers on the wheel or how her voice was a bit hoarse because she’d been a bit sick the last few days; the fact that you argued with her right before she died–

Reliving all that felt like someone pierced a dagger in an old wound. A messier wound this time. Made it bleed and bleed and bleed in a way it hadn’t bled in years.

God.

Your fingers were shaking. You dropped the first cigarette; it fell over the railing down the hill. You took another one. Couldn’t really use the lighter because your thumb was still shaking. You don’t know how long it took to finally light up a single goddamn cigarette.

You stayed there.

Thank God this school is always empty.

One, two, three — you smoked one after the other. The effect nicotine had in your brain was ridiculous. You could imagine the dopamine, serotonin and norepinephrine being released in your system, making your heartbeat decrease to a normal rate and your limbs stop shaking. Dad would kill me if he knew how much I smoke. He’d be so disappointed. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. Anything to make you work with some level of sanity. Anything.

I need to work. Mayu depends on me.

I can’t break.

You kept repeating these words like a mantra until they started to make sense. A tourniquet to stanch the mass bleeding. Mayu was the tourniquet. She had always been. 

That is why, when Gojo finally approached in silence after God knows how long, you were feeling like yourself again.

You had your forearms leaning on the railing, the last cigarette of the pack between your index and middle finger. He stood by your left side, copying your position. There was still a very conscious space between you two.

Silence.

“Before you hit me with the oh my God, Gojo, you’re so cruel and insensitive, how did you let that happen to me?...” Holy fuck, you hated how his stupid high pitched impression of your voice made you giggle. You hid your face in your palm like the damn fool you were. “...I warned ya.”

He broke the ice. Simple like that.

You sighed and rubbed your eye with your free hand. “I’m not mad at you.” 

Gojo sighed in relief dramatically and had the audacity to grin. “Really? That’s great! Not nice to have bad blood while living under the same roof, y’know?”

It doesn’t even feel like we live under the same roof, a less important part of your brain noted. You’re never home.

But there wasn’t time to talk about something so trivial.

You need to work. You can’t break.

You took one more drag of the cigarette before starting.

“Whenever I come here, I meet someone that knew my mother.” Your voice was quiet. The breeze almost carried it away. It made Gojo quiet down, too. “Feels like everybody knew she was a sorcerer except for me.”

Another beat of silence. Surprisingly, Gojo didn’t have anything witty to say.

You gulped before continuing.

“Why didn’t she tell me anything?” You didn’t like how your voice sounded. Fragile. You didn’t want to look hopeless in front of him – and you didn’t feel comfortable enough to vent, either. But what other person could you talk to? Who could even begin to comprehend the situation you were in?

Gojo’s expression was serious. Once more, you caught yourself wishing he wasn’t wearing the blindfold. So much of human emotion is in the eyes. Whenever he wore the blindfold, it felt hard to approach him. The breeze played with his hair softly. 

“I bet she was trying to protect you.” It was rare to see him talking like that. Despite the seriousness, his voice was still somehow soft. “...A sorcerer’s life ain’t easy. Especially for women. And, well, you already know how your grandmother is. Maybe she didn’t want you to suffer.”

You weren’t expecting him to say something rational.

You looked down. Tapped your feet on the floor nervously.

“Was that even a good choice, though?” That sentence was spoken so quietly because it was more a thought that you voiced than something you wanted to discuss.

To your surprise, Gojo had something to say.

“Probably not. But that felt more like a mother caring for her kid. And that’s uncommon in the jujutsu world.”

There was… something in the way he said that.

Something you wouldn’t bring up.

It felt a bit personal. It felt a bit bitter.

Gojo looked down for a moment. 

“Well… this is coming ten years late.” His voice softened in a way you hadn’t heard before. He almost sounded sad. Almost. “But I’m sorry that your mother died. I mean it.”

You nodded and avoided his gaze.

More smoke. More breeze. More silence. Don’t break.

You gulped and blinked several times.

“So…” Your firm tone was clear: that topic of the conversation was over. “Can Aoyagi-san undo my amnesia or whatever?”

Gojo pouted. “She’ll work on it. It’s not guaranteed that she can, though. But I trust her. Granny’s still the best at what she does.”

More smoke. More breeze.

“How did she already know about me?”

“You’re her client. Duh.”

“That’s not what I mean. She said that she heard there was someone new with Extinguishment.”

Gojo pouted and hummed. “Let’s say… imagine a small city in the countryside where everybody knows each other, so when the mayor’s daughter gets pregnant at fifteen, everyone immediately knows?” He pointed a finger gun at you. “Jujutsu society is like the little city. And you’re the mayor’s daughter.”

His metaphor was so dumb but so accurate at the same time.

“So you’re all gossipers like that?”

He shrugged. “It’s a small community! And a boring one! Whenever someone new appears, everyone gets curious! And I already told you that, but your technique is super rare! Sorcerers go nuts over rare techniques.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Apparently, there was a whole community of people talking about you. If they were as friendly as your own relatives… Jesus.

You threw the cigarette butt on the floor and pressed your foot on it.

“So… if I’m the mayor’s daughter in this little city… who are you?”

The perfect opportunity to take the focus of the conversation off you. You needed it.

Gojo huffed cockily and crossed his arms.

“I’m the sheriff, of course.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were gonna say you were the mayor.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t wanna be the mayor. Though the majority of the city would want to vote for me in an election, of course, because I’m so cool and so hot.”

You drummed your fingertips on the steel railing. “But isn’t the mayor the most important person in town?”

“Is he?” Gojo rested his chin on his knuckles. 

“Well. He’s the one that makes the rules.”

“Nah. He follows the rules. He wants to be kept in power, so he pleases the bank owners without giving a damn about the civilians." A tiny smirk appeared on his lips. “The sheriff, though? He does what has to be done, even if it makes him unlikeable, for the town’s sake. And if he’s not there, bandits that live in the canyon nearby attack the city.” He shrugged. “And he walks around strapped and wears a cool hat.”

You chuckled. “When did this become a wild west movie?”

“It’s way cooler to think this way.”

You crossed your arms and tightened your eyes.

“The sheriff doesn’t really need a gun, though. Since he’s untouchable.”

That was where you wanted to get all along. 

Gojo pouted like a kid again. “Huh, I wasn’t imagining myself with Infinity in this scenario. I was just a really good gunman. Like The Man With No Name.”

“This thing of yours is called Infinity?” You gestured towards him rapidly.

“Yeah.”

“How does it work?”

Gojo tilted his head. “Why’d you wanna know? Are you planning to defeat me?”

“Well. I wouldn’t need to know to defeat you, ‘cause my technique nullifies yours.”

He slammed his fist on the railing and pouted like a kid. “Damn! I was outsmarted!”

You giggled and looked to the ground. “So?”

“Hm… you ever heard of the paradox of Achilles and the Tortoise?”

It was your turn to pout in a thoughtful expression. “...I’m trying to remember.”

“Welp. I thought a super smart doctor would know.”

“This is school level algebra. I don’t have eternal memory.” You spotted something on the floor and crouched down.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh! Wait, I remember. Achilles never reaches the tortoise, right? ‘Cause the tortoise has an infinite advantage… or something like that.” 

You got up with a handful of pebbles in hand.

Gojo watched you intently.

He rested his cheek on his palm. A lazy smile appeared on his lips.

He almost looked endeared.

You stepped back four times to create some distance. Chose a pebble and launched it at him.

The pebble stopped centimeters away from his face.

“Ooooh.” You approached two steps to see better. The tiny rock really was just hovering in the air as if something held it back. “So you’re the tortoise? Things don’t reach you because space around you keeps doubling itself infinitely?”

“Turns out you are smart.” 

“Super smart doctor, remember?” You stepped back and launched a pebble again. It stopped near his chest. “Can it block anything?”

“Pretty much.”

Another pebble. “Is it always on?”

“Yep.”

“Even when you sleep?” Another pebble.

“Uh-hum.”

“Wait.” You frowned. “This Infinity thing envelops your body, right?” He nodded. “So do you… like… hover over the mattress? Or any surface you touch?”

Gojo’s little smile widened to the point his dimple appeared. Ugh. “Infinity determines what is a threat or what isn’t. Whatever might cause me harm will be blocked.”

Another pebble. You missed this time; the thing flew past his ear by a long distance. “Sounds like a pain in the ass to do that all the time.”

“It used to be a pain in the ass, but now it’s automatic.” He poked his own head. “Because I’m that great.”

Another pebble. “Can it block bacteria?”

“Yes.”

You were impressed.

“Can it block viruses?”

“Yup.”

You were more impressed.

“So you just don’t get sick?”

“Haven’t had the flu in years.”

One more pebble. Launched more aggressively than the others. “That’s not fair.”

Gojo shrugged. “Not my fault that I was born this great.”

You remembered what Fushiguro said. There’s so many things he’s the only capable of doing in the whole world.

If he’s not there, bandits that live in the canyon nearby attack the city.

The safest place in the world is anywhere he’s at.

Slowly, day by day, you started to understand what they meant more and more.

It should be obvious; you’d seen Gojo warp space at will and fly, completely disregard physics. But you’d seen a guy slash a car in the middle, too. Fushiguro could summon magic animals. There were ways to make someone spontaneously combust with curtains and heal with their bare hands. So, given all that you’d witnessed, it was difficult to understand what made Gojo so special among these aberrations.

Turns out – if he couldn’t even be touched by things as small as microorganisms, what type of attack would be effective against him?

You still didn’t understand a lot about jujutsu overall… but that meant he was essentially invincible.

“Will you stop throwing rocks at me now? Good aim, by the way.”

“Can it block UV light?”

Gojo pursed his lips. “I thought the interrogation was over.”

“I’m just thinking– you’d save a lot of money on sunscreen if it does, right?”

The pebbles that were hovering around him suddenly fell, as if what held them back ceased to exist. He chuckled. Hell, he did look endeared, and you didn’t know exactly why. Gojo liked being the center of attention… did he like that you were so interested in his technique?

“It blocks anything, sweetheart. Anything. Except…”

Gojo pointed his finger at you.

You dropped the last pebble on the floor and cleaned your hands on your pants before approaching.

Your index finger touched his. 

Like the E.T movie.

You didn’t feel anything special; it was just a fingertip against yours. A normal touch. Yet, after everything you’d discovered, this had a new meaning. 

Gojo had a weirdly serene lip tightened smile. Once again – you so wished he wasn’t wearing the blindfold. If you could look into his eyes, maybe you could interpret what that smile meant. 

“It’s funny, ‘cause…” He pressed his lips for a moment. You judged he was paying attention to both of your fingers. His voice got quieter. “I’m trying to fight your cursed energy back, but I just can’t.”

You remembered all the times he flinched away from your touch.

“...Does it hurt?” Your voice got quieter, too, matching his.

Gojo scrunched his nose. “Not really. But it feels weird.”

You looked at your fingers, too. Viruses couldn’t bypass his shield. You could.

“And I’m not even trying anything.” You shrugged and smirked. “Not my fault that I was born this great.”

It was his turn to chuckle at your poor impression of his voice.

You chuckled, too.

You felt your neck getting hot. 

The simple contact of your finger on his. The quieted down voices. How the breeze played with your hairs. How you stood somewhat close.

This felt intimate.

You stepped back and retracted your hand – and the moment went as quickly as it came. 

You looked ahead to the hill and tapped your fists on the railing in a rhythm.

“Well. I really am not trying to do anything. I… I should tell the guys after me that I don’t know how to use the technique, right? I’d be useless to them anyway.”

And yes, you remembered very well how Gojo said there were ways to steal or copy a technique, but you were trying desperately to shift the mood.

Gojo sighed. He turned around for the first time and leaned his back on the railing while crossing his arms. 

“Hm…” He held his chin. “Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to be nice?”

You frowned. “Huh?”

“I’d rather know before continuing.” You still stared at him with confusion. “I’m trying to be considerate!”

“Be honest.”

“I agree with granny.” Gojo got just a little bit serious. “I think you should have received proper training. Your technique is way too valuable to not just be used. At least, you wouldn’t be in such a defenseless position.”

Shit. You knew he was right. 

Yesterday during the attack – all you could do was run away, letting yourself be guided by Ijichi because you wouldn’t be able to run on your own. You had to be scouted at all times… couldn’t go anywhere unattended… all because you couldn’t protect yourself at all. 

You sighed heavily.

“Yeah… maybe it would’ve made my life easier… if I was a student here.” You looked around for a moment before focusing on him again. “Did you study here?”

“Yep.”

You thought of how huge the campus was, all the impressive buildings, how the place felt so separate from reality. 

“I think I would’ve liked to study here.”

Gojo smiled again.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean– this place is awesome. Never seen anything like this in my life.”

He giggled. “You would’ve been my kouhai, y’know?”

You shivered. “I take it back– thank God I didn’t study here.”

Gojo gripped his jacket over his chest, faking pain. “What?! What do you mean by that?! I was a great senpai, you know! Ask Ijichi!”

“It’s because I know Ijichi-san that I can tell you were a horrible senpai.”

“So he’s been plotting against me behind my back? Traitor.”

“He’s not plotting anything, I just have a working pair of eyes.”

He pouted like a kid again. You giggled again. It was funny. Minutes ago, you were feeling the most agonizing emotional pain a person could feel; now, you were giggling and bantering with the blindfolded guy. Same as yesterday. TV watching after a shooting.

Your life didn’t make any goddamn sense anymore.

But this was nice. This was comfortable.

You could live with that.

A beat of silence.

The railing. The hill. The forest ahead. The sun. Him.

When he spoke again, Gojo’s voice was softer. Quieter.

“Yeah… it would’ve been real nice. If we’d been here together after all.”

You looked at him because, once again, you couldn’t really understand what he meant underneath. Why he sounded nostalgic of all things. What was under the blindfold, the real look in his eyes.

But then the world twirled.

You gripped the railing before you could fall.

You swiped the back of your hand on your nose. It came bloody.

Blood. Blood. Your nose was bleeding again.

“Mori?” Gojo’s voice was close, but suddenly sounded distant– 

Because, out of nowhere, you felt as if your skull was being slammed violently from all sides.

Gojo reaching for you was the last thing you saw before blacking out.

A/N: NOW THE FIC'S COVER FINALLY MAKES SENSE!!!

GOD!! Everything that happens in this chapter is one of the things I thought of before I even started to write this fic. I'm so happy that I finally typed everything out!!

I promised more plot and here it is!! We're slowly making our way in our investigation 🧐

Also-- this is CHAPTER SIX and we FINALLY got somewhat of a little chemistry there?? A little thing?? A little blushing and flustering??? HELLO?????

I'm gonna be like Gojo right now and remind y'all that I warned ya that we'd dig HEAVILY into grief with this fic. Literally one of the main themes because I just like writing about it. So like. Beware!

It's also been really fun to write MC's internal conflict. I am a younger sister myself, so it's been a nice study to imagine how an older sister in her situation would behave. Fellow older siblings, do tell me if things feel accurate up until now ☝️

AS USUAL!! Feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reading comments always make my day!!

Next chapter -- we'll finally see MC and Gojo hanging out in an environment that doesn't involve jujutsu?? Maybe?? I hope so??

See you <3

[zorostitties]

Intertwined; 7

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child’s heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, underage smoking, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 11k

A/N: YOU DIDN'T EXPECT ME TO UPDATE SO QUICK DID YOU 🫵🫵 This one is coming surprising early bc i won't be home later today and i'm anxious to post it lol Enjoy!! <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3  ⤕ Playlist

➛ 17

When the first rays of sunshine brightened up the sky again, Luffy finally went to sleep.

You knew he wouldn’t sleep for long — he was never the type to waste time resting — but he had taken the night’s watch anyway, and that took a toll on him. Luffy yawned and told you ‘good night’ before disappearing inside the men’s room.

As if you’d be able to sleep.

Zoro was the first to wake up to switch places with Luffy. He scowled at the cold wind, sent you a surprised look that he tried to hide (had he forgotten about your presence?) and resigned himself to greeting you with a dry nod. The swordsman was clearly not interested in talking. His eyes were full of distrust; Zoro kept stealing glances whenever you moved, watching to see if you’d do anything suspicious. Honestly? From the whole crew, he was the most rational one. Your existence meant danger in ways you couldn’t quite hide. His gut wasn’t exactly incorrect. Perhaps Zoro had Observation Haki, even though he was still unaware of it? You were the same before grandfather started to teach you.

The second to wake up was Sanji. He smoked the first cigarette of the day, sent you a smile and a good morning (a very tired one; he still didn’t have the energy to spin around and shoot hearts in all directions, apparently) and disappeared inside the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You heard him growl “who the hell ate all the damn apples?!” two minutes after walking in. Sanji confronted Zoro about it, who went I didn’t eat your goddamn apples in response between gritted teeth. Sanji didn’t believe him. They argued. Their offenses were very creative. You heard things like pube brows and booger head back to back. (Something in you told you that Sanji already knew Luffy was responsible for eating all the apples, but he was looking for an excuse to start an argument. Oh well.)

The third person to wake up was Nami, who put an end to their fight real quick.

It seems no one in the crew was willing to disobey her, and you could see why. She was ferocious. There was a supernatural flame behind her eyes that shone brightly whenever she got too pissed. She also seemed to use her brain cells more effectively than 70% of the crew, which definitely granted her some respect.

That ferocity was not aimed at you, however, which was a bit surprising. Nami greeted you with a gentle smile and a bright good morning. Despite her complaints from past night, it looked like she had some good sleep: no bags under her eyes at all. She was also in a good mood while eyeing the Eternal Pose pointed towards Jaya.

“I got a feeling we’ll make it there before lunchtime,” she mumbled absently. The breeze was delicate on her copper locks. When sunlight hit her brown irises, they brightened up to be the same color of her hair.

“We got four or five more hours to go.”

Nami frowned. “How do you know?”

Oops.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“I’ve been to Jaya before.” It was better than lying.

...Five years ago, maybe. The west side of Jaya, Mock Town, was a den of criminals. A lawless land. A target of yours was hidden there… some pirate you didn’t remember the name. Wasn’t that strong or that important. Anyway, you had taken this exact same route to get there.

“Really? Why didn’t you tell us before?”

“You didn’t ask.”

Nami shrugged. “Fair.” She leaned her elbow on the ship’s balustrade, resting her face on her knuckles, and tightened her eyes at you slightly. “So… this researcher job thing makes you travel a lot, I suppose?”

“Yeah.”

“It sounds fun.” She eyed your skirt once again. “And makes a lot of money, I figure.”

“It’s not fun. But… yes. It makes enough.”

Enough was an understatement. Scarpia Family’s safes were more packed than ever as the five of Drachen’s children were fully active, not to mention the associate assassins. Ariadne still had one year to go before she could take commissions on her own. For now, she was still only accompanying the twins and you occasionally.

There was a knot in your stomach.

It was the first time you even thought of Ariadne.

It had been three months since you last saw her. Busy with commissions, busy with training, and going from one extreme of the Grand Line to the other wasn’t exactly fast, even if you took unconventional routes. It’d been quite a while since you even left the New World in the first place… and to think years ago, you’d avoid being at Scarpia Island most of the time. Now, you didn’t really have a choice.

Not that you had any choice about anything. Ever.

Sanji called for breakfast and you were glad to march into the kitchen before Nami could ask more questions.

Freshly baked bread, corn porridge and coffee (hot cocoa for Chopper because he didn’t like coffee. You had no problem with coffee, but decided to drink some of the cocoa too for a change). It was delicious. Sanji kept whining about how he wanted to make a big apple pie but his plans were ruined thanks to someone. Everyone complimented the food. When questioned, Zoro groaned that it was alright. Sanji said he could have the barnacles from the hull for lunch. They argued. The rest ignored.

You remained mostly silent, leaving the kitchen as soon as you finished eating.

They were far from being aggressive or unfriendly with you (well, except for Zoro, even if he was passive aggressive about it). But when Luffy wasn’t there… you felt awkward. Like you stood out. Like you didn’t fit.

Well, it was understandable: they’d been sailing together for months already. Crossing the seas meant being stuck with the same group of people for days, sometimes weeks, without any other human contact. That could really form a bond. It should be nice, you supposed… whenever you crossed the seas, you were surrounded by voiceless butlers that couldn’t really interact with you. There were times when you’d sneak into random ships as well, but even so you’d rather not talk too much to not give a hint about your identity.

That put another sad perspective in front of you.

Even though you knew Luffy for years, they’d already spent much more time with him than you ever did.

Maybe they knew things about Luffy you didn’t. Seen sides of him you hadn’t. You had never witnessed Luffy seriously fight for his life. The monster animals from Mt. Colubo, the criminals from Grey Terminal… they were threats, but there was always a sense of safety in that (at least for you. They didn’t represent you any danger. And even if Luffy would hate to know, you were always ready to intervene if you judged his life would be threatened). His crew, however, must have witnessed it already. Must have fought for his life the same way he must’ve fought for theirs.

It’s like the deep blue ocean touching the ship’s hull created mirages in your eyes.

...How would it be to witness Luffy fighting for real? This Luffy, who got much stronger since three years ago? What expression would he make when facing an enemy equal or stronger than him? Would he get serious? Would he still have fun?

What must he had done to conquer his crew mates’ loyalties? What type of adventures had they already experienced together?

A hole slowly sunk in your chest.

Jealousy isn’t a pleasant feeling at all. But at that moment? You felt it, and it was awful. Not only because the crew already knew Luffy better than you; you were jealous of them all because they could go on adventures without the shadow of a deadly family looming over them.

I could fake my own death like Sanji did. No. Grandfather would end up finding me in a month. The possibility of Crowley hunting Luffy for sport is there, too, even after my presumed death, because he is a demon incarnate—

A cough.

You looked to the left. No one.

You looked down.

Chopper was standing beside you. Not facing you at all, eyeing the ocean instead. He had somewhat of a serious expression.

Chopper hadn’t approached you willingly or even talked to you directly until that point; like Zoro, he was wary of your presence. That immediately spiked your curiosity.

And he was nervous.

He couldn’t hide that well.

“Hey. Here. Take it.” It was a bit funny how that small creature with its baby voice was trying to sound tough.

Chopper lifted his right hand (hand? Paw? Hoof?) in your direction; he was holding something… a small cup with some green liquid inside.

You quirked one eyebrow.

“Thank you… but I don’t really like green tea.”

“It’s a painkiller.”

You froze.

It was impossible to disguise your surprise this time.

Chopper looked up for a second to see the obvious question in your face. His eyes darted down again, as if keeping eye contact overwhelmed him.

He booped his own blue snoot.

“...I can smell pain in you humans. And other things, too. So there’s no use in trying to hide it from me.” He puffed his chest and hardened his voice, once again playing tough.

You instinctively touched your own waist.

It’s true. You’d been completely ignoring the pain with the help of Heavenly Control for quite some time… it wasn’t as bad as it was weeks ago. But it was still there.

“You’re very perceptive.” Chopper shook a bit with your compliment. “But it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“It’s pain anyway, and pain isn’t nice. My job is to care for everyone’s health on this ship.” He wiggled the cup slightly, starting to sound impatient. “Come on, take it!”

You still hesitated.

You were used to pain… you lived with it just fine. Grandfather discouraged taking painkillers, in fact, because he saw it as a sign of weakness.

It’s pain anyway, and pain isn’t nice.

A smile slowly made its way to your lips.

You took the cup from his (hand? Paw? Hoof? Ugh).

“Thanks. You’re very kind.”

That whole tough persona melted down in half a second.

Chopper squirmed, scratched his foot (foot?! Paw?! Hoof?! Aaarghhh) on the floor, blushed (a creature with a fur coat blushes? How is that even possible?!), tightened his eyes, barely disguised his grin.

“Ayyy, shut up, you asshole! That’s just my job!! Don’t feel special!!”

You giggled.

He was that easy, huh?

You put the cup to your lips. “Be careful, though! It’s very bitter—” You chugged the whole thing in one gulp. “...I guess you don’t mind.”

It did taste horrible, but you managed to swallow it without making a face. You leaned your side on the rail to look at him directly.

“So… you’re the crew’s doctor?”

Chopper itched his nose and made the cutest smug expression you’d ever seen. “Heh… I mean, yeah, I guess I am…! Someone’s gotta take care of these punks!”

That was a bit surprising. You assumed he had joined the crew simply because Luffy thought he was a funny looking guy. So not only was he a talking biped reindeer thing, he was also highly intelligent… more intelligent than most humans, in fact. Not many people are smart enough to study medicine. Ugh. I really want to sketch him.

Your gaze absently wandered to the sea down there again.

...And you remembered something.

A smirk appeared on your lips.

“Say, Dr. Chopper…” he blushed violently upon being called like that. “...would you consider making a deal with me?”

He stepped back with apprehension. “W-W-What do you mean?”

You leaned down to get closer to his eye level.

“You let me study you… and I let you take a ride on the water bike.” His eyes beamed. “What do you say—?”

“Hell yeah!! Let’s go!!” and he was already running down the deck. “I’m ready!!”

He was not ready.

“T-T-T-This is too fast, miss!! I’m gonna fall!!”

You laughed. “Relax, you’re not gonna fall!”

“B-But— AAAAAHHH!!”

Chopper was stuck between being frightened and shaking with excitement, screaming louder than the bike’s roar and the sea. The wind threw your hair back, sprinkled salt water on your face and clothes — and that was a relief, because it was too damn hot. The sun was scorching, there were barely any clouds to block its light. Your stomach dropped with adrenaline. And to think you were so used to riding this bike already, but only now it became fun.

You didn’t really trust Chopper’s ability to hold anything (his arms were too short to surround your waist) so you literally tied him on you with some rope; he sat in front of you to have a good view of wherever you were going, one hand (hand? Paw? Hoof?) holding his hat while the other weakly reached for the center of the handlebars.

“Hahah— this is— this is— too fast!!” His voice was half laughter, half scream of horror.

“That’s why it’s fun!” You weren’t even on maximum speed yet. The sea was pretty calm, it almost felt like riding on a flatland. “You can trust me. I’ve got plenty of experience with this thing!”

Chopper let another uneasy giggle. “Oh, I noticed— WOOOOH!!”

You took a sudden turn left, raising a cloud of water in the process, and laughed at his shock. However, you noticed how he got more used to the speed, the fear being slowly replaced by excitement. Chopper got a little more brave, standing on the bike to better see the view while holding the center of the handlebars for dear life.

“Wooow! Look at that!!” He exclaimed while pointing at something in the water to your right.

You followed his direction and immediately smiled as well upon seeing what he meant: a group of giant, beautiful stingrays soaring the waters right below you; they were two times bigger than the bike.

“There are so many!” Chopper hopped with excitement.

“Yeah.” You from a few years ago would immediately recognize what species of stingray that was… even though you were not as versed in marine biology. This small perception about yourself made you feel a little sad. You were losing bits of the things you enjoyed. There was one thing you still knew, however. If the stingrays were there… “We must be near a coral reef.”

Bullseye. Less than five minutes ahead, the color of the sea became clearer; from deep blue, clear turquoise. The underwater forest was just below you — colorful, bustling with life, extending as far as the eye could see. Some coral structures were so big that they peeked from the water, literal living towers. School of fish swam away as you approached, being scared by the sudden disturbance. You decided to turn the bike off near a shallow pool so they could approach.

Chopper was beaming, squeaking cute noises of amazement. He slid down your leg, holding it for support, and let his paw (hand? Hoof? AAAAARGHH) touch the water; little yellow fishes danced below him.

“I think this is the biggest reef I’ve ever seen!” He hopped slightly and went hohohoho. “The water’s so clear. I bet there’s visibility for fifty meters at least!”

You crossed your arms and opened a lip tightened smile. The calm waves breaking on the reef swayed the bike slightly. “Wanna go for a dive? These pools are pretty shallow. It’s safe here.”

Chopper huffed and looked at you in shock. “Are you crazy?! I can’t swim!”

“Oh.” Yeah, I should’ve figured it wouldn’t be easy for a winter creature to swim… I mean, he is a winter creature, right? “You never learned?”

He definitely thought you were stupid. “I’m a Devil Fruit user!”

You paused.

“Ooooh.”

Now you felt stupid for not figuring it out earlier.

“So… what type of fruit did you eat?”

Chopper hoped on top of the bike again, and when you looked down at him, it really tugged your heartstrings. He’s too cute for his own good. “Hito Hito no Mi.”

The human-human fruit. Of fucking course. Why didn’t I think of that before?!

“So, how will this ‘study’ thing go, miss?”

You chuckled. “No need to call me ‘miss’. Wolfie’s fine. I just want to make a few sketches of you. And ask a few questions.”

He blinked excitedly. “Do you draw well?”

“Kind of.” Been ages since I last held a pen. Maybe I forgot how to. You held the grips again and turned the bike on, immediately scaring the fishes away. “But it’s better to do it somewhere else. We don’t wanna lose sight of the ship.”

“Right!” Chopper turned around to face ahead again. “If this reef’s here, we must be close to the main island already!”

You maneuvered the bike around the reefs slowly, both to not disturb the sea creatures too much and to let Chopper enjoy it a bit longer. He pointed at things he found cool and went waaaa!! all the time. How old was he? Chopper was not only tiny, he kind of acted like a kid… but not an annoying kid, a cute one.

Oh.

Then you were a bit sad again, because you remembered the other kid in your life. Ariadne.

You’d never taken her on a fun trip like this. Sure, you usually broke protocol when she accompanied you, taking her to eat at nice restaurants and buy clothes on good stores, but nothing so carefree like this. Did she even know your liking for nature overall? Had you ever shared your actual interests with her?

No. You hadn’t.

And she was your sister.

Suddenly you weren’t having that much fun anymore.

It didn’t take too long to find the Going Merry again. Nami leaned on the rail to look at you two approaching; Usopp appeared out of nowhere beside her, hopping excitedly.

“There’s a big reef to port!” You screamed louder than the ocean and the bike’s roar. “At least two nautical miles from here. Waters get really shallow!”

Nami nodded and turned around. “Got it! Turn to starboard!”

You heard someone respond with ayeee and took distance from the ship as it maneuvered. Luffy was still nowhere to see. He was that tired, huh?

When the caravel stabilized its route again, you approached it. Usopp was still standing up there near the rail. He was also pretty excited about the bike yesterday…

Well… you were kind of an asshole, making him swallow that much pepper. Would be appropriate to make up for it.

“Wanna come onboard?” You asked after a beat of hesitation.

His face brightened up.

“You serious?!”

“Yeah.”

Chopper hopped excitedly again on his seat. “It’s so fun, Usopp!! Not scary at all!!” Oh, he was trying so hard to convince himself.

Usopp giggled maniacally and ran in circles before finally approaching the rail again. He didn’t jump straight to the bike (it’s what you would’ve done. Or Luffy. Or anyone else in the crew, you figured)… he reached for the stairs. Each step down was a bit uneasy. You got even closer to the ship so he could reach you, a step of distance. He just had to take a small jump.

But Usopp hesitated.

“I— Uh— can you come a bit closer?”

“No.” Of course you couldn’t. You didn’t want to get dragged by the ship’s current.

“Okay. Right. Uh. I’ll— I’ll just—”

“Come on already.”

“Right!”

Usopp closed his eyes before jumping (who the hell closes their eyes before jumping? Did he have the survival instincts of an amoeba?) and he would’ve fallen if you didn’t grab him by the thigh.

“Oof! Ho! Right! I made it! Hehe!”

“That was nice, Usopp!” Chopper threw him a thumbs up (except he didn’t have a thumb, so you supposed that was a thumbs up). You would’ve thought he was being sarcastic if he didn’t have the pure soul of an angel.

You giggled and took distance from the ship once more, keeping the low speed so Usopp could adjust himself.

“Hold on tight.”

You felt Usopp tense up behind you. “Okay!”

He gripped your shoulders.

You finally looked at him from over your shoulder. “Are you serious?”

“W-What?” Usopp was panicking again. “Where else am I supposed to hold?!”

His stupidity was a bit entertaining. You rolled your eyes and huffed while grabbing his wrists and making him hold your waist.

Usopp got more tense.

“O-Oh. Oh. Right. Okay.”

Was he shaking?

That was the guy who had a girlfriend? It didn’t feel like he’d ever breathed too close to one. Usopp kept his hands on each side of your waist, but there was still a huge space between your back and his chest. You couldn’t help but giggle while taking hold of the handlebars again. It was funny because you couldn’t feel any disgusting vibe coming from him; Usopp was just extremely awkward about it.

Huh.

You didn’t feel any goosebumps this time. Like when Luffy held you from behind.

Funny.

Chopper clapped his hands (hands??? Hooves??) and wriggled from side to side. “Let’s go!! Pedal to the metal!!”

“Alright. You asked for it.”

“Hey, what’s the max speed the bike can— WHAT THE FUUUUUCK!!”

Usopp wasn’t afraid to hold you anymore.

He hugged your waist for dear life, in fact.

Your laughter was almost as loud as the bike’s roar and Chopper’s scream.

“Okay, I get it— t-t-t-the max speed really is f-fast!! We can slow down now!!” Usopp stuttered behind you.

“This isn’t the max speed yet.”

“But I get the point!” Usopp made a strange noise that sounded like a squeak. “I just remembered that I have s-s-severe motion sickness—”

His sentence was cut off by a yell of horror when you took a sudden turn left. Chopper yelled along creating an awful symphony that could very well blow up your eardrums.

“Again! Do that again!!” Chopper chanted with a maniacal grin.

“Shut up!! Don’t encourage her!!”

You giggled. “Sit down, Chopper, or you’ll get splashed with water.”

Surprisingly, the little reindeer obeyed. Now that you knew he was a Devil Fruit user, you’d have to be more careful. That didn’t stop you from complying to his request, though, to Usopp’s utmost panic.

Chopper looked up at you with shine in his eyes. “Can we visit the reef again? It’s right ahead, isn’t it?”

“Yep!” You said whilst smiling.

“Wait— ain’t we gonna lose sight of the ship?!” Usopp shrieked. “W-W-What if we lost at sea forever?! We’ll end up dying of thirst and hunger and WE’LL GET SWALLOWED!!”

His last screamed actually ached your eardrums.

“Gosh, don’t freak out like that!” You frowned while massaging your ear. “We won’t lose sight of the ship—”

“N-n-n-no!! You d-d-didn’t get it!!” Usopp was restless behind you. His voice suddenly made him sound like a strangled chicken. “W-W-We’ll get swallowed!!”

“We’re not gonna—”

Usopp gripped both sides of your head from behind and made you look back.

Ten meters away from the bike, the water’s surface was strangely disturbed, warping up in something that looked like a dome. A giant dome. Something big swimming just below the surface, leaving a trail behind it that extended for much longer.

You saw the red eyes staring at the bike under the water.

A giant sea snake.

…Oh.

You were gonna get swallowed.

You faced ahead again and gripped the handlebars at the same moment Chopper spotted the monster and hollered.

“Chopper, hold on tight—”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE!!” He yelled.

“We’re going to—”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE!!” Usopp yelled.

You gave up trying to explain anything.

Adrenaline pumped in your veins. You angled your torso near the handlebars, getting ready for the sudden burst of speed—

None of them were ready when you actually turned the accelerator to the last gear.

The bike roarer louder than ever. Usopp roared as loud as the engine, holding your waist so tight that it started to hurt. The sea snake, attracted by the noise, immediately sped up after you.

Shit. You knew that this could happen despite the Seastone lining of the hull: differently from ships that are much bigger, slower and quieter, barely disturbing the water’s surface and therefore disguising itself with the help of the Seastone lining, the bike was noisy and small — much easier to get a sea beast’s attention. There should be a nest nearby that you hadn’t noticed.

“T-Turn around!!” Usopp shrieked. “W-W-We should head back so Zoro and the others can take care of it—”

“And attract it to the ship? No way!” You looked over your shoulder again to measure how far the sea snake was. It swam after the bike on a beeline, breaking through the waters and creating giant waves on its way. Its looked big enough to swallow you all on a single bite. “We’re going straight ahead!”

Usopp was pale.

“Why the hell are you smiling?!”

Because you had a plan.

“Come on, you fucking sea noodle!!” You screamed at the thing defiantly. “Come get me!!”

Usopp’s eyes bulged so bad that it looked like they’d pop out of his face. “N-No!! She was joking!! Don’t come get us!!”

Chopper shrieked. “You angered it!!”

“You talk to sea creatures?!” It was your turn to eye Chopper with astonishment.

Though you quickly found out that he didn’t have to speak sea noodle language to understand that it was angry. The purple snake broke the ocean’s surface for the first time, opening its giant jaws and growling so loud that it created ripples on the water. The sound must’ve traveled for kilometers.

Usopp made a strange noise behind you.

Chopper gagged.

“Usopp passed out!!”

The arms that surrounded your waist lost strength. You had time to see his eyes rolled to the back, his tongue sticking out flatly, a second before he simply wasn’t holding you anymore.

Shit!

Your right hand flew behind your back to somehow grab him before he could fall; by the speed you were traveling, the chances of him simply dying smashed on the water’s surface was higher than being swallowed by the beast. “Shitshitshitshitshit—” you babbled between gritted teeth. This was not in your plans!

Then, something else that was not in your plans happened.

In a second, Chopper was still a tiny thing looking at his friend’s unconscious form with horror.

The next second, he simply was not a tiny creature anymore.

You had a whiplash trying to understand what the fuck just happened— why there was a tall muscular hairy man sitting on your lap, completely blocking your view. He wrapped his now long arms around Usopp’s body, sandwiching you all in a tight hug, you being the filling in the middle.

You took a quick glance up. Shit, that’s still Chopper— in a humanoid form, yet still frightened.

Okay, I can get shocked later!

“Chopper— I can’t— I can’t see!!” You wiggled around in a weird angle to try to see forward under his armpit.

“Wake up, Usopp!!” His voice was slightly deeper now which was a bit unsettling. “Now’s not the time!!”

“Ugghhhhh…” Usopp moaned.

“It really is not the time!” Because you couldn’t fucking see much beyond the wall of fur sitting on your lap — you could barely breathe smashed against his body. But that wasn’t even the least of your problems.

Chopper in this form got much heavier.

The bike got slower.

The snake continued to approach at a steady speed.

For the first time, you felt apprehension.

You looked up at Chopper, but to do so, half your face was smashed against his chest. “Chwuppuh!! Ghubuhmuchfuhm!!”

He looked down. “What?!”

You managed to lean your head away from his body a little bit, ungluing your face from his chest. “Get tiny again!!”

“But I can’t let Usopp go! He’s still unconscious!!”

“Wake him up! You’re the doctor!”

You saw resolve harden Chopper’s face, which granted you hope that he’d pull some medical trick to quickly wake his friend—

Chopper slapped Usopp’s face.

“Wake up, jerk!!”

Another slap.

“Come on!! Wake up!!”

You leaned to see what was ahead under his armpit again. Your heart thundered in your ribcage; you could sense the beast getting much closer than what would be a safe distance, the deafening noise of the waves it created, the engine of the bike yelling as it took more weight than it should. But your target wasn’t far. Just a little more! Just a little more!

You wouldn’t get there if the extra weight wasn’t gone.

“CHOPPER!!” You yelled at him this time in a tone you weren’t used to, but you were running out of time to try to be considerate. The now big boy shrieked.

“Wake—” Slap. “The—” Slap. “Hell—” Slap. “Up—” Slap. “Already!!”

Usopp’s eyes shot open.

“WAAAAAAHH!!”

And then he was holding your waist again for dear life.

“We’regonnadiewe’regonnadiewe’regonnadiewe’regonna—”

“Chopper!” You called again.

Fwuup!

Chopper’s body shrunk in less than a second. He was back to being a tiny thing again, hugging your neck for dear life.

“It’s gonna get us!!”

No, it freaking won’t.

What you wanted was right ahead. The bike reached its peak speed once more. The giant snake put its head out of the water again, howling in a tone that made your bones shake, its blood thirst so strong you could feel it; Chopper and Usopp screamed in horror. Almost there almost there almost there almost there—

The water had transitioned from deep blue to clear turquoise.

The sea snake, in its blind hunger, didn’t notice the sudden change in depth.

It hit its face against the giant reef head on.

Boom!

The impact created a giant wave all around it, splashed water everywhere; you maneuvered the bike with difficulty, trying to surf on it and not get drowned. It was possible to hear chunks of corals cracking like marble and the white cloud of sand and residue under the water. After the great ripples passed by, you finally stopped the bike and turned it around to see what happened.

The snake stuck its head out of the water. It had its tongue out, its muzzle bleeding and staining the water red; it was obviously dizzy and disoriented, swaying from side to side, each eye looking in a different direction.

Even if it weren’t hurt, the beast was too big to swim over the reef.

You laughed.

“Hah! Fuck you!!” You raised your fist to the air as the victorious adrenaline washed over your body. “You hear that, dumbass?! Yeah— get back down right now!!”

Chopper let go of your neck and sat on your lap. Slowly, he began to giggle as you still shouted insults excitedly.

“Y-Yeah!! Get lost!! You jerk!!” He tried his best to sound tough.

The sea snake moaned sadly and disappeared under the water again.

You giggled at Chopper and lifted your palm to him. “Good job!”

He opened the widest smile you’d ever seen and hopped to high five you. Water had sprinkled his fur, so Chopper was visibly weakened, but he was still too excited to let it affect him. Oh fuck. He really is cute.

“Okay— now I get it.”

You looked back at Usopp for the first time, an adrenaline-driven grin still plastered on your face. He was definitely feeling the adrenaline too, except it tipped to the other side of the scale: the fear side. Just like you, Usopp was wet with salt water (maybe a little less than you, as your body blocked most of the splashes), and perhaps his lips were a bit colorless in a way that shouldn’t be normal. His cheeks were swollen from Chopper’s slaps. His pupils were two black holes. Yeah, he definitely didn’t have as much fun as you did.

“Get what?” you asked while swapping your hand on your face to get rid of water droplets.

“Why Luffy likes you.”

You chuckled and faced ahead again.

Oh.

What did he mean?

Girl, shut up— you know what he means. Of course Luffy likes you. He’s your friend! He wouldn’t be friends with someone he doesn’t like. Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what he meant. Obviously. Duh. Right.

You gulped, gripped the handlebars just a little tighter.

Why did his simple statement make your heart race faster than being chased by a sea beast?

You cleaned your throat, turned the bike on again and pretended that thought simply did not exist.

“We should rejoin the others.” You hoped your voice sounded normal.

Chopper pouted but did not complain. Little guy was so frightened at first but really ended up enjoying the high speeds, huh? 

“C-Can we go a little slower now? Please?” Usopp stuttered behind you. Chopper eyed his friend with a teasing smirk you hadn’t seen in him yet.

“What, you scared, Usopp? Coooward!” And it was funny how he sounded exactly like Nami last night. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Hey, I’m not scared! I have motion sickness, okay?! Also— woooah!!”

He was quick to grip your waist again the moment you made the bike move, even if it was super slow.

Chopper and you exchanged a knowing look. Usopp was utterly offended.

“Is this pose alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Silence. “Wait— this one makes me look cooler!”

Chopper puffed his chest, raised his arm up like a general while eyeing you from his side profile.

“Stop moving so much.”

He yelped a bit at your reprimand. “Sorry.”

The pencil didn’t run over the paper with the same ease as it used to — and honestly, it was getting on your nerves. But how else would it be? It’d been years since you seriously sat down to draw anything. And to think back then, it’d take you five minutes to have a realistic sketch ready… now, you were using the eraser much more than you’d like to admit.

The weather was so hot and humid that your clothes ended drying before the ship even approached Jaya’s harbors. As the rest of the crew moved around, getting excited to explore the island that got closer by the minute, you sat down on the deck’s floor to finally sketch Chopper, using some paper and a pencil Nami kindly lent. 

It was nice and quiet. You’d like to enjoy this atmosphere as much as possible before the ship docked, because you knew what Mock Town awaited them. 

“Say, Wolfie—” Usopp, who was still eyeing the water bike down there while leaning on the rail, asked. “How long does it take for the bike to charge?”

You didn’t look up at him, still focused on the clipboard over your legs. “Takes seven hours for a full charge. But usually three is enough for me to go where I want.”

“Hmmmm. The engine is phytoplankton-fueled, right?”

“Yes.”

Chopper gasped. “Do you mean there’s plankton inside the engine?!” 

“Don’t move. But yeah.”

Usopp turned to his little friend, his face brightening with enthusiasm. “The bike is exposed to sunlight so the plankton can photosynthesize, fueling the engine with energy! It’s a very complex and sophisticated method!”

“Oooh.” Chopper nodded. “This is really cool, Wolfie!”

You quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t build it. I just bought it.” Told the engineers to build one for me, actually. 

Usopp turned around to look at the bike again. “If it takes seven hours for a full charge… wow, how many miliamps the plankton tanks have? That’s, like, twice as much as most bikes I’ve seen in magazines!” You decided to not comment, as you didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. You eyed Usopp.

“You an engineer, Usopp?”

He waved his hand dismissively and lifted his chin in a smug expression. “Oh, engineering is just one of my professions, darling. I’ve got a degree at the prestigious Engineering University of Syrup, you ever heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Of course you haven’t. Only the top tier minds of the East Blue are able to join!”

Chopper gasped again. “How did you manage to be a pirate and a student at the same time?!”

Usopp tapped his own head. “Brilliant minds like Great Captain Usopp’s can multitask, my young fellow.”

“You’re sooo cool!” 

“Stop moving,” you reprimanded Chopper again whilst chuckling. You couldn’t tell who was stupider. It was endearing, however.

“Wait— so if the engines can move the bike super fast, why can’t we make ships move fast like that, too?” The little guy asked.

You looked down at the clipboard again. “I’m not one of the top tier minds of the East Blue, but as far as I know…” Usopp didn’t get the sarcasm, as he puffed his chest like a rooster, “…the resources to make an engine like that for a bigger vessel are absurd. Just not worth it. It’d also take much longer to charge, so it’d be impractical.”

Usopp hummed and held his chin in a pensive expression. “Yeah, you’re right, but… what if the ship had an engine like this for one-off situations? Something that wouldn’t push the ship all the time, but it could be activated in critical situations… like an escape?”

That was actually very clever. You nodded. “It would have to be an engine fueled by something else, though.”

“Yes.” Usopp frowned slightly. It was like he was visualizing the possibility on the ship’s hull. Despite his much exaggerated antics, it was obvious how this was a topic of his genuine interest. “I wonder how I could implement it on the Merry.”

You stopped sketching for a second.

“This ship?”

“Of course!”

He’s also very delusional. You went back to drawing. “…I don’t want to be mean or anything, but I don’t think this ship could take a renovation like that.”

I don’t think this ship can float to the next island. Because no, you weren’t an engineer nor a shipwright, but you’d been in enough ships in your life to understand that this one was in a horrible state. You hadn’t seen the huge patchings on the hull yesterday, or noticed how the main mast was hanging in an angle that didn’t look right. Yeah, it was funny at first to see that Luffy’s ship was patched up like his clothes used to be when he was little, but now it was a bit worrying.

Yet, you didn’t expect Usopp to get so protective out of nowhere.

“Of course it can!” He crossed his arms. “Merry can take anything! Especially a renovation!”

“Yeah!!” Chopper joined him passionately. “Merry is invincible!!”

You eyed Chopper, and Usopp, and went back to sketching, deciding to keep your pessimism (realism) to yourself.

“Well… you must really value this ship. Right? Since it was a gift from your girlfriend.”

Usopp gagged.

He leaned on the rail for support awkwardly as if his legs stopped working, gripped his onesie where the heart is; his eyes widened, his jaw was dropped.

“M-m-m-my— my what?!”

You paused again.

Now, you and Chopper watched him in silence.

“…Your girlfriend? It’s what Luffy said.”

“He said that?!” Usopp gulped and ran his hand over the bandana on his head. He avoided your gaze, his eyes wandering around the deck as he blinked multiple times. But you saw the exact moment the idea grew on him. He giggled at himself and smirked, suddenly faking a relaxed position. “W-Well— I guess he’s right!” Usopp waved his hand dismissively again. The movement was painfully theatrical. “Yeah. My girlfriend. Exactly.” His voice cracked when he pronounced ‘girlfriend’.

Chopper gasped. “Woooah! Why’d you never said you had a girlfriend, Usopp?!”

Usopp threw his imaginary hair back and puffed his chest even more. “Huh, I have many girlfriends, Chopper. This is just the usual for me.”

The little reindeer frowned. “So you’re a cheater?”

“No!” It was impossible to not laugh at the way Chopper unknowingly broke his demeanor in a second. “I don’t mean that I have many girlfriends at the same time! I-I had many girlfriends. Now I only got Kaya. Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

You focused on the paper again while still chuckling. So he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Luffy just assumed they were dating… judging by Usopp’s reaction, he’s not exactly wrong. Uh. So Luffy reads people well like that, huh? Well— he always did, he just doesn’t show it often. 

The pencil hovered over the paper for an instant.

Can he read me that well?

If so, why does the thought make my stomach turn?

What am I afraid of Luffy seeing in me?

What am I afraid of finding out about myself?

Thinking of the devil—

“What you doin’?”

You shrieked. Maybe because you didn’t notice him approaching, which was unacceptable (grandfather would punish you for this) or because you felt as if you were caught red-handed thinking of him.

Either way, Luffy was leaning down, hands on his knees, to peek at the clipboard from over your shoulder.

He rested his chin there. On your shoulder. 

That wasn’t the first time he did it. He used to do that too when you were kids, and it never bothered you. It didn’t bother you at that moment either.

But your heart was thundering in your ribcage anyway for whatever fucking reason.

Luffy went hmmmmm. It felt that his voice reverberated in your bones.

“I knew you were itching to do your thing with him.” He giggled. “Funny, ain’t he?”

“He’s a very interesting individual.”

“Very interesting individual.” He imitated your voice in a mocking tone. Worst part? He actually sounded like you. Luffy was also great at impersonating people. Usopp laughed, Chopper laughed, you giggled because you couldn’t even pretend to be angry at him.

“Woke up in a good mood?”

“I’m always in a good mood.”

“Can I take a look at the drawing now?” Chopper asked… it looked like his arm was in pain now from being in the same position for so long. Well, he chose that pose. 

“I’m almost finished.” And then you were running the pencil on the paper again. 

Luffy stepped away from you and it felt like you could finally breathe again. You didn’t turn around to see where he was going. Instead, you focused on finishing the sketches… mostly so you could diverge your attention from that other issue.

Until three seagulls fell from the sky and you realized you had much bigger issues ahead.

Chopper yelled.

“AAAAH!! They were shot!!”

“Shot?” Usopp quirked one eyebrow. “I didn’t hear any shot.”

Luffy ran down the deck and crouched near the birds. “Yay! Let’s fry ‘em and eat ‘em!”

Chopper finally let go of his statue position. He quickly grabbed a pair of tweezers and picked a bullet from inside the dead bird.

“Look! I told you!” Nami approached, leaning down to analyze the bullet as well. “Judging by the trajectory they were flying, the shot came from the direction of the island!!”

“The island?” It was Nami’s turn to quirk one eyebrow. She straightened her back and looked at the ship’s bow, protecting her eyes from the sunlight with her hand.

The island was ahead. Yet, it was still a small dot in the distance. It wasn’t possible to distinguish buildings, ports, anything.

“We’re still at least 20 nautical miles away from the island, Chopper. That’s impossible.” Her shoulders relaxed with the certainty of what she meant. 

Usopp leaned on the rail again, relaxing as much as her. “If that was true, what type of vision, weapon and skill this shooter would have, huh?” He shrugged. “These seagulls probably were shot somewhere else but just fell now.”

Chopper pouted as no one seemed to believe him. Luffy took the birds and told Sanji to make them for dinner. To the rest of them, the problem was solved.

Meanwhile, your blood went cold.

You knew a shooter with that much vision, skill and the proper long-distance weapon. Someone who could very well shoot a seagull 20 nautical miles away from it. 

Saqr.

That realization made you forget about everything else — the fun you had earlier with Chopper and Usopp, your eagerness to finish the sketches; your heartbeat quickened for another reason now. It immediately grounded you back to your reality. The life of a Scarpia. 

What if Saqr was in Jaya? What if he followed you? What if he shot these seagulls to send a message? A warning?

You got up, expanded your perception, put all of your senses on high alert, the clipboard now forgotten on the floor. Chopper gasped loudly, eyes gleaming, and took it in his hands.

“That’s awesome!!” 

“What? Lemme see—” Usopp rushed to peek at it too. He gasped as well and smiled. “So you do know how to draw!”

A full body drawing, a side profile portrait, a close-up on his hoof, a few notes around them — your heart wasn’t in it anymore, nor your attention. Each second got the ship closer to Jaya. With each passing second, your heart grew with apprehension. If Saqr really is here, if he really is waiting for me, then he is not alone. He must have informed the main house already. If grandfather comes along… Luffy’s crew is doomed. I can’t let it happen. 

Your suspicions got worse the moment Going Merry docked on Mock Town’s main harbor. 

It was a lawless land, you already knew that; pirates from all around gathered there. Most of them were too small to be worth your attention… but there were at least three presences in the town that burned like torches. Much stronger than the others. Overwhelmingly strong.

At least one of them could be Saqr.

The crew was excited to explore the city. Luffy and Zoro quickly jumped out of the ship, being followed by a worried Nami. For a second, you thought of joining them — but that was an awful idea. You didn’t want to alarm Luffy of the possible danger he was in; Luffy was hard headed. He wouldn’t understand the gravity of the situation. He’d want to fight.

But you still needed to check the city anyway.

That’s when you saw someone else quietly leaving the ship.

You grabbed your bag and ran.

“Do you mind if I accompany you?”

Nico Robin stopped on her tracks.

She turned around. Slowly, her eyes analyzed you; the purple hat she wore cast a mysterious shadow over them. 

The small smile she opened was just as mysterious.

“It’ll be a pleasure.”

Mock Town was as disgusting as ever.

A ridiculous amount of bars, pleasure houses and motels scattered around the city with the type of people you might expect to attend these places. Drunkards, thieves, lowly pirates… they were everywhere. It was similar to Tigerlily Island in a way, except much smaller, much cheaper, with less gold and less protection and less organization… less everything.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t feel safe to be there as a woman if you weren’t you.

The men howled worse than hungry wolves as you and Robin walked by. It was disgusting. Robin didn’t look bothered in the slightest as if she wasn’t even listening to them. You, on the other hand, were going paranoid.

Saqr might be here. He might be.

Strong presences. There were sounds of fights breaking out here and there which immediately spiked your attention. He might be here. He might.

You and Robin barely spoke at all.

A part of you knew the situation was awkward and knew you were making it worse. Nico Robin herself was a quiet one, from what you could understand; she wasn’t as talkative as the rest of her crew mates, often sitting at lonelier parts of the ship with a book in hands. You usually didn’t speak much either if you weren’t surrounded by the right people. So… it was just you and Robin walking around side by side in silence.

If you weren’t under unimaginable levels of stress, you would’ve let another wave of astonishment wash over you. That was still Nico Robin. Scarpia Family, overall, kept eyes and ears on the most important criminals in the world; it was valuable to have info on everyone, as they might become a target in the future. Other than just killing people, Scarpia was respected in the underworld and requested because they had information about a lot of important people.

Nico Robin was one of them. You didn’t know exactly who was assigned to hunt her… it was ages ago, before you had even been initiated. You didn’t remember who failed and how she managed to escape. But that was impressive by itself. Not many people in this world had been targeted by a Scarpia and lived to tell the next day.

And she was in Luffy’s crew of all people. That was such a bizarre coincidence.

Another explosion somewhere in the city. No one really bothered. Focus. Focus. You have to find whose strong presence is that. 

Robin stopped walking out of nowhere, grounding you back to your surroundings.

You hadn’t realized you were in front of a clothing store.

She analyzed the mannequins in the shop’s window with attention. After maybe ten seconds, she decided that she liked something and walked in.

Not waiting or even glancing at you at all.

Oh.

Okay.

You followed.

The bell at the door rang softly as you opened it. There were only two other clients inside and a saleswoman. Said saleswoman had already approached Robin; you heard as she requested the green dress her size displayed on the window. The short woman ran to get it for her. Actually… she wasn’t even that short, it’s just that Robin was very tall. She was taller than Zoro and Sanji, wasn’t she?

Robin approached a clothes rack and checked them. One after the other. Patiently. Not acknowledging you at all.

You stood on the other side of the rack awkwardly.

Okay.

This is weird.

You stole another glance at her. The Nico Robin looked much younger than you assumed… she had a bounty over her head for the past twenty years, right? Well, she didn’t look over thirty. So… she’d been hunted since she was a kid? What type of crimes could a kid commit? If you weren’t under Scarpia’s anonymity, you’d have been prosecuted for muder from age six, the voice of reason in your head spoke. Yeah. It was right. Who was the first person I killed anyway? Hm… Landon brought him to me as part of the training. Some random guy. Whatever.

Focus!, you reminded yourself again.

Right. Right.

The nearest strong presence was somewhere south. You had to find a way to investigate it… could you convince Robin to come along? Or maybe you could simply go by yourself, as she wasn’t paying attention to you anyway. What were you even doing here in the first place?

You stole another glance at Robin. She was still checking clothes. 

…She was really attractive.

Robin looked like the type of woman who would be plastered in double-page perfume advertisements from News Coo. The type of model who would do fashion shows in Gran Tesoro or some other fancy island. There was something very magnetic in her mysterious cat-like eyes, her aquiline nose, the calm lip tightened smile that constantly adorned her features. She was very feminine in a mature way that kind of reminded you of your mother.

“Won’t you pick anything for yourself?”

You shrieked.

It was the first time she spoke up, once again, not lifting her eyes to you. You were gawking at her, weirdo. She definitely noticed!

You cleaned your throat awkwardly and dropped your gaze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

“Really?” Robin quirked one perfect full brow. “I thought your clothes were still damp.”

You touched your skirt on instinct. Well, they kind of are a bit, but as long as I’m still not smelling of wet dog, I don’t mind. “Not really.”

“Hm.”

Five seconds later, she passed two hangers over the rack in your direction.

You looked at the hangers, then at her, then at the hangers. It was the first time Robin looked at you back. It sent a shiver down your spine for some fucking reason.

“What?” You sounded like a fool.

“I think these will look good on you.”

She’s offering the clothes, dumbass. Just take them!

“Oh.”

You took the hangers and analyzed them.

It wasn’t anything too flashy — a stained moss green tank top with a scalloped hem and white ripped jeans shorts. It… wasn’t exactly the type of thing you would go for. But it wasn’t ugly either.

Robin placed a thin silver necklace with a small key  pendant above it. She turned around the rack really fast. She’s very silent, too. A normal person wouldn’t have noticed her coming.

“Hm…” and then she was placing a matching bracelet over the necklace. “This’ll fit.”

Robin eyed you expectantly.

You blinked.

She blinked.

Robin stepped aside.

“The fitting room is in the back.”

Oh.

Oooh.

She wants me to dress them.

And it didn’t feel like a request either. That woman looked like she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Right.” Why the hell were you obeying?! 

You had no idea, but you stepped into the fitting room anyway. You also had no idea how she got your size right without asking. You also had to admit that the outfit she picked did look good — it was fresh and stylish. You usually didn’t wear something so laid-back, but it looked cute anyway.

You also didn’t know why the hell you got flustered when Robin looked at you with approval.

“I knew it’d look good on you.”

“Indeed! You look beautiful!” The short saleswoman complimented, but that was kinda her job.

“…Thank you.” You sound stupid and weak. Stop sounding stupid and weak.

Robin turned around to face another rack. “I was looking for something that would match this skirt,” she pondered out loud. “A tube top would do, I guess… but this one is also pretty.”

You stood there for a while like a fool before you realized she wasn’t asking the saleswoman — she was asking your opinion.

Oooh.

You approached her at fast steps. “The tube top! It matches the skirt,” you didn’t know why the hell you were fiddling with your fingers behind your back nervously. “But the other shirt is cute, too. Just with something else.”

Robin analyzed both hangers and nodded. “I’m taking these to the fitting room.”

The brunette walked with some clothes and disappeared behind the rounded curtain.

You stood on the same spot. Awkwardly. 

Giddy.

Weird.

I’ve never gone shopping with another girl before.

Well… there was Ariadne, but she was a child with a very questionable fashion sense. You’d always seen girls walking around malls holding shopping bags and giving opinions on each other’s clothes. It’s simply not an experience you could share with anyone. Had you ever held a conversation about fashion before? Just with stylists when commissioning a specific piece, maybe. Never like that, in a casual atmosphere.

You started checking the rack. 

Robin picked an outfit for me. And it looks kinda cute.

You didn’t know why the hell you were smiling.

Robin walked out of the fitting room eventually. When she did, you had another skirt in hands.

“This one matches the other shirt. I think.”

Robin looked at it, shrugged and walked inside the fitting room again.

This was nice.

So nice that, for the next hour, you forgot what you were doing there in the city.

You paid for the clothes and left the store wearing them, stopping at another one. You decided to not buy anything else, just accompanying Robin and giving opinions when she asked for them. Turns out Robin was more easy-going than you first assumed. Shop owners really loved her. She spent tons… and in exchange, she got more info about Jaya, even getting a map of the island from a shop owner (who must obviously fell in love with her at first sight).

When you left the third store, reality whipped you in the face.

A cold shiver in the nape of your neck.

You were used to this feeling. Every movement of yours became calculated, mechanical, to not let it show that you had noticed.

You were being watched. Followed.

Robin and you walked side by side. You matched her pace and lit a cigarette in a natural movement.

Shit. I let my guard down. Grandfather would beat me up for this.

The person was skilled in hiding their presence, even more so since the other three strong presences — not to mention Luffy’s and Zoro’s somewhere in the city — overwhelmed their much quieter one. One thing you were sure of: it was not any of your brothers. A true Scarpia wouldn’t allow anyone to notice their presence, even in the slightest. Whoever followed you was skilled, not a master.

Relax your body. Don’t let it show. Don’t look back.

You side eyed Robin.

“So… how’d you guys get the whole idea about an island in the sky?” You asked absently after blowing smoke.

“Have you never heard of it?”

“Not that I remember.”

Robin nodded in a small movement. “We saw a ship fall from the sky.”

Your shocked reaction was genuine. The way she stated such absurdity with a blank face made you wonder if she was messing around. 

“...Are you serious?”

“Yes. You can ask the others later.” Robin shrugged. “The Captain found an old map in the ship wreckage… a map of Skypiea. After that… well… he couldn’t contain his excitement.”

“I figured.” Of course Luffy would go crazy over the mere possibility of an island in the sky existing. However, most people would brush it off as a simple fake map… it was surprising (and heartwarming) that his crew simply decided to go along with his insanity.

They moved. Approaching at slow steps. Don’t look back.

You took another drag and blew the smoke. Your pack was almost finished… you should stop at a bar and buy more.

Robin took a turn and you followed. They’re not looking for a fight. Whoever’s following probably knows they can’t face me. They’ll keep their distance… who are they reporting to?

She was three steps ahead of you.

With the corner of your eye, you saw something strange. A… pink flower petal?

The next second—

You couldn’t move.

The single shopping bag with your damp clothes fell on the floor. The cigarette dropped from your lips. Your heart rate spiked, all of your instincts screamed.

Danger danger danger danger danger.

There were— there were arms holding you. Multiple arms that sprouted from your own body. 

Your legs, your torso, kept your hands tightly behind your back; their grip was of iron, interlocking in strategic places to simply not allow you to move a centimeter. How didn’t I notice this?! What is happening? Is it my pursuer?! But they didn’t feel strong—

You groaned with the struggle of trying to move, but half a second was enough to realize this was not a good idea.

And for the first time, you looked up.

Robin was still three steps ahead. Now, she faced you… her arms were crossed in front of her chest, forming an X.

A single look at her expression was enough to understand everything.

Robin wasn’t smiling softly. Her gaze wasn’t mysterious anymore. No; her intentions were as clear as day now. Quietly ferocious. Her deep blue eyes were as cold as ice and as hard as steel. The shadow cast by her hat made her look menacing.

And you were a fool.

Robin had led you to a dark empty alley and you followed like a fucking fool. She spent the last hour working on you, breaking down your walls until you wouldn’t consider her a threat because you were too focused on someone else. 

You were so certain that Zoro was wary of your presence that you didn’t notice who actually was paying close attention to you in the crew.

You are a Scarpia. Life will never allow you to go shopping like a normal person. You should’ve understood that already.

Robin was a Devil Fruit user. She made those limbs grow from you; no amount of speed would be able to run away from that, because you’d be trying to run from yourself. Simply impossible.

Yet, your first instinct was to fight — control your emotions, don’t panic, think of a strategy, use brute force — but there were two things stopping you from doing so. The first: you were in an awfully dangerous position. The way her limbs were tangled on your body, their steel grip, the positions; if she wanted, she could break your spine in half like a dry stick.

The second… she was Luffy’s crewmate. 

You didn’t want to fight Luffy’s crewmate. Luffy’s friend, regardless of her intentions.

So you breathed in. Breathed out. Calmed your nerves. Dropped your aggression.

And waited.

Robin measured you up and down.

“There are things you can’t hide, no matter how hard you try.” Her voice was quiet, sultry, dangerous. Robin approached slowly. “You make no sound when you walk. You make no sound when you breathe. It’s like being around a ghost. You spot ways out in every room and you stand near them. Your sleep is featherlight because you can’t turn part of your brain off… you were trained not to.”

She towered over you.

You did not break eye contact.

“Since Captain said you’re his friend, I’d rather not fight you. But… you can’t blame me for doing this. Can you?”

Shit.

Robin thinks I’m hunting her.

You didn’t let your shock show; you just kept looking back at her. Robin didn’t expect you to say anything anyway. Two other arms sprouted from you, dropping a few pink petals in their wake, and took your bag.

Your brain yelled NO!!. Still, you didn’t say anything. No aggression. No aggression. I won’t fight Luffy’s friend. I won’t.

Robin’s arms unzipped your bag. One of her hands checked inside it… and took out the single thing no one was supposed to see.

A white mask.

Robin tightened her eyes for a moment. The next, they were widened in an expression you hadn’t seen in her before.

She stepped back.

When she looked at you again, there was something new. Not just ferocity, sagacity and curiosity. Shock. And maybe what you saw deep there was fear.

“You’re the White Wolf?”

Her voice dropped because Robin knew she shouldn’t talk about it out loud. No one talked about it out loud. It was supposed to be a secret. A myth. A fear. A harbinger of death that had never failed to reap their targets.

Your expression did not change.

“I was already sure you were an assassin… but…” Robin looked at the mask then at you again, tightening her eyes. You could see a million possibilities running through her mind. She tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t expect the person that killed Stork was a child.”

You would’ve shrugged if you could. “Your captain defeated a Warlord… we’re the same age.”

“No. This is different.”

Her gaze changed once again. It set to stone. Robin was scared, Robin was astonished, Robin was angry.

Robin thought it was a kill or die situation.

“Robin.” Your voice was quiet, trying to show as much serenity as you could. “I am not hunting you.”

“I don’t believe you.” She took another step back. With each word, she got more emotional; angrier. “I’m not under Baroque Work’s protection anymore. This is the perfect opportunity.”

“If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have let my guard down around you. You have to trust me.”

Somehow, this last sentence made her angrier.

“This is what happened to me the last time I trusted one of your relatives.” Robin turned to her side and lifted her crop top to expose her ribs. 

A scar.

It was old, had almost the same tone of her skin. Came from her last rib all the way under her shirt where you couldn’t see… a strike aimed at her vital organs. An extremely clean cut. 

Extremely familiar.

You had many scars like that over your body, though on you, he wasn’t trying to kill you. Just inflict pain. 

How did Robin escape Scarpia Virgus? 

Why didn’t he chase her to the ends of the world? It wasn’t grandfather’s style to simply let someone live. Robin’s sole existence was a miracle.

She had all the reasons in the world to want to kill you.

…But you weren’t expecting to feel sad about it.

The last hour… walking around with her, shopping, having lighthearted conversations about clothes, nothing too important. The way she picked your outfit with care. How you had fun, a different type of fun than running from a sea beast earlier with the boys, but fun anyway. How you could forget a bit about your true identity, the reality of your family. How nice it was to simply have an older woman around you. Like… like the older sister you never had.

But once again, it was all destroyed because you were you. A Scarpia.

You took a deep breath.

“Robin… I understand—”

“Oh, you don’t.” She cut you off like a sharp knife. “You’re tipping on the other side of the scale, in fact.”

She was right. Fuck. You had to make her understand it, otherwise this woman would try to kill you. “Alright. If you don’t believe me, believe in your captain. He was telling the truth. We’re childhood friends and I came after him.”

“That would be an extremely convenient way to approach.”

You tightened your eyes at her.

“Luffy is the most important person in my life. I would never do anything to harm him; harming you would affect him. I’d rather die than do it.”

You were taken aback by your own words.

Of course… you already knew this for a long time. Yet, it was the first time you stated it out loud to someone else. Just how ridiculously important that straw hat fool was. How he was one of your most precious motivations to keep living, to pursue strength, to pursue freedom. Your best friend. Your one and only.

Your heart ached in a bittersweet way you couldn’t quite comprehend.

Robin watched you in silence for long seconds.

You couldn’t decipher what she was thinking. She looked at the mask a few times, then at you. You tried your best to keep calm and to show no aggression. You weren’t angry at her at all. Were you in her place, you would’ve done far worse already.

So you just waited.

Robin stepped closer once again.

“How can I trust that you won’t denounce me?”

“There’s not a commission over your head at the moment.” A part of you was horrified for exposing family secrets like that, one of the most rigid rules. “We don’t hunt unless commissioned. And I’m not denouncing you to the Government either… for obvious reasons.”

She still hesitated. It seems she was searching for something in you that you didn’t understand.

And maybe she found it.

Robin nodded.

Her hands put the mask inside the bag again, zipped it, and put it back on your shoulder. Slowly, the arms that held you retracted and disappeared in another breeze of pink petals. The pressure of her grasp left your body aching. Another arm took the shopping bag from the floor and handed it to you.

The brunette woman crossed her arms.

“I owe you a cigarette pack, I guess.”

“That’d be nice.” You looked at the unlit cigarette on the floor on instinct.

Robin had a new expression on her face — one you honestly weren’t expecting to see at all… it made her look even younger. Embarrassment.

“...My apologies. I was quite violent.”

You chuckled and shrugged. “No, it’s fine. I would’ve killed me if I was you. You are very kind.”

Robin quirked one eyebrow… the ghost of her signature tiny smile was back. It made you wonder quietly if she wasn’t faking all that for the last hour. Maybe she really was easy-going, maybe she really wanted your silly opinions on clothes. Maybe (not maybe, you did) you’d like to spend more time with her in a relaxed atmosphere.

…Earlier today with Chopper and Usopp… the afternoon with Robin…

Maybe Luffy wasn’t the only one having more people in his orbit. Maybe you could have more people in yours, too. 

It would be really nice.

Robin sighed. “The Captain must be a magnet for troublesome people, huh…”

You huffed. “He is trouble himself!”

The two of you shared a quiet laugh.

You walked out of the alley back to the ugly streets of Mock Town. This problem was solved. 

However. 

You excused yourself for a moment while Robin entered a small restaurant.

There was that other problem to solve. 

And unfortunately for whoever it was… you were not as kind as Robin.

A/N: WE BONDED WITH 3 STRAWHATS!! YAYYY - Luffy was absent most of the chapter 😶‍🌫️ we'll make up for it in the future obviously. But this girl needs MORE FRIENDS!! - I'm happy that I finally managed to squeeze some action in the story 🙂‍↕️ tho the outcome was basically massive marine life destruction lolll can you imagine smashing a giant coral reef 😭 they're all going to hell for that - MC, Luffy and Usopp are all the same age, it makes sense in my head that they'd get along quickly!! - OH ROBIN THE QUEEN THAT YOU ARE. People tend to forget she was ALSO an assassin. Also, this is right after she joined the crew; Robin didn't really feel part of the strawhats yet and she distrusted her own shadow. If there's someone who would be suspicious AND immediately clock that there's something sketchy about MC AND who would know about Scarpia family at all, it's definitely her!! I also love this headcanon (I'm almost sure Oda said this himself in some SBS tbh) that Robin likes to dress the crewmates 🥹 - Technology in One Piece is bonkers!! Tho the water bike is just a jet ski, I didn't want it to work with our regular boring tech. So yeah, phytoplankton tanks 🤓 just a little something Usopp can nerd about 🥹☝️ - I'm not gonna be wattpad-y again and link the outfit Robin picked for her, but I was 100% thinking of a fit Daniela from Katseye wore in a random tiktok lol it was gorgeous - ANYWAY!! Thank you so much all of you that have been patiently waiting for updates and always leaving comments!! They really motivate me to keep writing 🥹 Next chapter we're gonna meet Montblanc Cricket… there's also that mysterious person following us… ugh what's gonna happen?? I DON'T KNOW!! See you <3

[zorostitties]

Intertwined; 6

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child’s heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, underage smoking, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 12k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! MY GOSH!! I can't believe it's been so long since the last update. Thank you so much for your patience!! This chapter got pretty long, but I didn't have it in me to chop it 🥹 Enjoy! <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

➛ 17

Luffy coughed.

He coughed, coughed, coughed, and pulled away from the hug for a moment. He had the scowl of a cat about to vomit. He opened his mouth and took a white dove feather from his tongue.

And then — he was smiling again.

Grinning.

He held you by the arms. You held him by the arms.

“Wolfie!!”

“Luffy!!”

“What the hell are you doing here?! I was just—”

“I was looking for you! I heard an explosion and—”

“—we were buying food and I got lost and—”

“—I didn’t know if I’d find you here but—”

“—how the hell did you end up here?! How did—”

Zzzzzup!

A bullet came flying right by your ear. You leaned your head away in time. It landed on the bell tower’s pillar, cracking the concrete and making debris fly in all directions.

Oh. Right. There’s people shooting at us.

Luffy scowled again — an angry expression this time — and looked at the Marine troopers down there.

“Hey! We’re having a moment here!”

“Climb up the tower!” One of them shouted the orders. “Break the door down and get him!”

Luffy clicked his tongue in annoyance. Without warning, his arm wrapped around your waist like a snake.

“Let’s get outta here!”

Upon feeling his grip, your first instinctive reaction was to fight back. How long had it been since anyone was so close to you? Well… you knew exactly how long ago — three years, since the moment you said goodbye and hugged for the last time. You weren’t used to physical contact (non-violent physical contact, at least) anymore.

But there was the other instinct in you, too. The one you’d tried to suppress for your own sanity.

That was Luffy. You’d never be able to hurt Luffy.

So this time, you suppressed the predominant part of you — the sharp blade. You sheathed it and hid it in the safe with a complicated password in the corner of your mind, the way you used to do when you were a kid.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and grinned back.

Luffy swung the two of you over the roofs, faster than any of the troopers down there could follow. You were used to doing that too with your chain, but his grip was much more accurate than yours (he was using his actual limbs to do that. Of course it’d be easier). You already knew the chill in your stomach whenever you’d sway meters and meters away from the ground... yet, it was the first time that felt exciting.

Finally, he settled over another roof near the shore at a considerable distance from the church. His arm unwrapped, went back to its normal form— and then he was holding both your shoulders and grinning again.

“Wolfiiiiiie!!”

You felt about to explode.

Luffy. Luffy Luffy Luffy. It was Luffy right there in front of you, smiling at you, hopping from feet to feet like an excited bunny, and you were involuntarily hopping in place like a fool too. Since when were you not in complete control of your body? You knew the answer. Since you met him. And it was him again after all this time, despite all of your insecurities, despite all the bad outcomes you had imagined— he didn’t push you away, he didn’t forget you, he wasn’t bothered, he— he—

You allowed yourself to give an actual look at him.

Luffy was the same, except he wasn’t. Sun and salt made him tanner than he’d ever been back in Dawn Island; it made the thin scar under his left eye stand out even more, as it had a much lighter color than his skin. His hair was still messy, but shorter than you remembered… it didn’t look like he chopped the strands by himself. He had an actual haircut now? His baby cheeks were gone, his features were sharper. The straw hat was more battered than you’d ever seen. Luffy wore a red vest that seemed slightly oversized, jeans shorts and… yeah. The sandals hadn’t changed.

He was taller. He didn’t look like a scrawny boy anymore, either. Luffy wasn’t bulk, but the muscles of his arms, shoulders and back were very well defined. Talking about arms — he had new scars over them; most looked pretty recent, still reddish.

But his smile was the exact same. The gleam in his eyes. The warmth that radiated from him, both physically and through haki.

Luffy.

After three years. After all you’d been through. After coming to the point of not thinking of him, of avoiding the memory of his face (and Ace’s, and Makino’s, and Dadan’s, and the landscape of Mt. Colubo) to make everything easier to bear, to ease the ache in your heart.

There he was now.

And only at that moment you realized how you missed his stupidly loud voice — even if it sounded different from what you remembered.

“What are you doing here?!” He was shaking you by the shoulders. You cackled.

“I already said! I was looking for you!”

“But— how? How’d you know I’d be here?!”

“I just guessed that you would end up here to get supplies after leaving Alabasta.”

“How’d you know I was in Alabasta?!”

“You’re famous, Luffy! It was all over the news!”

He giggled like a maniac. It honestly looked like his cheeks would tear apart from the size of that grin.

“Hah! D’you see it? D’you see it?! You saw my bounty?!”

“Yes, I saw it— stop shaking me!” You swatted his hands away, but both of you were still smiling.

Luffy giggled again and put his hands on his hips. “If you saw it, it means Shanks must’ve seen it, too!” A very very very very tiny part of you was just a little irritated that he was thinking of Shanks upon meeting you again after years. But just a tiny part. “Hah, I want to meet him again—” This tiny part of you was about to get bigger when Luffy interrupted himself. His smile faded into a frown. He groaned and crossed his arms. “Wait. This ain’t right.”

“What’s not right?”

He pointed from himself to you. “I was supposed to find you, not the opposite.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“’Course it matters! It was a promise!” He held his chin. “I mean— I thought of finding you, but like— you never told me where you live, and I couldn’t go around asking for you by your name, so, uhhh, you know, it was complicated—”

Another smile slowly crept up on your lips.

Don’t tell Ace my secret or I’ll smack you.

That name was forbidden, even though you decided to share it with him anyway.

He remembered.

You slapped his arm lightly. “Whatever, Luffy. Of course I’d find you first. I’m better than you anyway.” You smirked at him in a teasing way. You had forgotten about this side of you, too.

Luffy scoffed and quirked one eyebrow. “I’m the one with a hundred million over my head!” Now he was smirking in a teasing way, his voice coated with an extra mocking tone. “I bet you’re pretty weak, huh? ‘Cause you ain’t got no bounty on ya.”

“Of course I have no bounty. No one’s supposed to know I exist.”

“Boooo. Loser excuse!”

He stuck his tongue out. You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Anyway, where’s your crew?”

“Dunno. I lost them.” Luffy was eyeing something in you. Your shoulder? He stood by your side.

“So where’s your ship? Are you docked in the main harbor or— what are you doing?”

Luffy grinned again.

“I’m taller than you.”

He was measuring your shoulders.

You frowned. “No, you’re not.”

“I so am!”

Actually.

It was a bit weird that you didn’t have to look down to meet his eyes anymore.

But— taller? No, no way.

“You’re not taller than me!”

“I am!”

He passed his hand from the top of his head to yours; there was the difference of, like two centimeters. That was enough for him to send you an infuriating look of superiority.

“This hat gives you, like, five centimeters more! Take it off and you’ll see!”

“Huh, what about these freaking boots you wearin’?” He pointed to your feet. “Take ‘em off!”

“I’m not taking my shoes off!”

“Looooooser! You know you’re shorter than me now and don’t want to admit it!”

“Shut up! You’re not taller than—”

Zzzzuuup!

A bullet came flying right between you two.

The troopers appeared from the corner.

“There he is! Shoot him down!”

Instead of showing annoyance, Luffy’s face contorted in the grin of an evil gremlin. Oh. You knew that expression.

He side eyed you. “I bet I can beat more of ‘em than you!”

That awakened something else that had been dormant for the past three years.

Your heart pounded faster. Your fingers tingled with excitement. You untangled the chain from around our hips and twirled the spiked ball, grinning back at him.

“Bet.”

Both of you jumped from the roof and attacked at the same time.

From that point on, those troopers started having a really bad day.

In a normal day, you wouldn’t face Marines unless if your target was one. The family was always very hesitant to accept a commission to hunt a Marine because getting involved with the government could lead to many troubles. So… you decided to not kill them. Just knock them out. Which was very unusual. Your instincts told you to be fast and lethal. Each blow was supposed to strike irreparable, mortal damage.

In a normal day, all of that would be boring, too. These were just regular street troopers, not even a lieutenant among them to offer a real challenge. Your efforts were put to a minimum.

But Luffy was there by your side. Dodging bullets, gomu gomu no mi-ing opponents, sending them flying around with his blows. Laughing maniacally. Toying them. The troopers didn’t offer him much of a challenge either, but nevertheless, Luffy thought all of that was fun.

And he was infectious.

He didn’t fight like you. His movements weren’t surgically precise to end the fight as fast as possible. He twirled, stretched, jumped, hid behind them and then patted them on the shoulder so they could be met with a punch on the face — all the while he laughed, almost beamed, because he was having fun, and you could feel him through observation haki, and you could feel how the troopers were infuriated and scared of him because they had no chance at all.

And then you caught yourself laughing, too, almost too focused on watching him fight than fight yourself. You felt the adrenaline bubbling in your system in a different way than it usually would. Making the chain wrap around opponents was easy like swimming with the current. Was refreshing. And maybe you were just letting yourself be influenced by his feelings, but you found yourself having fun, too.

That was a first.

When the last marine fell, Luffy twirled around to face you.

“How many did you beat?!”

“I wasn’t counting.” Lie. You beat 18. He beat 15. You from years ago would shove this win on his face, but strangely, at that moment, that didn’t matter.

He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, still grinning devilishly. “You were supposed to count, so if you didn’t, it means I won!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you wrapped the chain around your hip again in a fast movement. “There’s more coming. We should leave.”

“You scared of losing again, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sooo scared,” you rolled your eyes, but didn’t even try to hide your smile. “Where’s your ship?”

Luffy hummed and looked down the shore. “It’s on the other side of the island! We should start running!”

“We don’t need to run.” He eyed you with curiosity when you started walking back to the inn where you spent the night. “I can take us there faster.”

Luffy’s eyes were quite literally beaming.

“That’s sooo cool!!”

A part of you already knew (hoped, at least) that he would react like that, but it made you feel giddy anyway.

“C’mon, hop in!”

“But I want to ride it!”

“Nope. You’ll crash it and kill us.”

Luffy whined like a child, but jumped from the pier to sit behind you anyway.

His amazement was justified: there weren’t many water bikes around. Those were way too expensive for most people, and as they couldn’t take anyone too far, kind of impractical. That was a problem the Scarpia engineers solved for you very quickly. Your black motor bike was a singular model in the world: it could work for fifteen hours straight before recharging, and the Seastone lining protected you from any beasts. You could even reach islands at a relatively close distance from each other, though you’d rather not do it if not necessary; the unpredictable weather changes from the Grand Line could drown you in a minute.

You turned the keys on the handlebars and the bike’s engines roared with life. Luffy giggled behind you.

“You sure that your ship is on the other side?” You asked, looking at him from over your shoulder.

“Yeah! We docked it on an islet!” Luffy hopped while still sitting. “Let’s go already!”

You held the grips while smirking. “Hold on tight. I don’t feel like getting my clothes wet to save you.”

He giggled again and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Which, duh. Of course he did. Where else would he hold on tight? Yet, a part of you was caught off guard — the part that forgot that not every physical touch meant violence. This part was probably the responsible for making goosebumps roam your skin, too, because he was glued to your back, his chin casually coming to rest on your shoulder.

It reminded you of that night years ago when you… uh… cuddled.

Whatever whatever whatever.

You ignited the bike and sped through the waters.

“Yaaahoooo!!” Luffy exclaimed.

“Don’t yell in my ear!” Despite your complaint, you were smiling, too — almost hoping you could look back to get a glimpse of his hair being thrown back with the speed.

“This thing go any faster?!”

You were so hoping he would ask that.

As you moved away from the shore, the waves got bigger and bigger. The sounds of the ocean and the bike breaking through it were loud, the cold wind made you shiver. You were nearing the breaker zone. Closer. Closer.

“Hold on tight, Luffy!”

“I am holding tight!”

“Tighter!”

Again, his arms became snakes, both of them turning around your waist multiple times.

You turned the accelerator.

Luffy screamed with the sudden speed. His torso was not glued to you anymore, being propelled centimeters back with the momentum.

Fast fast fast fast fast. You sped on a beeline towards the breaker zone. The waves stood angry, three meters tall. Fast fast fast fast fast—

You caught one of the big ones a moment before it could break; the wave worked as a ramp up. The bike slid on it smoothly, reached its peak— and for three seconds, you were in the air. Your stomach dropped.

Luffy’s scream was louder than the waves breaking.

The bike fell again, splashing water all over you both. He laughed — scandalous, loud, adorable — and you ended up laughing too, blinking the water away from your lashes.

“You okay?!” You looked over your shoulder for a second, worried about the water on him. Turns out he got less wet than you. He wasn’t worried in the slightest.

“Do that again!!”

“I will!” And that wasn’t even just because he was asking — the breaker zone wasn’t over.

You jumped over another big wave, and two more, making Luffy laugh and scream maniacally every time without fail. Finally, you reached the deep waters where the sea was calmer and you could have a good look over the coast and its many harbors. Your legs and boots were wet, but you didn’t care.

Luffy told you where to go. Quite frankly, you didn’t really trust his sense of direction, but he sounded certain enough — and the idea of just speeding with him for a while wasn’t even that bad. You didn’t mind his loud voice, his strong grip on you, the warmth of his body against the cold wind and water. You didn’t mind it, not at all.

Finally, a few islets peeked in the horizon.

“There! There!” He exclaimed excitedly while pointing ahead. They were away from any harbors on the main island. A smart place to dock. You were sure this wasn’t Luffy’s idea.

It didn’t take long to find the ship.

It was a respectable medium-sized caravel with two masts. The figurehead had the form of a very charismatic sheep. The central sail had a giant Jolly Roger painted on it: a skull wearing a straw hat. Straw Hat Pirates, as they were already being called.

The smile that crept up your lips was instinctive.

You anchored the bike near the ship and jumped on board with Luffy’s help.

As soon as you stepped on the ship’s bow, he extended his arms proudly, a big smile plastered on his face.

“Welcome to the Going Merry!”

You rested your hands on your hips and looked around.

First thing you noticed — the figurehead was patched.

You quirked a brow at him and smirked devilishly. “You tried to kill the sheep, Luffy?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Who else would’ve done that?”

He didn’t even try to deny it. He didn’t look ashamed, either.

Of course Luffy’s ship would be all patched up. It made so much sense. Very different from the pristine, soulless ships from the family. You looked curiously at what sat atop the main cabin on the opposite side — an orchard with actual tangerine trees? Other than the main sail, their Jolly Roger was proudly displayed from two other flags. One of them was up there at the crow’s nest. You’d have to climb there later to have a good look at the view.

Voices of the past whispered in your ears.

My ship will be huuuuge with, like, two masts and a big crew.

Did Luffy even remember saying that all those years ago?

You looked down at him again.

“This is great, Luffy.”

“Right?!” His smile got even bigger, if that was even possible. But Luffy didn’t really get what you meant, and you wouldn’t try to explain it, but you felt a speck of pride of him. That stupid boy got the ship with two masts he dreamed of. He was on the Grand Line with a respectable bounty over his head.

Maybe you were feeling a tad bit emotional.

He took the straw hat off, letting it hang from the thin string around his neck, and positioned himself by your side.

“Take the boots off!”

That wave of emotion went as quick as it came.

“What?”

“Take ‘em off! I’m taller than you now, I’m sayin’!”

“You’re not!”

“Then prove it!”

That irked you up.

You unzipped the black leather boots and put them aside, straightened your back the best way you could and stood by his side. Shoulder to shoulder.

“See?! I’m taller than—” You stomped on his foot. “Ouch!”

“Stop tip toeing!”

“Ugh, fine!” He finally planted both feet on the floor like a normal person.

The shoulders seemed to be at exactly the same height.

“I’m, like, a little bit taller than you.”

You huffed. “Of course not. I’d say I’m two centimeters taller than you.”

“Tsk. Is your eyesight this bad now, Four Eyes?” There was a spark of something weird in your chest upon hearing the silly nickname for the first time in years. “You’re not taller than me.”

“You’re not taller than me either!”

Luffy groaned and looked ahead.

“Zorooooooo!”

You had already sensed four other presences in the ship before Luffy said anything. Yet, a tiny part of you felt a bit anxious anyway.

A mop of green hair came upstairs slowly.

Tall guy. Muscular. White short-sleeved shirt, black pants and boots, a green haramaki around his waist. Three katanas resting on his hip. His mint green hair was very short, making an interesting contrast with his tanned skin. Three golden earrings on his left ear.

Roronoa Zoro. The Pirate Hunter from the East Blue. He was relatively famous, as far as you knew.

He froze mid-yawn when his puffy eyes landed on you.

You noticed how the hand that was absently resting over one of the katanas gripped around it.

Luffy pointed from himself to you frantically.

“Which of us is taller?!”

Green hair guy looked from him, to you, to him, to you, and then stared at you, a frown slowly taking place on his features.

“...I have a better question.”

“Which of us is taller?!” Luffy pressed.

He gulped. “You two are the same height.” Zoro tilted his head to the side. “Care to explain what’s going o—?”

He was interrupted by a loud gasp.

“Whose water bike is that?!”

Taptaptaptaptap; excited hops on the floorboards down there.

“Where? Where? I wanna see it!” A second voice — very high pitched and childish? There was a child on board? — followed by another loud gasp. “That is sooo cool!!”

“Luuuuffy, are you back?!” Someone was running upstairs. “D’you guys get a water bike—?”

Not that tall guy. Skinny. Brown overalls, a white sash around his hips, an olive plaid bandana over his hair and goggles atop it. Black curly hair, brown skin, and— why was his nose so long?

He froze when his eyes landed on you.

Luffy pointed from himself to you frantically.

“Usopp, which of us is taller?!”

Long nose guy guy looked from him, to you, to him, to you, and then stared at you.

You saw blood disappearing from his face.

He jumped to hide behind green hair guy.

“Zoro, who’s that?! What’s going on?!”

“Get off me.” Zoro groaned and elbowed his head. It made a tuk sound as if he had elbowed an empty coconut.

“Ouch!”

“C’mon, answer the question!” Luffy pressed again, sounding more impatient.

But there was the sound of someone coming upstairs once more — though, this time, it didn’t sound like shoes on wooden boards; it sounded like… hooves?

You found out why very quickly.

A… a tiny creature appeared — and for the first initial seconds, your brain was in shock, as you didn’t know what the fuck you were looking at.Short, round, brown hair covered all of its body; a pair of antlers sat atop its head, the left one was patched. It stood on two feet instead of four. Its eyes were huge and round, its nose was blue. It wore maroon shorts and a pink hat with a white X on it.

“Luffy, Luffy, what is that? Can we ride it—?”

You gasped quietly. “It talks.”

Luffy looked at you with a huge grin. “He talks!”

He froze when his eyes landed on you. His smile immediately vanished. The thing looked from Luffy, to you, to him, to you, and then stared at you.

The little creature — reindeer? — rushed to hide behind Zoro’s leg (“hide” is too strong of a word, as most of his body was still visible) while still eyeing you with distrust. Zoro didn’t mind pushing him away this time.

“W-W-Who is that?” He stuttered in that childish tone that kinda of tugged at your heart.

Luffy patted your back rather aggressively.

“This one’s my friend Wolfie!”

“Nice to meet y’all.” You greeted absently.

“Now which of us is taller?”

Long nose guy — Usopp? — tightened his eyes, not looking that scared anymore, and put his hands on his hips.

“The answer is obvious.” He puffed his chest like a rooster. “I’m taller than the both of you.”

“We ain’t asking!”

A quiet giggle.

The fourth presence was very skilled, as you hadn’t seen the moment she approached, even though you had already sensed her.

A tall woman. She wore a simple white shirt and jeans. She had feline blue eyes, tanned skin, black straight hair with bangs and—holy shit. That’s Nico Robin, isn’t it?! She’s in Luffy’s crew now?!

“I’d say you’re both the exact same height, captain.” Her voice was quiet and soothing… seductive, in a way. Despite her relaxed position, leaning on the ship’s railing, her eyes on you were astute and inquisitive.

Luffy groaned. “All of you are blind! I’m obviously the taller one here!”

Usopp stood beside Luffy, shoulder to shoulder. “Bow down to my superior height!”

Luffy hooked his arm around Usopp’s neck, strangling him. Long nose guy chocked. “Shut up!”

The little creature eyed you, and Luffy, and Usopp, and Zoro, and the ship’s railing, with maximum distrust. “W-W-What about the water b-bike…?”

Zoro wasn’t looking at you anymore. He had a slightly annoyed expression, and clearly wasn’t as relaxed as the other two, but it seems he wasn’t as interested in the situation anymore.

You thought everyone was acting way too casual over the fact that Nico Robin was on the ship. Nico Robin. The woman who’d been successfully running away from the government for decades. The woman that managed to run away from your family for years. Because yes, they’d been paid to hunt her before — and failed. She was very interested in you in the other hand, analyzing you quietly with a mysterious lip tightened smile.

Zoro scratched the back of his head. “Where are the other two?

Luffy let go of Usopp for a moment. “Dunno! I lost them!”

The swordsman groaned. “That fool’s making us waste time here.”

Nico Robin (freaking Nico Robin) eyed you again. “Thank you for bringing our captain back, miss…”

“Wolfie.” You told her while putting your boots back on.

“Why’d you give him a ride, though?” Usopp asked.

It seems Luffy was about to answer the question for you — but he didn’t have the time.

You felt two new presences.

Fast steps approaching.

You knew what was about to happen. You visualized it in your head before it unfolded, and your first instinct was to protect Luffy. But you noticed how he wasn’t caught off guard, he didn’t move to protect himself…

So you just stepped aside and watched when the two newcomers landed a flying kick right on his chest.

Luffy fell on his back.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!!” The guy yelled while stomping him. Repeatedly.

“Why’d you attract the Marines?!” The girl’s eyes were quite literally on fire. “What is your problem?!”

“You put Nami-swan in danger! She could’ve ended up getting hurt or—”

“—we dropped half the shopping bags because of you!! I had found such a cute purse but—”

“—captured!! If that had happened I’d never forgive you!!”

“—I left it behind because of your stupid ass!!”

Luffy didn’t react.

No one reacted, in fact.

The little thing was nervously peeking at the water bike over the railing. Nico Robin seemed amused. Usopp cleaned his goggles on his sash. It looked like Zoro had a headache.

So that was a common occurrence.

You muffled a giggle.

“M-My bad, y’all…” Luffy stuttered, still on the floor, with two huge bumps on his head. He didn’t sound sorry, though.

Robin behind you giggled quietly. “You guys are scaring the guest.”

“Huh? What guest?” The girl quickly found you.

Her short hair was as orange as the tangerines in the orchard. She wore a simple blue tank top and a yellow mini skirt; the Log Pose attached to her wrist could only mean she was the navigator. Her face, shoulders and chest were peppered by light freckles. She looked at you with round, curious eyes.

The guy turned around.

Tall. He wore an elegant double-chested black suit that made you wonder how the hell he was dealing with the heat. His light blonde hair was parted sideways, hiding most of the left side of his face; a cigarette was between his lips. His eyebrow, you noticed, had a strange pattOH MY FUCKING GOD.

It felt like your brain suffered an electric shock.

That’s Ichiji.

No— that’s impossible. What the hell would Ichiji be doing here? Impossible. But— But— that eyebrow. That eyebrow! That jawline! That nose! It’s him except for the—

He spotted you.

You saw the exact moment his blue eyes beamed.

The annoyed scowl immediately vanished. It melted in a wide smile that felt so odd to look at, because that was Ichiji’s face, and you’d never seen Ichiji smile like that.

He gasped.

“A gorgeous lady! Right before my eyes!”

You saw Zoro roll his eyes in the corner and scowl like he had slurped a sour lemon.

“Here goes the clown…”

It was very rare of you to be taken aback by anything — but when the blonde guy went down on one knee in front of you and held your hand, you were very taken aback.

You almost slapped him, in fact. Because that was Ichiji’s face. And you despised the idea of having that guy in a distance smaller than two meters, let alone let him touch you.

But that’s not Ichiji. Right?

“You’ve brightened my day with you presence, milady!” His tone had none of the aggressiveness from two seconds ago when he was beating Luffy to a pulp. He took the cigarette from his lips and planted a soft, quick kiss on the back of your hand. “Sanji, at your service! Enchanté!”

Sanji.

Your brain traced a couple of absurd theories. Does Ichiji have a secret life? Does he wear a blonde wig on his days off? What if he’s undercover, trying to take Luffy down?! But— why would Germa be interested in Luffy anyway? What if it’s not Ichiji? The stupid triplets all look alike after all. This could be Niji or Yonji or—

Or—

Wait a minute.

Ichiji. Niji. Yonji.

Sanji.

Ohhhhhhh.

You had an epiphany that almost made you fall on your back.

It was really hard to not let it show.

Judge had a son that died. They never talked about it. There weren’t monuments on his honor, either. But that was a fact. Everyone in Germa knew.

No. No fucking way.

You noticed that your silence was becoming increasingly awkward.

“Uh… I’m Wolfie.”

“You’re making her introduce herself for the third time,” Zoro whined.

“Shut the fuck up, I ain’t talking to you,” Sanji growled at the swordsman before turning to you again with that silly smile again. “Wolfie-chan! What a beautiful name!”

The way he could change behaviors this quick was a bit unsettling. No— everything he did was unsettling for some reason. You’d learned to hate that face for almost a decade now. The whole thing was weird.

Sanji got up. This time, it was the ginger girl’s turn to step closer, eyeing you with both curiosity and suspicion.

“Sooo… what brings you here?”

Luffy got up in a jump.

In a second, he rushed to your side and draped his arm around your shoulders. There was no sign of pain anymore despite the beat down he just received, being completely replaced by excitement.

“She’s my friend back from Foosha! We’ve known each other for aaaaages!”

Upon hearing this, all of them seemed to drop the suspicion they held up until that moment. They gathered closer. It was a bit overwhelming to have that much attention on you all at once — you were not used to being seen like that. At all. It’d been too long since you socialized for the last time — and yet, a stupid part of you felt happy (flustered?) that Luffy introduced you like that to his crew: as his friend, with excitement.

“Oh, thank God. I thought Luffy had brought us more trouble.” Ginger girl sighed in relief before opening a welcoming smile. “My name’s Nami. Nice to meet you! Where’s your skirt from?”

“I didn’t even know you had friends, Luffy.” Usopp remarked in a teasing tone.

“What’d you mean? ‘Course I had friends!”

“So… you’re from Luffy’s hometown?” Usopp ignored Luffy’s angry scowl and asked.

“Oh, no. I visited him every once in a while.”

“Yeah! She’s from the Ne—” you pinched Luffy’s back where they couldn’t see it. He chocked on his words. “From Loguetown!”

Nami put her hands on her hips. “It’s weird to know Luffy had normal childhood friends! I figured he was always around, like, psychopaths and criminals or something.”

Luffy giggled. “Oh! But Wolfie here’s an a—” you pinched Luffy’s back where they couldn’t see it. He chocked on his words. “Insect hunter!”

“Insect hunter?” The little creature —oh fuck that thing’s unsettling — was suddenly interested.

“A researcher.” You looked down at him. His huge round eyes were kind of adorable after you got used to it. “I catalog animalsand insects.” Which felt stupid to say, since it’d been years since you last cataloged a single ant.

“That’s cool.” He said under his breath with barely hidden amazement. His little voice, once again, tugged at your heartstrings… and maybe a little bit of guilt, too, because that was a big fat lie.

“Why the chain, though?” Zoro directed himself to you for the first time, eyeing the chain around your hips with suspicion.

“Sometimes my researches fight back.” You shrugged. He wasn’t convinced. You didn’t care.

Sanji gripped the fabric of his clothes where his heart was in a dramatic way. “She’s beautiful and smart! I’ve been blessed! Tell me— what’d you wanna eat?!”

The question was so out of the blue that you frowned. “Huh?”

Luffy looked at you. He had stepped aside, now resting his hands on his hips. “You stayin’ with us, right?”

They all looked at you in silence.

Oh fuck.

You planned to meet Luffy, but you knew you couldn’t stay with him for too long. That’d risk their safety.

And yet…

“Where are you guys sailing to?” You asked. Luffy beamed with excitement.

“To the island in the sky!!”

“To the what?”

Ginger girl let a tired sigh past her lips. “We’re sailing to Jaya, actually. We’re trying to find clues on how to get to the sky island.”

Before you could make any remark, she lifted her wrist to your eye level. The Log Pose’s pointer was turned upwards.

Oh. An island in the sky. Okay. Why the fuck not?

You hummed and held your chin. “...Jaya’s a day away from here, isn’t it? I guess I can—”

Luffy didn’t let you finish.

“Yahoooo!! Great! Great! Sanji, make us a lot of food!!”

The blonde pushed Usopp out of the way like he was a bop bag to stand in front of you.

“Wolfie-chan, what’s your favorite dish? I’ll cook anything you want!”

He’s the crew’s cook? There was something so uncanny in seeing Ichiji’s lookalike being the cook. You knew Ichiji (or any of the triplets) would never subject themselves to such an activity.

“Dunno. Anything spicy.”

Sanji clasped his hands together and twirled like a ballerina. He ended up kicking Usopp like he was a bop bag again (you weren’t sure if that was on accident).

“I’ll always admire a woman that can take some pepper!” He pointed two finger guns at you and winked. “Spicy eel it is! You’ll love it!”

“I want meat, too!” Luffy protested.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! You fools can take our supplies from the boat!”

He twirled away. Seriously twirled away. Jumped over the railing down the deck towards the cabin on the other side. Like a ballerina. Were those hearts floating around him?

Wow. Okay.

The three other guys walked over to pick the supplies from the boat down there while the little thing still eyed the water bike. Nico Robin had disappeared. Only ginger girl (Nami?) stayed by your side.

“Is he always like that?” You asked her quietly. She sighed again.

“Always.” She eyed you again. “Seriously though, where’s your skirt from?”

You looked down at it on instinct. It was the first time you wore this one — a plaid pleated mini skirt in red and black. It made the chain around your hips look really cool. The high neck top was pretty simple; sleeveless, considering how hot it was. It matched your boots. The headband over your hair was plaid, too, on the same colors of the skirt. Small silver hoop earrings completed the look.

It wasn’t that elaborate compared to the stuff you’d wear in other occasions, but you still spent some time picking this outfit.

Which made you feel weird about it for the first time.

You weren’t trying to look cute on purpose for Luffy of all people, right? No, of course not. You always put time and effort into your outfits. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Besides, Luffy was the last person on Earth to care about anyone’s clothes. He never did, and it wasn’t different this time.

Right?

Yeah, right.

“I got it in Tigerlily.” You explained while passing your hand over the skirt.

She widened her eyes slightly. “Isn’t it the island of gold?”

“Yeah.” There was no point in lying about this. They’d already seen the water bike, which was an obvious and inexcusable indicative of money.

It seems Nami had that same perception at that moment.

She opened a strange smile and clasped her hands together — and, at that moment, you thought she was scarily similar to Sanji.

“I can’t wait to know more about you, bestie!”

Luffy wasn’t paying attention to you.

Know what? That shouldn’t bother you. It’s normal, right? That was his crew. These were his friends. He had stuff to do. Why would he be stuck with you the entire time? Why’d you expect him to do so? That’d be senseless. Yeah.

But as you watched Luffy, Usopp and Chopper (the tiny creature) drape their arms over each other’s to sing and dance cancan, not batting an eye at you for a second, you felt… weird.

“We need a musician!” Luffy screamed at some point. “As fast as possible!”

“We really do. I can’t stand you people singing in my ear the whole day.” Zoro grumbled. “You sound like dying seagulls.”

“Quit complainin’ and come here, Zoro!” Usopp draped his arm around the swordsman’s shoulders forcefully. “Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest! Yo-ho-hoooo and a bottle of rum!”

“Get off.” He untangled himself and stumbled towards the men’s chambers. “I’m gonna take a nap.”

“Shocking news...” you heard Nami’s sarcastic voice from somewhere behind you.

The trio was unaffected.

“Drink and the devil had done for the rest! Yo-ho-hoooo and a bottle of rum!” They sang enthusiastically. Each of them on a different note.

Okay.

That was not exactly how you had imagined your meeting would go.

A part of you — the sane part — knew exactly why you were feeling this way. Back when you’d go to Dawn Island for your yearly vacations, you’d have Luffy’s exclusive attention. Ace was there too, of course, but you’d always been much closer to Luffy, and the considerable age gap made Ace not want to engage on your child play most of the time. It was just the two of you.

There were six other people to divide his attention now. Which, again, understandable.

Yet, a tiny part of you (the same part that got upset when he mentioned Shanks) mumbled quietly, I thought he’d be happier to see me. I thought he’d pay more attention to me.

The sane part knew that was childish.

The sane part, unfortunately, also knew why. You hated that part. You hated how you were always so aware of your own feelings.

Luffy was your only friend.

He’d always been. He was your motivation to strive strength, to keep going despite the hell you’d been through.

You were Luffy’s friend, but you weren’t his one and only.

You got up from the bench in a jump.

Stop stop stop stop. This isn’t the moment to think about this! You finally met Luffy again! It’s what you wanted, right?! Don’t be a bitch about it!

So you decided to address the elephant in the room to fill your mind.

The island was already but a tiny dot in the distance as the Going Merry sailed away from it. Your water bike was attached to it by ropes, following its direction. The skies were clear, the wind was working on your favor, the sea was calm. Robin stood on the crow’s nest up there. A beautiful day.

You walked towards the kitchen in silence.

Upon opening the door, you were immediately hit by a mix of delicious smells.

All the burners of the stove were being used. Multiple ingredients were organized in different bowls on the counter; faint white smoke filled the room.

Sanji had his back facing you as he stirred one of the pans. He had taken his jacket off, exposing the light blue shirt he wore underneath; the sleeves were rolled up his elbows. He did not notice you entering.

“Excuse me.”

He immediately turned around.

“Welcome, Wolfie-chan!”

The way he smiled so brightly was… uncanny. Ichiji never smiled like that. Or Niji. Or Yonji. Or Reiju.

You approached the table slowly. “Am I bothering you?”

“No, of course not! It’s a pleasure to see you here!” The shocking part is that it didn’t sound like he was lying. You sat down and rested your arms on the table.

You watched as Sanji chopped a big cabbage in swift movements. It was kind of impressive how thinly he was cutting the leaves. He was definitely skilled.

“Must be a pain in the ass to cook for Luffy, huh?” You remarked after a while. Sanji chuckled and looked at you from over his shoulder.

“It is! Dude’s stomach is a bottomless. I gotta worry about the fridge every night.” He focused on the board in front of him again. “It’s rewarding, though. He’ll swallow any recipe I try.”

You tapped your fingertips over the table slowly. “So… you’re a professional chef.”

Sanji sent you another wink from over his shoulder. “I sure am, milady!”

“Since when?”

“Oh, since I was a brat. I was raised in a restaurant, you see. The Baratie, have you heard of it?”

“On the East Blue?”

“Yep!”

“Yes, I’ve heard about it.” You’d dined there a few times, in fact, during your trips towards Dawn Island. The food was pretty good. You rested your cheek on your palm. Sanji’s back faced you. “You’re not from the East Blue, though. Right?”

Sanji didn’t stop cutting. “What makes you think that?”

“You have a little bit of an accent.” Your tone was controlled to sound as much unpretentious as possible. It had been convincing up until then. “Also… enchanté. It’s not something I’ve heard a lot in the East Blue.”

The blonde eyed you from over his shoulder again, looking surprised. He smiled. “Ooh, you have a good ear, Wolfie-chan!” Sanji turned around again. He took a bowl full of red peppers and placed them over the cutting board. “I never really got rid of my accent, right? But most people don’t notice it. You must have traveled a lot!”

“Kind of.” You tapped your fingertips a little bit more frantically. Almost there. “So… where are you from?”

“North Blue.” You froze. “But it’s been so long since I left, it doesn’t even feel like I’m—”

“You’re a Vinsmoke, aren’t you?”

Sanji gagged.

The knife slipped from his hand and fell inside the sink.

He stood there, his back facing you, for long moments. Frozen.

He turned around slowly.

His face was pale.

All the wonder he had shown… the smiles, the façade, all gone. Sanji was serious. Even a bit scared.

He leaned against the counter. You looked at each other in silence.

“How’d you know?” His voice was quiet. Completely different from how he’d been behaving before.

“You look exactly like them.” You matched his tone.

Sanji sighed. For the first time, his eyes avoided yours. He took a dishcloth nearby and cleaned his hands with it.

“...I don’t go by that name anymore, milady.”

Something inside of you relaxed.

“Well, thank God. If you did, I’d have to kill you.”

Sanji let a humorless chuckle past his lips. “And I’d die happily, knowing a beautiful lady took my last breath.” Gosh. He never loses an opportunity. “Are you… well acquainted with them?”

“Much more than I’d like to.” The way you rolled your eyes at the mere mention of the family was instinctive.

“Not a simple insect hunter, then.” He quirked one eyebrow with an inquisitive expression.

“The same way you’re not just a simple cook, either. We all have our baggage.” You shrugged.

Sanji measured you in silence for a while. You saw something new beneath the flirty mask he wore before; sagacity. That serious expression of his, the way he tightened his blue eyes… he looked scarily similar to his brothers like that, so much so that a shiver ran down your spine. Except there was no visible spite. Just curiosity.

“The mysteries of a woman will always fascinate me.” Yeah. He really doesn’t lose an opportunity. You fought to not roll your eyes. Sanji looked down at his hands, busying them with the dishcloth again. “If you were worried about my ties with my ex-family, you don’t need to be. I dislike them much more than you’ll ever do.”

He didn’t even know what you’d been through because of the Vinsmokes, but surprisingly, you didn’t doubt him. The tone of his voice… the way his gaze hardened… that was resentment.

You opened a lip tightened smile.

“You’re free from them, though. I’m happy for you.”

That was an odd thing to say.

On a normal day, you wouldn’t be so weirdly open or supportive towards a guy you knew an hour ago.

But… that resentment of his. It ran deep. Knowing Judge and his children, the sole way Germa worked… you could very well imagine what he’d been through. Why he’d rather be a cook in a newbie captain’s crew than claim his rightful place as a royal. Germa still was one of the most prestigious (and rich) lineages in the whole world, after all.

And yet, you knew none of that came close to freedom.

Maybe you felt a bit jealous of him. No… very jealous. Sanji had what you wanted the most.

But you also felt happy for him anyway.

Sanji opened a genuine smile. Yeah… none of the hell triplets would be able to smile like that.

That was a second before he melted into a puddle.

“Ohhhh! My heart is beating so fast!” He caressed the back of his head and tightened his eyes. The hearts were back. You wondered if they’d poison the food behind him. “What a beautiful smile you showed me! What a kind expression! I feel that I might explode—”

“The food’s gonna burn.”

“Ah.” He turned around in a jump and turned the stove off.

Out there, you noticed the trio had made up a new song.

“SA-N-JI! WE-WANT-FOOD!”

The blonde groaned and rushed to the door, opening it with a loud bam. “Shut up, you all! Food’s ready when it gets ready!!”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

So… Luffy’s crew consisted of Nico Robin, one of the most hunted people in the entire world, and the dead prince of Germa. He had beaten a Warlord and his organization. Oh, and apparently, they were trying to find a way to an island in the sky. All of that before he completed a single year since he’d set sail. Alright.

Why the fuck not?

When dinner got ready, the whole crew reunited in the kitchen — and they were so noisy that it made the place feel small.

You sat on the edge of the large bench; Luffy sat beside you without a second thought, continuously beating a knife and a fork against the table like a fool. Chopper on the opposite side imitated him, which was kind of cute. Sanji placed the pans filled with food over the table, but you noticed how he just bothered to actually make an elaborate plate for you, Nami and Robin.

He placed your plate in front of you last. Not before twirling like a ballerina. How he didn’t drop everything on the floor was a mystery.

“I present you: spicy eel with kimchi and rice! Of course, I made a version without pepper for dear Nami’s delicate taste buds!” He sent her a flying kiss across the table. Nami ignored it.

“Uh, I don’t like spicy food either...” Chopper eyed your ridiculously red plate with worry.

“The no spice version is on the yellow pan. Take it yourself.” Sanji said absently.

Luffy was vibrating beside you. “This looks sooo good, Sanji!! Lemme—”

Sanji whacked the top of his head before he could take a chunk of eel and eat it straight from the pan.

“Let Wolfie-chan eat first!!”

Heh. This brought back a memory.

You quickly took a bite before Luffy could be beaten up again. Sanji eyed your reaction with attention.

Your eyes widened slightly.

The eel was seasoned to perfection; it was soft, almost melting on your tongue.

“This is amazing.”

Sanji blushed and twirled around the table like a spinning top babbling stuff like ooooooooooh she likes my food I knew it I can die in peace tonight whaaaaaaaaat being thoroughly ignored by everyone. The rest of the crew attacked the pans. Luffy ate like an animal. He didn’t even take a second to breathe. You eyed the way Chopper balanced the spoon in his hoof with curiosity. He was very skilled for a creature without an opposable thumb. Would he let me sketch him if I asked? Shit— I don’t have a sketchbook with me.

“Thish ish amashing, Sanchi!” He exclaimed with his mouth full of food.

“Kimchi without pepper looks so boring,” Usopp beside him remarked. “It’s the pepper that makes the thing come to life!”

“First time I agree with you on something.” Sanji stopped spinning for a moment to say that. “Except for Nami-swan!! She can like anything!! She’s always right!!”

“Can you stop don juaning for a second? You make my stomach turn.” Zoro groaned.

“Yeah, vomit it all right now! Who said you were allowed to eat my food anyway?!” Sanji groaned back.

“Huhh?? Whatcha say, shitty cook?!”

“Don’t argue on top of me!” Nami groaned this time — and both of them got really calm after her reprimand.

There was a bottle of hot sauce sitting on the table. You took it and poured over your plate, not really paying attention to it. Chopper has canines? Reindeer don’t have canines. So he’s not a herbivore? Ohhh. His dental arch looks human. Oooohh. What is up with him? I really really really want to study this thing—

Usopp eyed your plate with horror.

You took a bite and eyed him back while munching. “What?”

“Are your taste buds made of steel?”

The spark of something evil and annoying lightened inside of you. Like many other things, it had been dormant.

“It’s not that bad.” You said nonchalantly.

“Huh, I doubt it.”

“No, seriously. It’s not that bad. Sanji didn’t go that hard with the pepper on my plate.” You took a bunch of eel and kimchi on your fork and offered him. “Take a bite.”

You batted your lashes innocently.

To your delight, Usopp was kind of stupid.

He shrugged happily and bit the fork.

A second later, he was coughing and spitting fire.

Luffy cackled with his mouth full, chocked and almost died. Nami punched Usopp’s face away (you’re gonna burn my hair!!), Chopper panicked (a doctor!! He needs a doctor!!), Robin giggled, Zoro quirked one eyebrow, Sanji was too focused on watching Robin smile to care.

The green haired swordsman huffed and crossed his arms. “Can’t take a little bit of pepper, Usopp?”

Long nose guy had his tongue out, smoke coming from his mouth and ears, eyed him angrily. “T-That isn’t spicy! It’s p-p-poison!”

You saw the exact moment the evil spirit possessed Nami too.

She side eyed Zoro with a smirk.

“I bet fifty grand that you can’t take a bite of that plate without drinking water.”

Zoro eyed her back, the corners of his mouth turned downwards. “I ain’t falling for that.”

“Coooooward,” Nami teased. Zoro was unaffected.

“Coooooward,” Usopp teased. Zoro was mildly affected.

“Cooooooward,” Luffy teased. Zoro was very affected.

“Uh, I think Zoro is very brave,” Chopper said timidly.

“Pussy,” Sanji teased.

Zoro was fuming.

He leaned over the table towards you, took a huge piece of your eel and ate it.

Zoro settled back in his place and crossed his arms, chewing.

His face got red.

Scarlet red.

He chewed slower. Sweat covered his forehead.

Nami giggled.

“Give up yet?”

Zoro shook his head. It seems he was unable to speak.

Usopp swayed a cup filled with water in front of his face. “Oooh, this water is so cold right now…”

Zoro avoided eye contact with the cup.

Luffy cackled so bad that he had to hold his stomach. “Zoro’s crying!!”

Green haired guy sent him a deadly glance, but his eyes were in fact teary. Robin giggled.

“I never thought I’d see you cry, Mr. Swordsman. What a rare sight.”

If Zoro could talk, you feel that he would’ve said even you?! Sanji was also giggling devilishly, which worsened the situation.

“Quick, Usopp, grab a camera! We need to capture this fool’s face!”

Zoro got up in a jump with bloodshot eyes and pointed at him accusingly. “If you dare doing that I’ll—”

The moment he opened his mouth, Nami splashed water in it. He went tssssss like piping hot steel being poured in water.

“Yay! I won!” She fisted the air. “You owe me fifty thousand now!”

Zoro was shocked.

“This ain’t right! You cheated!”

They started arguing furiously. Since Zoro took most of your eel, you took a forkful from Luffy’s plate when he wasn’t looking. Luffy looked down at his plate after a while and frowned. “Usopp, why’d you take my food?!”

“The hell? I didn’t do anything!”

“Spit it out! Spit it out!”

Luffy stretched his arms across the table and strangled him. Chopper yelled like a goat. Robin filled her plate with more rice happily. Sanji swayed around her babbling stuff like ooooohhh Robin-chwan likes my food I can die in peace today oh my gooooooooood while being thoroughly ignored by her. Zoro and Nami still argued something about a debt and abusive taxes.

You finished eating in peace.

They were loud. And messy. But the whole atmosphere was so oddly familiar. Reminded you of evenings on Mt. Colubo, of Ace and Dadan cussing at each other, Magura and Dogura trying to ease the situation, Luffy eating most of the food like an animal, the other bandits laughing and drinking sake until they’d pass out.

It made so much sense.

Luffy attracted exactly what he wanted.

And what he attracted, you remarked quietly to yourself, is what made you feel more at home… even if he didn’t know it.

You couldn’t sleep. Which wasn’t surprising at all. When was the last time you actually laid down and slept? Excluding the times when grandfather put you in a coma… never.

You were taught to have a light sleep from birth. One of your earliest memories was of Landon giving your toes electric shocks whenever your sleep got too deep… you were always on high alert. So even though the possibility of Nami attacking you (and succeeding) was close to zero, you still couldn’t relax. Nico Robin was relatively strong. As far as you knew, she was a devil fruit user. The paranoid part of your brain traced courses of action if she decided to attack you. This paranoid part had traced counter attacks for each of the crew members with the little info you had on them. Created the worst possible scenarios.

Yeah. You couldn’t sleep.

And you remembered that you hadn’t smoked since… what? Six in the morning?

That must be why I’m shaking. Why I can’t relax.

Luffy made you forget to smoke. Wow.

You got off the hammock quietly.

The girls’ room was very well organized and clean (opposite to the men’s room… you had peeked at it. It looked like the aftermath of a war zone). Robin and Nami shared a bunk bed, but the room had space for an extra hammock that hung from a trapdoor on the ceiling. It even had a mini bar. The place looked like the chambers of a noble, in fact, which spiked your curiosity to find out how Luffy got his hands on it.

Not bothering to put your boots on, you tiptoed out of the room carrying nothing but a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

You were greeted by pitch black.

As usual, most of the ship’s lamps were turned off for safety. There wasn’t much to see beyond the deck. It was a new moon night… although there were no clouds in the sky, she couldn’t provide any light. To look around meant nothing. It wasn’t possible to distinguish what was sky and what was sea. Even so, the waters sounded calm. The wind blew on the sails’ favor.

You always thought nights like these were relaxing. Nothing but the sound of the waters calmly touching the hull… nothing clear to focus on. It helped turn your turbulent mind off.

Like the fact that you knew your tiny Den Den Mushi would ring eventually. You knew you’d have to report back to the main house. You knew you’d have to go back.

That was one of the reasons why you were nervous, restless. Turbulent. You went after Luffy, you actually found him, but what was the point in the end if you’d have to go back? You weren’t free. You weren’t strong enough, not yet. You didn’t have the forces to push your family away… and they could represent Luffy and his crew danger.

None of them were strong enough to face your family.

The coyote twins… maybe could be easy to win. Urso and Saqr would be a tough challenge, but not invincible. Ariadne was out of question.

But Crowley?

Even worse… grandfather?

You knew what Scarpia Virgus would do if he found out what you were doing. He wouldn’t have mercy. Grandfather had taken you as his pupil; you represented him in a way, and to break the promise (the family rule) would put him to shame. He would not forgive you.

No one in the crew stood a chance. Luffy got much stronger than last time you saw him; he had defeated Crocodile, after all, which was a huge achievement on its own. From what you could sense, Zoro was fairly strong as well, Sanji being a close third. But that didn’t compare to the type of strength that stood on the other side of the Red Line, and that included your family.

You were just being selfish. Running after Luffy on the first opportunity before you could complete your half of the promise.

I’ll get stronger, too. I’ll work hard, okay? So no one will stand in my way.

There was a whole army of people still standing in your way.

You sighed tiredly and put a cigarette between your lips. Shut up, mind. Stop talking. Smoke the damn cigarette and go to sleep.

A loud whistle.

Your head whipped up.

What you saw made your mind simultaneously forget about everything else and work at its full capacity.

Luffy was up there at the crow’s nest, waving at you. Smiling.

Was it embarrassing how you immediately smiled back? Maybe.

You climbed the mast in a heartbeat.

When you got there, he was already sitting with his legs crossed. There was a copper spyglass beside him, a basket with apples and an oil lamp, which was the only reason why you could see him at all. The lamp painted his figure in faint orange shades. He munched one apple peacefully.

A wave of nervousness hit you for some fucking reason. It was the first moment when you were truly alone with Luffy the whole day… the first time in three years. Why’d that make you feel funny inside?

“Your sleep is still pretty shitty, huh?” Luffy remarked.

You chuckled quietly. You never slept that well back then, either.

As it was still a moonless night, there wasn’t much to see up from the crow’s nest. You looked at the flag waving proudly from the mast.

“Who painted the Jolly Roger?” you asked as you lit the cigarette and leaned on the railing.

“Usopp. He paints almost as well as you.” Luffy took one more bite and quirked one eyebrow. “Since when do you smoke?”

You took a puff. “It’s been a while.”

Luffy raised his hand towards you. It took three seconds to understand he was asking for the cigarette.

“Do you smoke?”

“Nah, but I want to try it.”

You shrugged and gave him.

Half a second after he took a puff of it, Luffy started coughing his lungs out. You laughed.

“Argh! T-This one’s even worse then Sanji’s!” He offered the cigarette back. “I don’t know why you people do it!”

“That’s kinda the point.” You were about to put the cigarette back between your lips but hesitated. Huh. He put his lips here. That’s like an indirect kiAAAAAAAH SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. You shook your head and took another puff, ignoring your mind.

Luffy took one more bite of his apple. Completely clueless. As usual.

“So…” you asked after blowing smoke. “How’d you get this ship?”

Luffy swallowed. “Usopp’s girlfriend gave it to us.”

From all the people in the crew, he has a girlfriend? Oookay.

This made you pause.

You had never thought for a single moment in your life that Luffy might be dating someone.

But he might. Right?

It’d been three years, after all. You weren’t kids anymore. What if… hm… he met someone?

That’d be weird. But also totally possible.

What’s the problem if he dates someone? It’s none of your business. It doesn’t change anything in your friendship anyway.

You blew more smoke. “A ship like this is pretty expensive. She’s either a very kind soul or she really loves Usopp.”

Luffy shrugged. “Both, I guess. Pretty girl. She’s kinda low energy, though. Boring as hell. Poor thing.” You choked and started coughing your lungs out. Luffy frowned. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah.” You had to turn away for a second.

He called her “pretty girl”.

Never once in your life had you heard Luffy compliment a girl’s appearance.

You felt your entire face and neck burn. What the hell?! I never cared about any of that. He never cared about any of that, either. Or at least I thought so!

This made you feel painfully aware of your own appearance. Shit, you didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror before leaving the room. Do I look like a mess right now? Probably, as the wind threw your hair in all directions. Oh shit— Luffy can totally see under my skirt from this position!! Wait— stop freaking out, dumbass, you’re wearing safety shorts. You always wear safety shorts. Besides, you’ve literally showered with Luffy before, right? Remember that time at the river? Yeah, yeah, right, but— but we were nine back then! We’re not nine anymore!

You plopped down beside him and kept your legs close to your chest.

Luffy was clueless. As usual.

He finished that apple and took another one. For a while, silence reigned. The ocean still sung, the wind pushing the sails hummed… it would be relaxing if you weren’t on the verge of exploding.

You eyed the top of his hat. It had three visible lines now which were sewn back in place.

“What happened to your hat?”

Luffy looked up as if he’d be able to see it. “A guy teared it, but Nami sewed it back.”

Short explanations as usual. If a guy teared his precious hat, you could imagine how furious Luffy must’ve gotten… how serious the situation must’ve been. But opposite to Ace, Luffy was an awful storyteller. He didn’t have the patience to explain anything and he almost never felt like it.

Oh.

That put a sad perspective in front of you.

You were losing huge chunks of Luffy’s life now… things you wouldn’t get to experience. Things he wouldn’t tell you, simply because he didn’t feel like it. Things were pretty stalled back in Goa… he didn’t have much to tell you whenever you visited anyway — and he never even opened up about the important stuff, like how the grandfather he barely ever mentioned was a fucking legend known world-wide.

It… it wasn’t just you and him anymore. There were plenty of other people in his orbit now.

That shouldn’t make you feel sad, but it did.

You blew more smoke and decided to change topics. Something to lift your spirits.

“I met Ace last year.”

Luffy’s eyes gleamed. “Really?! I met him, too!”

The mere mention of his name made both of you get excited. “Already? That’s great! When did you guys meet?”

“In Alabasta!”

You frowned. “The hell he was doing in Alabasta?”

“Ah, something about hunting some guy. Whatever.” Luffy took his hat off, exposing a mess of black hair. The wind just made it messier. “He gave me this!”

Luffy pulled the red hatband slightly to expose a small piece of white paper.

“A Vivre Card…” your eyes widened.

“A what?”

“Vivre Card. It’s a locating device. Points to the location of its owner wherever they are in the world.”

“Ooooh.” He chuckled. “I thought Ace was just a weirdo for giving me a blank piece of paper. Now it makes sense!”

You chuckled, too, as he put the hat back on his head. “He said we should all meet again and beat you up.”

“As if you’d get to beat me up!” Luffy set the apple aside and playfully punched the air near your arm repeatedly as if you were a punching bag. “I’ll kick both of your asses!”

“Oh, please. Don’t make me laugh.” You took the last puff of the cigarette, flicked it away into the ocean and quirked one eyebrow up jokingly. Luffy stuck his tongue out.

Then, he spotted something on your upper arm.

“Hey, you’re full of scars now, huh?”

You froze.

These scars didn’t bother you… not exactly. It’s not like you didn’t have some three years ago. But at that moment… when you were feeling so stupidly self-aware, you caught yourself suddenly wishing you were wearing a long sleeved shirt.

...Scars aren’t typically considered pretty. Or desirable.

Luffy scooted closer. He brought the oil lamp closer to you both, too, and squinted his eyes.

That made your stomach turn.

“How’d you get this one?”

He touched a particular long scar on your upper arm with his index finger. As stupid as it was, the spot he touched heated up.

You looked down at it.

It wasn’t a scar inflicted by grandfather. His cuts were always super clean and straight. So this one was… hm…

“...A guy from Whisky Peak, I guess.” You explained quietly. “He fought with whips.”

“Oooh. You been to Whisky Peak?”

A few times, in fact. Many people were willing to commission the death of some mercenaries. “Yeah.”

Luffy hummed and pointed at another scar; this one was near your shoulder. Another spot of heat. “What about this one?”

This scar was irregular, very smooth. Burn scar. You remembered that one very well, unfortunately. “Training.”

Luffy was unfazed. He looked unfazed, at least.

He pointed to another scar. “This one?”

“Training.”

“This one?”

“Training.”

“This one?”

“...I don’t remember.”

“This?”

“This… this was a gunshot, I guess.”

He held your wrist and brought your hand close to his face.

Luffy wasn’t exactly delicate, but he wasn’t brute either. His hand was calloused, just like yours; his knuckles were clearer than his skin tone, the signs of years and years of punching. He had tiny scars all over them. Your hands were very similar, in a way.

“This one?”

The one he pointed at went all the way from the side of your palm to your forearm. Very irregular. Stork made that one.

“He fought with chainsaws.”

You didn’t exactly like what was going on. You never talked about your commissions with Luffy before. You’d rather keep him apart from work — not because you were ashamed of it, but because Luffy was the good part of your life… work wasn’t. You didn’t want to mix both.

Luffy looked at that scar for a while.

He opened a small smile.

“You’re so cool, Wolfie.”

You were taken aback.

“W-What?”

“Yeah! And you’ve already been to all of these places. Traveling like this now ain’t even a big deal for you, right?”

You crossed your arms protectively.

“It is a big deal for me.”

“How so? You’ve been everywhere!”

“Because we’re doing it together now. So it’s a big deal for me.”

Luffy was taken aback.

Your brain panicked.

“I mean— because I just travel for work, right? And it’s always super boring. You guys— you guys are fun to be around. That’s what I meant.” You avoided his gaze.

For two seconds, there was silence.

He giggled.

“I’m happy that we’re together, too.”

You looked at him again.

Luffy. It almost felt like a mirage to see him sitting by your side, smiling like that, after three years of loneliness. Smiling the way he always did, even if he looked different now. Even if his straw hat was more battered, his childish features were gone, his shoulders were broader, he was a bit taller (still shorter than me! I don’t care what anyone says!!). That smile was the same. The warmth that radiated off it was the same.

And yes, many things had changed. You had changed; you didn’t carry sketchbooks with you anymore, you didn’t paint at any given opportunity; you were an active smoker, more paranoid than you’d ever been, harsher than ever. You weren’t that girl who was passionate about nature anymore. You weren’t at the bottom of the food chain within your family, either.

And Luffy was different. He had a crew now, and despite the antics you had witnessed, these people chose to sail under his leadership on their free will. They respected Luffy as a captain. Luffy wasn’t a small boy with big dreams from a god forsaken corner of the world; he was chasing after his dreams, succeeding, and his power and pride grew accordingly. He had a grit that wasn’t this apparent back then. Yes, he had many more people in his orbit now.

Yet, looking at that smile — a smile you knew so damn well —, you realized that deep down, Luffy hadn’t changed. His core was the same. The circumstances changed, not him.

And him, at his core, was your friend despite everything.

This filled your heart with warmth.

This smile brightened up the moonless night as if he was the sun himself.

You chuckled and pushed his shoulder jokingly.

“You getting emotional, honey?”

“I ain’t the one who got all worked up for being shorty.”

“I’m not shorter than you.”

“Shut up, you are!”

“I freaking ain’t!”

“What a sore loser, Four Eyes!”

“Swear to God— I’m gonna drop you in the ocean.”

“You don’t have the guts.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Yeah, bring it, looooser!”

“Will you two SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY?!”

Both of you froze.

You got up and looked down.

Nami, with her hair disheveled, puffy face and pajamas, looked up at you two with fire in her eyes.

“Sorry, ma’am.” You said in unison.

Nami tsked. “Can’t even get a good night’s sleep, for fuck’s sake!” She kept mumbling inside the bedroom.

You looked at each other in silence.

It took two seconds for an uncontrollable giggle fit hit you both — and another minute for Nami to threaten your lives again.

A/N: FINALLY SOME ACTUAL FLUFF!!!

Usually I avoid giving reader oc's a specific height, but them being the same height just sound right. Also same height couples are cute. Isn't it funny how a man being 1,72m is considered short, but if a girl is 1,72m she's like, runway model type of tall? 😭

I don't know if spicy eel is a real dish. I took it from stardew valley 😭

I'm gonna be wattpad-y again and tell you this is the outfit I was describing lolll except there's no beret 🤓☝️

I really wanted to focus on the crew with this chapter. It was really stressful to write them, as I don't want anyone to seem too ooc </3 we'll have more time for interactions later. Also, I feel that Zoro is so easy to ragebait lolol

NAMI MY GINGER QUEEN SHOULD BE FRECKLED!! I'LL DIE ON THIS HILL!!!

The water bike is literally a jet ski. I'm not even gonna try to describe it in detail, it's just a jet ski 😭

ANYWAYS!! Again, thank you so much for your patience and support! 😭 next chapter, they're heading to Skypiea!! Is everything gonna go okay?? I DON'T KNOW!!

See you <3

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 4

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

You didn’t sleep the first night, which already felt like a bad omen.

People that work in emergency have a unique talent: the ability to sleep anywhere. You’d slept on the floor. You’d slept sitting in your car. You’d slept standing in a packed train once. You’d slept that time in a bar, too, with loud music and loud people, and you hadn’t even drank anything. You’d slept in the shower. You’d slept on the toilet once. In short — it really was an ability you had mastered.

And yet, when you laid in that comfy bed with the best smelling sheets and pillow you’d ever seen (note to self: check what softener brand they use), you could not shut your eyes at all.

There was way too much to digest and your spiritual digestive system seemed to have contracted a really bad infection. Fuck, you had a metaphorical tummy ache at the moment. Deep down in some hidden corner of your mind, there was a group of denialist neurons questioning everything. There is no such thing as sorcery or curses or cursed energy or techniques. Everyone is lying to you. This is a huge fucking prank. Your suffering is being livestreamed right now and thousands of people are laughing maniacally in the chat.

But you’d seen enough.

Unfortunately, you had physical proof that it was all very much real — and perhaps that made it all worse. Made the fear worse. Because Gojo wasn’t home.

He stayed until a little after nine, then left with a poor tired Ijichi. He still had to work, apparently. You tried not to freak out. You were still trying not to freak out, imagining the most horrible scenarios — another group of curse users invading the house, hurting Fushiguro and Mayu, kidnapping you again before Gojo could come—

You rolled on the bed again. The silver bracelet was warm against your skin. You didn’t dare to take it off. Sure, Gojo had shown the house’s protections (how was it called? Curtain?), explained that it’d burn intruders alive, but what if it failed? What if it wasn’t enough? What if he couldn’t come back in time—?

You sat on the bed.

That’s it. I’m not sleeping tonight.

You had taken a 24 hour shift on your mother’s death anniversary to not think too much about it. And now, you would clean this fucking bedroom to not think about the shitshow that your life became.

You let Mayu take the empty room (the better, the bigger) upstairs because you felt bad about involving her in this whole situation. She didn’t complain, obviously (she loved it), which meant you took the guest bedroom downstairs that had been used to store stuff. It was packed with your boxes and theirs. Gojo said that you could take everything to the basement (of fucking course this house had a basement), but you decided to do it the next day because you thought you’d be able to sleep at that moment.

Well, not anymore.

The house was dark and dead silent. The living room was just around the corner; next to your bedroom, the guest bathroom, and the door to the basement at the end of the corridor. You tried your best to not make much noise, turned the lights of the corridor on and began to work. Old boxes, bags, carriers — everything to the basement. Downstairs, upstairs, carrying weight. Great cardio. Great way to not think about anything. Great great great.

It was still hot, even at night. After a while, you tiptoed to the kitchen to take a cup of water.

The tatami room’s lights were on. 

You found Mayu laying there. Sprawled on the floor as if she’d been shot.

That took you back to reality very quick. You could — and you did — run away from your own mind a lot. You could overwork yourself to pretend everything was alright. But you couldn’t run from Mayu. You’d never run from her.

You laid on your back as well, mimicking her position.

It was silent for some moments.

“It’s nice here.” She finally said in a quiet, raspy voice.

“Uh-Hum.”

Silence. The breeze played with the trees out there. The way the walls and branches blocked the street view was a bit eerie; made it feel like you were in an isolated bubble, a parallel dimension, not a busy metropolis.

“Was the tatami room from the old house like this, too?”

Of course she was thinking about it, the way you were thinking about it. Dad said he’d like to bring her back someday, the same way you talked about coming back to mom. He went as far as promising to come back… but that was before he got sick.

“Smaller. And less fancy.” Your voice was raspy, too. “But yeah. Similar.”

Silence.

“How was grandmother’s house?”

You gulped.

She had never asked you this before.

Dad didn’t talk about grandmother. Mom didn’t talk about grandmother. You didn’t talk about grandmother. This made you realize she knew even less than you.

“It was huge.” Your memories came like yellowed pictures. “Very traditional. Had a central atrium and all. With a koi pond.”

“Bigger than this one?”

“Yeah.” You tightened your eyes slightly. “I remember thinking it was cool how everyone wore kimonos there. Made me feel like I was inside a period drama.”

Masamichi Yaga’s voice echoed in the back of your mind. Hosokawa is a sorcerer family.

The Hosokawa Family is kinda important, you know? Big traditional household.

You’d been there. Not many times as far as you remembered — but you’d been there. Even if you were just a kid, how didn’t you notice something strange was going on? Something supernatural?

“Sounds pretty cool.” Mayu said.

“Oh, it wasn’t. Not at all.” You waved your hand dismissively, an annoyed frown creeping up your features. “They didn’t let me do anything. All that space, but I couldn’t run or play or even talk. And grandmother—” You rolled your eyes on instinct. “—she was a witch. I get why mom almost never took me there. I wouldn’t let my child around someone like her, either.”

You didn’t let Mayu around her.

It felt like a quiet, unintentional, embarrassing confession. 

Silence.

“What did she want with you?” There. That’s where she was trying to get all along. You already knew it. “Does she have anything to do with your… case?”

You hesitated.

You didn’t want to run from Mayu. You didn’t want to lie. But you hadn’t understood properly everything that had happened; it was too fresh, too confusing. Mayu had to understand that she was in danger indeed, so she wouldn’t act recklessly. But at the same time… she didn’t have to know the entirety of it. At least, not yet.

You’d explain the whole thing some time. But not now.

So you decided to summarize the truth.

“She doesn’t have anything to do with it.” The bitterness in your voice was surprising even to you. “But she wanted to offer help.” You chuckled dryly. “Can you believe that?”

“And d’you tell her to fuck off?” 

“Not with these exact words, but yeah.”

Mayu gulped. “You should have. You should’ve told her to fuck off. With these exact words.”

Both of you giggled, even though there wasn’t anything funny about it. 

“You’re…” Mayu turned her head to look at you for the first time. “You really aren’t going to tell me what’s going on?”

You sighed and looked at her. “I can’t, Mayu. What Gojo-san said… he’s right. The whole thing is under secrecy. The less you know, the better.”

“You know how hard it is to believe that?”

“I know. Not even I get what’s going on. But it’s the truth.” You pointed around with your index finger. “Why else do you think I’d accept to leave our apartment like that?”

She pouted thoughtfully and frowned. “You’re not, like… running from a loan shark or anything, right?”

“No.” You chuckled. “‘Course not.”

Mayu looked at the ceiling again. So did you.

Silence.

“I’m sorry for going to the festival behind your back.” Her voice was quiet. Bashful. You sighed.

“You know I don’t mind you going places, Mayu. It’s not like I don’t expect you to do things people your age do. I just don’t want you to be stupid about it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you in front of strangers.” It was your turn to apologize. “Next time you do dumb shit and I find out, I’ll yell at you in private.”

Mayu chuckled and quirked her eyebrow at you. “Are they really strangers, though?”

You looked at her again. “Yes. What do you mean?”

“You know… you and Blindfold-san…” she trailed off, tightening her eyes.

“Gosh, no.” You huffed and waved your hand dismissively once more. “I barely know the guy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Mayu. Why do you think I’m lying to you?”

“I don’t think you’re lying. It’s just that it looks like you already know each other.”

It was your turn to frown. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Silence. “It’d be a level up from Ren, you know.”

You crossed your arms. “Ren’s not ugly.”

“I’m not saying he’s ugly. It’s just that it’d go from an 8 to a 10.”

A ten, she said. You took Mayu’s opinion on men’s appearances very seriously, as she was not attracted to them. If she said someone was “a ten”, it usually was true.

A ten. 

His stupid bright blue eyes. His infuriating dimples and smirk and stupid white hair—

You shook your head and grimaced as if you’d slurped a very sour lemon. Stop right there!

“What are you even talking about?” You groaned defensively. “I already said that I don’t even know the guy. Don’t make it awkward for me.”

“Okaaay. My bad.” Silence. A lighter one, this time. More comfortable. Easier. “Can I have my phone back?”

“Nope.”

“Uuugh.”

Male around 40 years old. Civil construction worker. Fell from a height of approximately 4 meters. Unconscious. Brought in by EMS, wearing a cervical collar on a spinal board. Labored breathing. Scalp laceration. Glasgow coma scale: 8.

Usually, it wouldn’t be you to take the lead. You’d assist. But there was a storm outside, the ER was in chaos, and Tanaka-san — head physician, chief of your team — was already busy with another case.

This man couldn’t wait for him.

There wasn’t time to question your abilities, to be nervous, to hesitate. You’d seen Tanaka-san, other physicians and professors doing this a thousand times; you’d assisted a thousand times. You knew what to do. 

“BP 90/60, HR 120, Sat 89%, still unresponsive,” the paramedic pushing the stretchers shouted.

You stepped forward before the mere possibility of fear appeared. 

“I’ll take the lead. Full trauma protocol. Let’s go— ABCDE.”

He was quickly led into the red zone. Nurses and technicians awaited you. They looked up to you for orders, for orientation. 

It was like you put your brain in full autopilot mode. No time for emotions. No time, no time.

Lead. Lead. You are the leader. This man will die if you fail. He is dying, quickly.

“Keep his neck neutral. Don’t let go.” You ordered the nurse at the head of the bed before leaning over the patient. “Sir, can you hear me?”

He did not respond.

“He needs to be intubated immediately. Prep the kit — 8.0 tube, suction, laryngoscope with a Mac 3 blade.”

The team scrambled quickly, trained to exhaustion, sharpened like a blade — just like you. Your eyes passed by them for recognition; that new nurse you didn’t remember the name. Another nurse you weren’t familiar with. Watanabe-san, Maeda-san — the experienced technicians were assisting Tanaka at that moment. Fuck, it was just you and the newbies to stabilize the situation.

You are the leader. They need to trust you. They need confidence.

Everyone surrounded the bed. Etomidate and succinylcholine were injected quickly. You took the laryngoscope while the assistant kept the patient’s head still.

You allowed yourself a shallow breath within the mask before proceeding.

Blade in. It cut his skin with ease. Tongue swept. Epiglottis visible. There — vocal cords.

The tube slid in smoothly.

“Tube in at 22. Inflate cuff. Bag him.” Your voice came calm but firm. CO2 detected. Bilateral breath sounds confirmed. “Airway secured.”

A: done.

Clear breath sounds. Equal expansion. No immediate signs of pneumothorax. Saturation rose.

“Lungs are clear. Keep ventilating.”

B: done.

His pulse was rapid and thready. You did not take your eyes off the patient. “Get two large-bore IVs. Let’s start with a liter of warm saline. Crossmatch for blood. Someone draw labs — gas, CBC, coags, electrolytes.”

The new nurse pressed gauze against the scalp wound; it looked shallow, not life-threatening. No other visible bleeding anywhere in his body. 

C: done.

You opened his eyelids with your index finger and thumb; his pupils reacted to the light of the small lantern. Yet, no movement on any limb. This made your stomach feel cold with apprehension. No no no no. No time for apprehension.

The monitor beeped with stability — but you didn’t know for how long.

“Possible spinal fracture injury. Keep him fully immobilized.”

D: done.

You watched as a nurse cut his working uniform with ease, careful to not move his spine a centimeter. There was a small sting in your heart when you spotted a tattoo on his forearm: 2010-09-02 ♡ Sana. Was it his daughter’s birthday? Was it his wife and their wedding date? You had no idea. You didn’t really want to think too hard about it, not at that moment.

No other major injuries found.

E: done.

You and the rest of the team stayed, focused on keeping him stable, on watching any change in his vitals. You stayed until you became aware that his ICU bed was being prepped and the CT scan was successfully requested; until a resident from neurosurgery arrived. Only then did you finally step back.

The autopilot switch was off.

You let yourself breathe. You let yourself notice how hot it was, unsure if it was due to the actual weather or your nerves. You got rid of the stained gloves. No movement. Sana’s father — or husband — could’ve had brain damage. Or quadriplegia. Or he could still die.

You did what you could, what you were trained to do; you knew that. And yet, a part of you — the part what awakened the moment you discovered that some people in this world could heal with their bare hands — asked quietly:

What’s the point?

Tanaka-san arrived after a few moments. He, too, just got off his own patient. The middle-aged man patted your shoulder softly and nodded.

“Good job, Mori-san.” 

That made you feel a bit better. A bit proud of yourself, maybe. If this had happened a week ago, you would be beaming. Tanaka wasn’t one to give anyone compliments. If he did, it was earned.

But your world, your knowledge of reality itself, had shifted drastically four days ago. Ieiri Shoko could’ve saved that man on the spot. What she said about “reverse cursed energy” (whatever the fuck that meant) only working on sorcerers — it didn’t make anything easier to deal with. Didn’t make one of the most important parts of your life, medicine, feel any less useless.

So you had to stand in the back of the room and hear that voice echo inside your head.

What’s the point?

The first days are shit, as expected.

You’re a complete, constant, utter mess of anxiety and fear despite Gojo’s calm confidence that you’re gonna be fiiiine, nothing’s gonna happen to you. It was hard to believe him when he was barely home at all. He texted all the time — he’s insufferable — but you go full days without seeing him. 

You go full days without seeing Fushiguro, too. Except he was home all the time. He just chose to stay locked inside his bedroom.

Mayu stayed locked in her bedroom as well. You did see her, however, because you had the right to tear her door open, flick the lights on and off until she yelled at you to stop, throw a pillow or two in her head, talk shit about that stupid vampire teen series she was binge watching — you know, the usual stuff. You felt bad that she’d have to stay at home all the time right when summer break started; Mayu was always very social. It was even a bit impressive to see a teenager preferring to go out than bed rot or play video games all day. 

In the end, you were the only one that even transited inside the house. Well. You and Countess. But Countess hated you, so whenever you crossed paths, she’d immediately change rooms.

Bitch.

Work was the same, except it wasn’t.

Your tasks were the same, of course. You went back to work fearing being fired when you were called to talk to HR (because technically you had vanished an hour and half before your actual leave time), but turns out the hospital feared you. Investigation led to the conclusion that the “explosion” happened due to a gas leak, i.e.: the hospital’s fault. HR was frightened that the employees would sue them (and they would probably win), so your boss talked to you in the calmest, nicest voice you’d ever heard. 

And yet, that wasn’t even what caught you off guard.

Himeda-san, head of HR, had a worried (empathic?) expression when she said quietly:

“We’ve been informed about your case. We want you to know that you’re a valuable professional who we appreciate and support in our hospital. Security has been informed as well, and they’ll keep an eye on you. We’ll do anything we can to help you.”

You didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.

Your case. She definitely didn’t know about the sorcery stuff, but they had a police report with them. It made you curious to know what Gojo — or Jujutsu High, whatever — told them. You just smiled, nodded and thanked her. 

So, yeah. Work was the same. Except you could see that there was a strange, translucent “dome” around the entirety of the hospital complex with a slightly different color than the normal sky; a protective curtain, apparently. Except a part of you was frightened of attending new patients now, even if they were unconscious or elders or children, because this part kept whispering, what if they’re curse users in disguise? 

Except you couldn’t go anywhere unattended. You couldn’t drive. You couldn’t take the subway. Which might sound good (you could nap in the backseat the whole way), but your routine was restricted. You couldn’t have a drink after work with your colleagues, or stop at the supermarket, or eat at that Italian restaurant near the hospital you loved, because you were being constantly tracked and you couldn’t leave your pre-designated daily route. It was home-work-home-work, no stops, no breaks.

Ijichi was usually the one to drive you; if it wasn’t him, it was Nitta — the other blonde cheerful assistant manager. As far as you knew, their job was not to just drive people around, so you felt bad that they had to tend you like a child despite their other tasks. Upon hearing this, Ijichi just chuckled nervously and shrugged.

“Don’t worry about us, Mori-san. It’s part of our job. Besides, Gojo-san is paying me extra,” though that last sentence was spoken under his breath; he didn’t expect you to hear it. 

Well. It still made you feel bad, because Ijichi specifically always looked stressed and tired. Despite your unstable work hours, he was never late. It became a habit of yours to buy him donuts everyday as a small compensation (the hospital’s cafeteria sold the best donuts you’d ever tasted in your life). It wasn’t much, yet Ijichi looked about to cry the first time you gave him a box full of cream and chocolate donuts.

At least your work was hell as usual. But that’s the hell you chose, not one imposed to you. The type of hell that made your brain burn, your adrenaline levels stay high, the one that kept you busy and made you feel alive. You liked it. You needed it.

After a week of this new-but-same life, you already felt that you were going insane.

You took the night shift. When you got home, it was six in the morning and the kids were still sleeping (Mayu was definitely sleeping; Fushiguro was a morning person, so he probably just chose to stay locked). The house was as empty and lifeless as usual. 

Usually, you’d shower and go straight to bed. But the weather was nice and you decided to torture your brain a little bit longer. You slipped into that green short sleeved pajama top (but put pants instead of the shorts that matched. You’d been avoiding to wear anything too short inside the house. Your stay at home shorts were short. I-can-see-half-your-buttcheeks type of short), put a green relaxing face mask on, cracked a freezing cold beer open and sat in the tatami room alone. No phone, no TV. Just beer, overexhaustion and an empty head.

“What’s the concept behind the all green?”

You almost spat out your heart.

Gojo. Of course. This son of a bitch teleported to the house, he almost never used the front door — so you almost never heard him coming.

You turned around to see him leaning by the door with his arms crossed. It’d been five days since he’d been home. He wore a light blue dress shirt tucked into his pants, had its sleeves rolled up and two buttons opened. His usual jacket hung from his shoulder. Instead of the blindfold, Gojo wore a pair of elegant rectangular sunglasses. His hair was down.

Infuriating. He looked infuriating, and you looked like freshly spat phlegm. Great.

“You— don’t you have manners?!” You rested your hand over your pounding heart. “Why can’t you announce yourself like a normal person?”

Gojo raised his eyebrows slightly as if you said something unexpected.

“Uh… I’m home?” 

“Welcome home.” You said between gritted teeth. “See? Was it hard?”

He smiled.

Why did he look happy?

Gojo got rid of his fucking huge blue slippers and plopped down on the tatami as well. He threw the jacket over the table carelessly. You noticed how he couldn’t keep his crossed legs under the table like you because they still were one kilometer each. He took a bit of the chips you were eating and eyed the can in your hand with judgemental eyes.

“So? Is there a reason why you’re green?” He pointed at your shirt, your face mask, the green headband pushing your hair back. “Also — is it healthy to drink at six in the morning?”

“I worked all night. Don’t care if it’s healthy or not.” You took one more sip. “And about the green thing: Mori. Duh.”

Gojo paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Why do you think Mayu’s hair is green?”

Well, maybe the combination of green you had at the moment was unintentional, but it’s true that you and Mayu had an obnoxious amount of green things. It was an inside joke dad started. Mori is pronounced exactly like forest. He used to call you sprout when you were a kid, and did the same thing with Mayu. It became a small tradition: green birthday cakes. The outside of your old house was painted green. All of your graduation dresses were green. You caught yourself buying things just because they were green. The whole green thing became a bit stronger after he passed.

But you weren’t going to get into detail with him.

“You’re clearly committed, huh?” 

“Yeah. And you can’t judge me. You’re always wearing or carrying something blue.” You pointed at his shirt.

Gojo pushed his glasses down the bridge of his nose and blinked prettily. “Oh, but I can’t help wanting to highlight those eyes, can I? Wait— don’t look at me!” He immediately pushed his glasses up again. “Phew, you almost got another nosebleed.” 

You rolled your eyes whilst chuckling. He chuckled, too. He’s funny, okay? I’m not gonna act like he isn’t. “When will you stop talking about that?!”

“Never.”

“Ugh. It could be something serious, okay? I should get a tomography.” You offered him a beer absently.

“Nah, I’m sure your brain was just shocked to see such a beautiful creature for the first time.” You unoffered the beer. He shrugged like a child. “I didn’t want it anyway.”

“More for me.” You chugged down more beer.

Gojo rested his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek over his knuckles, checking his phone with the other hand absently. 

You tried really, really hard to not look at it directly, because something told you that he’d notice even if you were sly.

But that oversized jacket of his did a great job at disguising his physique.

The dress shirt wasn’t even tight, yet his biceps were practically yelling at you through the fabric. The shocking part — he was relaxed. He wasn’t flexing them. The volume of his well defined chest was there, too, and the traps that were completely hidden when he wore that jacket. Gojo wasn’t lanky at all. That was the body of someone that exercises regularly and heavily.

Jesus Christ.

He got even more infuriating.

After some moments of checking his phone, he put it on the table and looked at you — which gave your brain a slight electric shock.

You drank more beer.

Silence.

“You’ll keep staring at me in silence? It’s getting weird.” You side eyed him.

Gojo clapped his hands once and straightened his back.

“So.” You didn’t like his tone. You hated his tone. It meant something bad was coming. “I’ve been avoiding the subject because I’m a reeeally nice, sensitive guy. I take the feelings of others in consideration, you know? God, I’m such an empath. And strong. And handsome.”

“And humble.”

“Right?” He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in a fake surprised expression. “I keep telling everyone this, but no one agrees with me!”

“Oh, I wonder why.”

You both cackled.

Half of your neurons were giggling. The other half was side eyeing the giggling half.

Ahem. 

You gulped more beer. “What is it?”

“It’s about something you told your granny.” He scratched his head. His hair looked so fluffy. Infuriating. “It’s been stuck in my head ever since… well, the whole thing has been stuck in my head, to be honest — respectfully, I never liked your granny, so it was nice to see someone put her back in her place—”

“Get to the point.”

“Your mother’s death anniversary was on July 17th. Your technique ‘activated’ on July 18th. Don’t you think it’s too much of a coincidence?”

No neuron was giggling anymore.

You took another hard chug of the beer and set the can on the table. 

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

You blinked nervously. “Gojo-san, I’ve been awake for longer than I can remember and slightly intoxicated. You’ll have to be more explanatory if you want me to understand anything.”

Gojo pouted. “You can drop the san, I don’t mind it.”

“Focus, please.”

He shifted in place. Gojo still had that carefree attitude, but you noticed how he got more serious. “One day, you live a normal life. The next day, your technique awakens. All that following your mother’s tenth death anniversary. And there’s something else, too— you said curses didn’t perceive you?”

“...Yes.”

“Curses go feral the moment they realize you can see them. They are attracted by people with significant cursed energy reserves like you. Yet, you said they never interacted with you. That doesn’t make sense.”

You remembered the way the mutant rat tried to attack you when you told it to shut up. It had never happened before.

You passed your hand over your face, but had forgotten it had a face mask on. Your hand came green. You groaned and angrily scrubbed your face on the towel that had been resting over your shoulder.

“Do you think— do you think my mom had something to do with it?”

“I’m not saying she did. I’m saying that it’s too big of a coincidence to not investigate.” Gojo pursed his lips. “Your face’s still green, by the way.”

“Whatever.” You threw the towel over the table. “But— it might be just a coincidence. Maybe my technique chose a random day to appear.”

He held his chin and pouted again. Fucking glossy lips. Infuriating. “Uh, that’s near impossible, sweetheart. Techniques don’t show up at random. They blossom from 4 to 6 years old.”

“But if I had it since I was a kid, my grandmother would’ve known, right?”

Gojo pointed a finger gun at you. “Correct! Very insightful!” Some neurons went yayyyy. “That’s just one of the things that don’t make sense about you, my dear green friend, because I should’ve noticed you at the hospital, too. Megumi was right. He didn’t see your cursed energy and I didn’t see it, either.”

You frowned. “But we never crossed paths in the hospital. I don’t remember meeting you.”

Gojo smirked and dropped his glasses down the bridge of his nose again. “These eyes see far, sweetheart.”

You frowned even more. “You can see through walls?”

“It really was like you were a non-sorcerer.” He ignored your question and pushed his glasses up again. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“You can see through walls?”

“Why are you repeating that?”

“Well, now I’m worried about living with the guy that sees through walls.” You crossed your arms protectively. Gojo rolled his eyes. It was a bit shocking to see him roll his eyes. 

“I’m not a pervert, Mori. And that’s not even how my eyes work.”

You frowned slightly. “How do th ey work? What is even your technique, by the way? No one explained to me yet.”

“I know I’m such an interesting person that conversations usually orbit around me, but right now you’re the subject, sweetheart.”

Your shoulders dropped. You chugged the last bit of the beer. 

“Okay. Do you have any clue of what’s going on?”

“I was hoping you’d have a clue.” 

“How would I have a clue? I’m completely clueless about pretty much everything going on around me.”

“Yeah, but you knew your mother.” The shift in Gojo’s voice and behavior was subtle, but you saw it anyway; a bit more serious. A bit more hesitant. “And you know how she passed.”

Silence. 

For the first time, you avoided his gaze, lowering your eyes on the table. The whole lighthearted atmosphere was gone. 

Gojo wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t an easy topic. Yet, he asked anyway: he had to.

“Do you remember anything… strange or worth noting from the day she passed?”

You tapped your fingertip over the empty can in a constant rhythm.

It’d been ten years; you were able to talk about it with some sort of “normality” now. However, it still wasn’t something you’d willingly talk about. Not at all.

“Mom died in a car crash.” Your voice was quieter. Tiredness mixed with the sorrow you couldn’t hide whenever you talked about it. “I was in the car with her.”

Gojo raised his eyebrows slightly. This information seemed to take him by surprise. The way you scratched your forehead nervously and your dry, bitter chuckle took him by surprise, too.

“Fuck. The more I think about it, the more your theory makes sense.” You met his gaze again. “I don’t remember the car crash at all. If it was a concussion or a trauma response… I don’t know. I never wanted to know.”

Gojo was serious now. Not even the shadow of a smile on his face — and that was a bit shocking. You hadn’t seen him actually serious before. The slight frown of his brows, the tightness of his jaw; it’s like you could see his brain working furiously, trying to connect the dots.

“So this period of time is blank in your mind?” You nodded. Gojo hummed. “Anything could’ve happened to you in the meantime.” 

“Yeah.”

Gojo crossed his arms and tapped his index finger over his lips. He was planning something. His analyzing gaze over you was a bit overwhelming.

“I know someone who could try to look into your head. But it’s not gonna be nice or easy for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Messing with memories is complicated. Especially painful memories.”

You sighed heavily. Just this short conversation was already taking too much from your brain prowess and your already fucked up emotional state. But at the same time… there were way too many strange things about you, and you were as eager to discover the truth as he was. More than he was, in fact.

So you nodded. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Gojo nodded and immediately took his phone again. “Okay. I’ll call her.”

You massaged your own thighs under the table nervously. “So… how’s it gonna be? Are we going somewhere? I’m gonna get changed—”

Gojo waved his hand and shook his head. “Relax, sweetheart, it won’t be today. I’m gonna book her on your day off, okay?”

You didn’t know who the fuck “she” was and you didn’t feel like asking. You cracked another beer open and huffed. “Good luck with that. I don’t even know when my next day off will be.”

“Oh, what a busy woman! A workaholic! I should be thankful that she’s gracing me with her presence right now!” There he was, with his silly sarcasm again. 

You didn’t know Gojo that well, but there were a few things you already got about him. The way he tried to brighten the mood despite the shittiest situations. The way he’d act silly and carefree, so you (Mayu and Fushiguro to an extent) wouldn’t freak out. He was definitely arrogant — the way he boasted about himself most times wasn’t jokingly, you noticed — yet, at the same time, you noticed it was a tad bit intentional. It’s like he was trying to distract everyone. 

That was nice of him. It really was.

And it unfortunately worked on you, because you were smiling again while drinking more beer.

“Says the guy who hasn’t been home in five days.”

Gojo looked up from his phone for a moment and wiggled his eyebrows. “What? Missed me too bad?”

“You have no idea.” You got up from the floor, carrying the cans in your hands. “Now, excuse me… I don’t wanna get another nosebleed.”

Gojo cackled while you walked out of the room — and a truth you had to admit to yourself is that you liked the idea of making him smile.

A/N: I really want to focus on the doctor aspect of her life. She practically lives inside the hospital so it wouldn't make sense to not add what she's doing there lol. Doing research on medical procedures is being so fun!!! By the way, I apologize in advance if you're an actual doctor/student and spot anything too inaccurate, I'm trusting a few sketchy sources to write this lol Originally this ch would have some action, but it wrapped up nicely, so I decided to keep it short :D As usual, feedback is MUCH appreciated! If you read it this far, don't forget to leave a comment <3 See you!

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 3

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

You were incapable of understanding words anymore.

That part of your brain had shut down. Your neurons were yelling and running around desperately as their workplace was on fire.

You stared at him. He stared back.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. You can come live with me.”

It still didn’t make sense. Like everything else that happened that day.

He was crouched down to your eye level. Smiling as if he had proposed something completely inside the scope of what’s considered normal. As if he had said “Let’s order pizza for dinner” instead of whatever it meant.

“Live with you?”

Gojo nodded. Still smiling. Why was he still smiling? “Yep!”

One of your neurons stopped for a moment. Processed what he said. Understood it. And then went back to yelling and running in circles.

You got up in a jump.

“Are you insane?!” Now you were walking around nervously too. Away from him. Gojo hummed and turned around, still crouching over his one kilometer legs.

“I’m pretty sane against all odds.”

“You can’t just… ask me to live with you!”

“Why not?” He pouted. One of your neurons stopped running and stared at his glossy plump lips in awe, before being pushed over by another panicked neuron. “The house’s pretty big! We got enough rooms for everybody!”

“Why not?! Well, for starters, I don’t even know you!” You crossed your arms protectively.

Gojo giggled and stood up straight. Damn, he’s tall, one of the neurons noticed again as its colleague’s head was on fire. He put his hands inside the pockets of his pants and tilted his head slightly.

“Don’t get emotional, sweetheart. I know I’m irresistible, but this isn’t a marriage proposal. I’m just saying you can come live in my house.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You pointed at him angrily. More neurons head’s caught fire. “I met you this morning. You saved me — thank you, by the way — but I don’t know what type of person you are! I don’t know anything about you, actually, besides the fact that you’re a sorcerer-teacher-whatever and that you got reeeeally sensitive eyes.” He giggled at your mocking impression of his voice. A neuron tripped over and fell flat on the floor.

Gojo hummed and shrugged. “Well. I really didn’t introduce myself.” He offered you a hand. “Name’s Gojo Satoru. Sorcerer-teacher-whatever, at your service. Extremely reliable, extremely strong, and extremely good looking — but you already noticed that.” You were under the impression he would’ve winked if that thing wasn’t covering his eyes.

You scrapped the heel of your tennis over the concrete floor nervously. “I don’t— I still don’t get why. It just sounds way too drastic and unrealistic.”

It makes you look even more like a creep is what you really wanted to say.

“I’ve explained to you already, honey boo—”

“I have a name.”

“—you’re out of options. You told granny to fuck off. You don’t wanna be a sorcerer, which, you know, understandable, but there’s still people hunting you out there, and they seem pretty keen on succeeding. There’s a big fat target over your head right now, and it won’t disappear until we get to the root of the problem. Now, you and your sister need protection.”

You scrapped your heel more nervously. One neuron was sitting in the corner, holding its chin with a pensive expression while everything else burned, muttering what he’s saying makes sense. But still — living with him? It was strange, sudden, awkward, like everything else that happened in the past ten hours or so.

In a normal setting, no one would accept to live with someone they met that morning — a really emotional lesbian would after the first date, a neuron noted, but you ignored it —, especially considering your situation. A woman with a teenage sister. Despite the looks, Gojo didn’t really feel like a creep in the worst sense of the word, but still. You barely knew him. Would you be safe around him? Would Mayu be safe?

You avoided his gaze. “I… I really don’t know—”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Your eyes snapped up. “What?”

“I’m serious. Your nose is bleeding.”

The neuron responsible for feeling when you had a runny nose was passed out on the floor in front of the control table.

You touched the space between your nose and your lips. Your fingertips came bloody.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled quietly. More was coming. You pinched your nose and kept your lead lowered. “Shid. I deed ice.”

Maybe looking down was a bad idea, because the moment you did, the world twirled.

“Wow, wow—” And then his hand was on your arm, supporting you before you could stumble and fall. Gojo pressed his palm on your forehead gently (Damn, his hand is big, one of the neurons noticed as its colleague’s head was still on fire) and hummed. “You got a fever, too. Not good.”

Fever? Were you feverish? Well, that’d explain why you thought the breeze was kinda cold despite the hellish temperature.

“I deed paracedamol—” You muttered a second before the world twirled again — with reason this time: your legs were off the floor. Gojo had carried you bridal style swiftly as if you had no weight once more. Not a single grunt of effort.

Okay, that was hot, one neuron said, nodding. Three other neurons stopped running to watch the scene and nodded. Yeah, totally, uh-huh.

“To the infirmary we go,” he announced.

“I can sdill walk,” you tried whilst still pinching your nose.

Your stomach dropped. That feeling was familiar — he had done this, whatever it was, when he saved you. Space warped. Your brain felt like sludge inside your skull. And then—

You weren’t out in the open anymore, behind that shrine looking building. You were inside the infirmary in the blink of an eye.

A couple neurons committed suicide.

“Shoooookooo,” he sung. You tightened your eyes, bothered by the volume of his voice. It felt like hammers in your head. “You got a patient!”

He walked over to one of the hospital beds and put you sitting there with surprising care (That was hot, the group of neurons said in unison while nodding). You heard steps. There she was — doctor lady with the same tired face.

“My dose is bleeding,” you explained — and your doctor genes immediately kicked in. The will to explain everything going on with you in excruciating detail while trying to self diagnose at the same time.She hummed and took a couple of gauze; you immediately pressed it on your nose while still keeping your head down. It was a constant flow of blood. Felt horrible. “Got a god-awful headache since I woke up, too, and occasional dizziness. I feel like shit, so my blood pressure must’ve dropped. Also, huh, I think I don’t really sleep in over 30 hours now.”

“24 hour shift?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“You guys are savages, interrogating and draggin’ her around after a full shift.” She sent a judging eye towards Gojo. Finally, someone’s on my side!, you thought tiredly (Wasn’t she interrogating us too?, one neuron asked, frowning). He turned his lips downwards and put his palms up in a surrendering gesture. She pointed towards the door. “Outta my infirmary now.”

“Okaaay.” Gojo shrugged and walked out obediently.

“D’you have occasional nosebleed?” Doctor lady (Gojo said her name, right? What was her name…?) asked while offering a thermometer which you promptly put under your arm.

“No.”

She tightened her eyes. “Weird.”

You brushed the gauze under your nose for a moment before pressing it once more. “I guess I went over my exhaustion limit today.”

The thermometer beeped. She took it: 38,6º of fever. Not good.

“There’s that, too, but you got something else going on. Lay down.”

You did. It felt nice to lay down, even in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

She threw the gauze in the trash can nearby, put gloves on and made you put your arms on your sides. You thought she was going to check your vitals (she hadn’t checked your blood pressure, which was already weird), but the brunette did something else.

She put one hand over your chest and one over your stomach.

Closed her eyes for a moment. Silent. Focused.

The neurons stared at her altogether, forgetting the fire around them for a moment. What the fuck?

The hand over your stomach went up, slowly. Now both were over your chest. She opened her eyes and nodded.

“Yep. That’s it.”

You couldn’t hide your weirded out expression.

“Uh… may I ask what’s going on?”

“It’s exhaustion,” she explained absently. “But it’s also your body adjusting to the sudden burst of cursed energy.”

Some neurons had a stroke. Others went back to screaming and running.

“It’s not that uncommon. Happens when someone doesn’t use their cursed energy in a long time. Nanami had that, too, when he came back to business,” you didn’t know who the fuck Nanami was (though she muttered that last sentence more to herself than to you). “Cursed energy is like any part of your body, you know. It has to be exercised regularly. If it’s not, and then you suddenly use it to full force, you’ll get cramps.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t use it. I don’t know how.”

“Just ‘cause you don’t know how, doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

“But I—”

Wait.

Actually.

That moment, laying on the floor of the meat locker. When you “caught fire” and the papers — seals — burned.

“I think I did.” You confessed quietly. She nodded with a knowing little smile.

“Yeah. Now, let me focus…”

She closed her eyes again. Now, one palm was at the top of your head.

You still thought that was weird.

Then you felt it.

It felt cold at first, as if you had frost injected in your veins. It felt uncomfortable… until it didn’t anymore. Your body was light as if you were flowing with the calm, cold current of a crystal clear river.

The headache was gone. Your legs didn’t feel like jelly anymore. You felt the fever dissipate as if she had taken it into her bare hands and thrown away in the trash can with the bloody gauze.

No more than three minutes later, she stepped away.

“Feel better?”

You stared up at her in awe.

All the neurons had their jaws dropped.

“How— Did— Huh?!” Was all you could mutter.

She shrugged while throwing the disposable gloves in the trash can. “You can sit, but I’m not done with you yet.”

You did. Slowly. More neurons had strokes.

You’d experienced more weirdness in the past hours than in your entire life. This, however, was what truly changed your worldview.

That woman healed you in minutes with magic.

This type of thing was simply possible? It just casually exist in this world? What was the point of our profession, then? What was the point of years of med school, of hospitals? If she could heal people with her hands, why was she hidden inside this school? Why hadn’t she won a Nobel Prize? Why hadn’t she cured cancer or AIDS worldwide—?

“I know what you thinking,” she came back holding a platter with a few pills and a plastic cup filled with water. “What I just did only works for sorcerers. Normal people can’t be healed like that. So don’t freak out.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t hold back that sigh of relief. “I was freaking out.”

“Figured.” She smiled again. She pointed at the pills. “This one’s to help regulate your cursed energy circulation. This one’s to help ease your inflamed body. This one’s paracetamol. And this one will knock you out for some good hours.”

“Right.” Normal you would’ve taken your time to ask the exact name of each medicament, but you didn’t have it in you at that moment — and you’d trust the woman who healed you with her bare hands with your eyes shut. You took the first pill and swallowed it. “Thank you…”

“Ieiri Shoko at your service. Chief doctor of Jujutsu High.” She offered a kind, tired smile. Ieiri eyed your uniform and the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital logo embroidered over the left side of your chest. “Resident?”

“Yeah.”

“How long in?”

“Two years in September. Emergency.”

“Oof. I knew it. I can spot an adrenaline junkie from miles.” You both chuckled. She leaned on the bed while you took the second pill. “Pretty hard to get accepted in the Metropolitan, eh? You must have a great resume.”

“Well. Kind of.” You shrugged absently. Having graduated at a prestigious international med school helped. Having a cardiologist father in your ear for most of your studying years helped, too. You tightened your eyes at Ieiri for a moment. She was about your age, but already a chief doctor? Even if she began med school earlier, she still wouldn’t have finished a residency yet. “Where’d you take your residency?”

“Oh, I didn’t. Just straight to business. Jujutsu High didn’t have time to wait for me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I wasn’t planning to work with public health care anyway. My thing was always with sorcery, but I still needed a degree.”

You swallowed the paracetamol, barely containing your excitement. “So… what did you do to me exactly?”

“Reverse cursed energy.” She said flatly. Yeah, that explains everything. Ieiri sighed. “Cursed energy is negative energy, so in order to heal, you have to multiply it over itself to create positive energy…”

It felt that your headache was coming back. All of your neurons had gathered on a strike, holding plates and pitchforks, shouting angrily at you: WE WANT TO REST!! NO MORE SORCERY BULLSHIT!!

You scowled and scratched your head.

“I think I took too much info for a day. Promise I’ll come bother you any other time to try to understand what the hell you’re saying.” Ieiri let a tired chuckle.

“Yeah, you have a ton of things to try to understand. Like why no one suspected you had cursed energy before, and why it manifested all of sudden.” She tightened her eyes at you, and for a moment, you felt like a lab rat being thoroughly analyzed. “I could run some tests on you to find out if you have a pathological condition of some sort…”

“Right.” I’m not so sure about that.

“So. Like I said, this pill will knock you out. You need a place to sleep. Are you staying in the school?”

This made you remember the other problem you were dealing with.

“Hm… I was told me and my sister could spend the night here. But after that…”

You eyed Ieiri.

She obviously knew Gojo, though you didn’t know how close they were. Still better than nothing. A woman, on top of that, to give you some solid opinions.

“Gojo explained we can’t stay here much longer.” You began, paying close attention to her reactions. “So… he offered us his house for the time being.”

She widened her eyes slightly.

“He did?” You nodded. Ieiri shrugged. “It’s a good option.”

That took you by surprise.

You frowned and leaned towards her slightly. “Is it, really?” You dropped your voice, scared he was still out there, listening. “I mean— I don’t know him at all. I don’t even understand why he’d propose this in the first place.”

“I bet he feels responsible.”

“Why would he feel responsible? He’s got nothing to do with it.” You crossed your arms. “We met this morning. Do you sorcerers feel responsible like this over everybody?”

It was Ieiri’s turn to frown. “He’s got everything to do with it. You can pierce his Infinity. I’d place all my bets that that’s the reason why they put a reward on your head in the first place.” At your utter confused expression, she sighed. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t know… it’s so weird to meet someone that doesn’t.” She placed the platter over the bed beside you and crossed her arms. “Look. If he offered you this, it means you’re not joining Jujutsu High. So this is your best chance. Gojo might be an idiot, but he’s not a creep. And he’s pretty dependable despite everything.”

You intertwined your fingers over your lap. “He said the school is the safest place in the world for me and my sister.”

“The safest place in the world is anywhere he’s at.”

That took you by surprise.

Ieiri didn’t look like the type of person who would say that about anyone.

It made you wonder: who exactly was Gojo Satoru?

She sighed again and took the platter. “You had enough for today. Here, take the pill. You need to sleep right now or you’ll get another fever.”

“But… you said it’d knock me out—”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. No one will hurt you here.”

A part of you didn’t want to. You wanted answers. You wanted to find out everything weird and wrong about you, the people after you, your mother, your technique— and you wanted everything at that moment.

But you truly had enough for a day.

So you took the pill — even though you didn’t expect it’d actually knock you out two minutes after you swallowed it.

It led you to a deep, dreamless, well deserved sleep.

All your neurons celebrated.

Mayu had her leg over you.

She always did, ever since she was 4 and would crawl up your bed in the middle of the night because she had a nightmare. It didn’t bother you back then, but she was big now. You could bet she’d be taller than you before the year ended. And you were both laying on a single bed. She was almost pushing you off the bed, actually.

There was a mattress on the floor. You wondered if they’d offered her a different room, but she asked to sleep with you anyway. She must’ve crawled up the bed the same way she did when she was four.

This made your heart ache.

Mayu just acted nonchalant. She was also scared of what happened to your home.

After long minutes of contemplating the ceiling, you sighed and got off the bed slowly to not wake her up (not that it was hard — a bomb could drop over her head and she would not wake up). You sat on the mattress with your legs crossed and let the gears in your mind fully turn. After sleeping so much, the gears were polished with machine oil and were turning smoothly. The neurons had swept the floor, mopped it with an aromatic detergent that smelled of lemon. The control room was pristine clean.

Which didn’t mean you were okay, of course. Just more rational.

You both were inside a simple, yet spacious dorm room. Sunlight entered through a breach on the curtains, birds chirped a relaxing melody. Your phone lit up with life again as you put it on the charger: the screen showed, 6:21, July 19th, Sunday. The notification bar was overloaded with even more texts and missed calls. You ignored everyone.

You had many decisions to make. Life-changing ones. And many topics to discuss. But you also smelled of unwashed ass and your panties were way past the expiration date, so a shower had to come first.

You hooked your backpack on your shoulder and left the room quietly.

At first, you hoped to find someone to give you directions, but the entirety of the dorm building was empty. Sure, it was still six in the morning of a Sunday, yet the fact that you couldn’t hear a sound was weird. If the whole place wasn’t pristine clean, you’d think it was abandoned. Regardless, it wasn’t hard to find the communal bathroom — again, empty.

You only remembered you hadn’t brought shampoo or hair conditioner when your head was already under the shower (first little inconvenience of the day). Then you checked the clothes you shoved absently inside the backpack: jeans pants and that grey oversized t-shirt with a giant Godzilla printed on — Ren’s t-shirt. The problem isn’t that the shirt was Ren’s, but that you knew it’d get super hot later and that wearing the shirt felt the same as wrapping yourself in a thermal blanket (second little inconvenience of the day). You didn’t even dare trying to untangle your hair in that state, so you just tied it into a bun, wet and all. You were an expert in buns. Your scalp cried a little every day.

You needed to eat. You also needed to smoke. You didn’t know if it was allowed to smoke inside the campus. Well, this place is dead empty, you thought. You lightened up a cigarette behind the dorm building in a pretty hidden spot, away from the windows. There’s no way anyone will see if I smoke a little.

Beeeeep. Wrong.

“Smokin’ ain’t allowed here, miss.”

You shrieked and almost dropped the cigarette.

A familiar mop of white hair was peeking at you from the corner.

Gojo approached with his already usual relaxed demeanor. Hands in the pockets of his jacket and all. Had he even slept?

Shit. I didn’t expect to meet him so early. I didn’t even really think about what I’ll tell him.

“My bad, I didn’t know.” You didn’t let go of the cigarette, however. You doubted he actually cared. You bowed your head in a small greeting. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’. Feel better?” He leaned his back on the wall beside you.

“Yes.”

“Shoko’s sleeping pills knocked you out, huh? You were acting funny, walking to the dorm. Bet you were already asleep.”

Oh. You didn’t even remember walking to the bedroom in the first place. “Yeah. I slept very well. I’ll see if she can give me a pack later.”

Gojo chuckled. “Careful with that! I slept, like, three days straight once because of these. She had to forcefully wake my brain ‘cause she was scared I was gonna die.”

You blew smoke, moving your face away from him (though the breeze was blowing in the opposite direction already. That’s why he chose that spot?) and a bit of a strange silence settled. You were nervous. You’d been nervous since you woke up.

You cleaned your throat. “I haven’t properly thanked you yet, have I?”

Gojo clicked his tongue and smiled handsomely. “Don’t mention it.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“No, you saved my life. I can’t not thank you.”

“It’s fine, really! That was any other day in the life of the great Gojo Satoru. No big deal for me.” He shrugged.

“Was a big deal for me.”

He hummed for a moment before opening a grin that made him look like an evil gremlin. “Okay, then. Show me your deep polite bow and your proper thank you.”

You stared at him with a blank expression.

You turned your head and blew more smoke. “Thanks.”

He gasped. “That’s your ‘proper thank you’?!”

“No, but you pissed me off.”

Gojo pouted and whined like a literal child who was denied something. “That’s not niiice. You put my expectations up there!”

He’s kinda funny, one half-asleep neuron noted. The colleague beside him nodded. You took another puff and told them to shut up.

“I talked to Ieiri-san yesterday,” you began in a quiet tone after a few beats of silence, blowing more smoke. “I said I didn’t understand why you’d feel responsible over me if you had nothing to do with it. She said you had everything to do with it.” You eyed him again, quirking one eyebrow up.

Gojo crossed his arms and whined again. His lips turned downwards. “D’you really wanna talk about that now? It’s six in the morning, man. My brain ain’t even really on yet.”

“Yes.” You said flatly.

He whined like an old man now. So he whines like a child when he’s disappointed and like an old man when he’s doing something he doesn’t want to. The neuron rapidly scribbled this information in its notebook.

“To put it simply,” he said while holding his chin. “Your technique completely nullifies mine. And that’s a problem.”

“A problem to who exactly…?”

“To me. Duh. And to everybody else in extent.” He smirked cheekily. “I’m pretty important, you know? Lots and lots of guys tryin’ to take me down.”

One more puff. You tightened your eyes at him. You did see Gojo blow up a ceiling, fly, freaking teleport, twist limbs at will. Shoko stated you’d be safe with him. The kidnappers looked scared of him. But still — it didn’t make that much sense why you would be targeted.

“Who are ‘guys’?” You blew more smoke. “D’you go around pissing everyone off?”

“Yep. Pissing people off is what I’m best at.” He shrugged. He did look proud of himself.

“Doesn’t sound like appropriate behavior for a teacher. What kinda role model is that?”

“A doctor smoking, what kinda role model is that?”

Gojo cackled unabashedly at your angry scowl. A couple of neurons giggled with him. You told them to shut up.

“Okay. So my technique is Extinguishment.” You began, gesticulating with the cigarette still between your fingers. “And it works against yours.” He nodded. “D’you offer everyone who can counter your technique housing and protection?”

He cackled again. “Hah, of course not. No one can counter my technique, sweetheart. Well. Except you.”

You stared at him in silence again.

It didn’t look like he was joking.

You pushed yourself off the wall to face him. “No one?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ve been in the business for long enough to be sure.”

One more puff. The cigarette was almost finished. “Okay. But even if I have this thing, I don’t know how to use it. How’s it gonna work against you?” You exhaled more smoke. “Even better question: why would I make it work against you? You seem pretty chill despite everything. I wouldn’t wanna take you down, or whatever.”

Gojo clasped his hands together and tilted his head to the side. “Awww. I’m pretty chill? That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle this time whilst rolling your eyes. “Answer the question.”

He put his clasped hands over his stomach. Gojo was still smiling, but his tone got a bit more serious. “There are curse users with mind controlling techniques. There are ways to copy or steal a technique as well. Or they could simply make you work for them through torture.” He shrugged. “They wouldn’t be so scandalous with your kidnapping if they weren’t sure they’d make good use of it. So everything leads me to believe they know how to… and if they get a chance, they will.”

A chill ran up and down your spine.

The few minutes you spent conscious in that meat locker. The way katana man pulled you by the hair and was about to slap you, or punch you, by the movement of his hand, a second before Gojo burst through the ceiling.

Gojo pushed himself off the wall as well and shoved his hands inside the pockets of the jacket again. He kicked a pebble away absently.

“Orrrr they want you to break some seal, free some curse. These are possibilities too. Who knows?” He shrugged once more. “The dudes haven’t opened their mouths yet, but I doubt they’re the only ones after you, or the only ones whoever’s really after you sent. To summarize: you’re in real trouble, sweetheart.”

“I have a name.” You whined again through gritted teeth, though this barely bothered you given the gravity of what he just said. “The three kidnappers are alive?”

“For now.” Another chill ran down your spine.

You hadn’t really really grasped the concept of the ‘why me’ part. Now it was loud and fucking clear. The people after you were willing to torture you to get what they wanted. Went as far as invading your home. They probably already knew about Mayu or even Aunt Junko at this point. The mere thought made your shiver yet again.

Ieiri’s words echoed in your mind.

The safest place in the world is anywhere he’s at.

The last puff. You savored the smoke in your tongue before blowing it. Your head went down when you started to walk in circles again.

“So— how’s this gonna work? You said you were okay with me keeping my residency, but— what if they pop up in the hospital again? What happens if they take me on the way to work? I— I don’t have a fixed schedule. I take weekly 24 hour shifts, I work extra, my days off are random, I—”

He leaned down to your eye level.

Quickly. You didn’t even notice him approaching.

The words got caught in your throat.

“Sooo you’re coming with me?” Why did he sound excited?

“Well, yeah? You said yourself that I don’t have other options.” Uh. That sounded kind of rude. You cleaned your throat. “I mean— thank you for even offering in the first place. I hope it won’t cause you any trouble—”

He fisted the air and leaned away.

“Yayyyy! This is gonna be soo fun!”

You were baffled.

“You just said there’s people wanting to torture me. What’s funny about this?”

“Tsk. Details!”

“What about what I just said? About my work schedule—?”

“One step at a time, sweetheart! Let’s wake Megumi and Mayu-chan—”

He was turning around already — and you wouldn’t reach him fast with his one kilometer legs — so you touched his arm on instinct. “Wait—”

Gojo flinched.

Like a cat.

He turned around in a jump. If it weren’t for the blindfold, you were sure he’d have his eyes widened.

There was something a bit uncanny in seeing a man that big getting scared so easily.

You retracted your arm. Gojo himself seemed a bit taken aback by his own reaction. Or you thought so, that fucking blindfold made it difficult to read him.

“Uh…” Don’t make it awkward, you told yourself. “Mayu. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Gojo recovered much faster than you. He was grinning again. “Don’t worry, sweetheart! I have it all planned out!” And then he turned around again.

“I have a name!”

You found out Fushiguro lived with Gojo the same moment he found out you were going to live with them.

So Gojo is his legal guardian. Now Fushiguro’s involvement with the whole thing made sense. It also felt like a very weird coincidence.

Well.

Fushiguro wasn’t happy with it.

Probably because Gojo banged on his door at six in the morning. Mayu was barely awake, holding the fat demon in her arms.

“We’re all gonna live together!” He chirped to the other barely awake teenager.

The two of them really woke up at the moment.

“What?!” Fushiguro exclaimed. You’d never seen him talk this loud.

“Why?!” Mayu exclaimed. That wasn’t the loudest she could get. You were mildly disappointed.

Gojo pointed at Fushiguro. “You know why.” Gojo pointed at Mayu. “You’re both on witness protection service now.”

Mayu tightened her eyes at you. “What did you do?”

“That’s your reaction?” You were mildly offended.

“Nuh-huh, no questions, Mayu-chan! Your sister’s case is under judicial secrecy!”

“For how long?” Fushiguro looked either about to vomit or jump out the window again.

“Until her case’s settled!” Gojo put both hands together close to his face in somewhat of a praying pose. “C’moooon, Megumi! It’s gonna be fun!”

No one was having fun. Not even you. Knowing there were, you know. People trying to torture you and all.

Countess meowed one of her old lady raspy meows.

Gojo pointed at the demon and looked at you. “This is how you gonna sound in five years if you don’t quit smokin’.”

“Countess is hungry.” Mayu said, ignoring Gojo and the way you glared at him.

“The cat’s coming too?” Fushiguro asked in a constipated voice. He looked constipated. Or about to vomit. Or about to jump out the window.

Mayu’s head whipped in his direction at the speed of light. “Of course she’s coming. Got a problem with that?”

“Yes, I got a problem with that. I don’t like cats.”

Mayu looked about to bite his face off. Fushiguro looked about to square up. Or about to vomit. Or about to jump out the window.

Gojo slapped the back of his head, making him go ouch!. “Be nice, Megumi! Of course the cat’s coming. They can’t abandon her on the street.”

“I’m not gonna clean cat poop.” He crossed his arms like a child.

“No one’s asking you to clean her poop, jackass—”

You elbowed her side. She winced. Countess hissed. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

Gojo clapped his hands. “Great! Let’s move! We got a lot to do!”

You all swallowed breakfast and in half an hour were squeezed in the car. Again.

Fushiguro had earphones on now, angrily staring out the window with such intensity that he might be able to break the glass with the power of his mind. Mayu was half asleep. You were, again, in the middle, like a child. The driver— (Ijichi, Ijichi, Ijichi, his name’s Ijichi) looked pretty disposed against all odds. Of course he was a morning person. Gojo had the decency to not pump loud music, at least.

Mayu widened her eyes all of sudden and turned to you. “What about my date?!”

“What?”

“My date with Kiku on Wednesday. What about my date?!”

“This is what you’re worried about?” You might be able to blow her brain with the power of your mind at that moment. “We’re both on witness protection service and that’s what you’re worried about?”

Gojo sighed. “Mayu-chan knows what’s good. Priorities!”

“Mind your business, will you?” You punched the back of his seat. He giggled.

“That’s a valid question!” Mayu tried to defend herself.

You rolled your eyes and sunk on the seat, deciding to simply not deal with her at that moment. It was time to answer the tons of messages. Remi was calling you very bad names. Some colleagues showed polite worry. You boss — fuck, what would you tell your boss?! — texted, too. And Aunt Junko—

“Oh, my God. D’you talk to Aunt Junko?” You asked while dialing her number and gluing the phone to your ear.

“Yeah, but you know how she is.”

Shit shit shit. How could you leave the hypertensive 64 year old unanswered?!

“Hi? Good morning, Auntie!” She picked up on the second ring, which made your heart tighten with guilt. “Yeah, I’m so sorry. My phone— my phone died and I couldn’t call you. No, I’m fine! Oh, you saw— you saw on TV? Yeah. Yeah, there was an accident. It’s fine. I wasn’t— I wasn’t injured or anything. It’s fine. No, Auntie— the hospital didn’t blow up. It was a small explosion. Yeah, I still have my job.” Or at least you hoped so. “Yeah. How about you? Are you okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for worrying you. Yeah, Mayu’s fine. She’s right here. She’s—”

You paused.

Slowly, you turned to her, your face hardening like stone.

She shrunk.

“Oh. She did?” Mayu avoided your gaze. “Oooh. That’s great to hear. Thanks for telling me.”

Gojo chuckled quietly.

“I’ll call you later, ‘kay, Auntie? Promise I’ll have dinner with you soon. Yeah. God bless you, too. Bye.”

You slammed your forearm against her neck and pressed her head on the window.

“You went to Shinjuku!”

Fushiguro jumped. Ijichi shrieked.

“Stop that!” Mayu tried, frightened.

“You little shit, you went to the festival behind my back! You lied to me! You lied to Aunt!”

“I didn’t— I wasn’t—”

“Oh, so what’s your excuse gonna be?!”

Mayu gulped. “She’s bullying me! Help!”

Gojo chuckled. Fushiguro tried his best to pretend to not be interested. Ijichi shrieked.

“Did you drink? Did you drink?!”

“No!” You kept staring. “Okay— maybe I took a sip from a friend—”

“You took a sip?!” You huffed and threw your arms up. “You are fourteen years old!”

“Don’t act like you never did it when you were my age!” She crossed her arms defensively. “Didn’t you do it too when you were my age, Mr. Blindfold?”

Gojo shook his head vehemently. “Leave me out of this, Mayu-chan!”

“The sip you took could’ve been from a spiked drink! You don’t drink from other’s people’s cups! You’re being an idiot, and I didn’t teach you to be an idiot!” You swiftly took her phone from her hand.

“Hey!”

“That’s for lying to me, Mayuka.”

Gojo hissed. “Called by the government name. It got serious.”

It was her turn to punch the back of his seat. “Mind your business!”

Gojo giggled.

What a beautiful start of your day.

A little bit before eight, you got to your apartment.

You had to file a police report, obviously, due to the break-in. Gojo found a way to fasten the process. Gojo also had already hired a moving company (you wondered what he’d do if you had said no, as that was obviously arranged before you complied). Regardless, there were already boxes and three guys to help take all the stuff downstairs.

The work started.

The apartment was a mess. Some things were broken beyond repair. It was a bit depressing to see that expensive blender broken on the kitchen’s floor, or that full body mirror shattered (why are mirrors so freaking expensive?), or that limited edition Flower Knows eyeshadow palette destroyed on your bedroom’s floor (that made a couple of neurons hold a formal funeral in the corner). Yet, you decided to push the auto-pilot lever up, because if you stopped for a second to think about why everything was happening, you’d feel actually sad. And you couldn’t be sad. That’s what highly functional adults do — they repress every bit of feeling in order to work.

Right?

You were frenetic, walking around the apartment and giving orders like a general. Put the clothes in the suitcases and the black bags. No, this is trash. Please, careful with that. Put the kitchen utensils right here. Mayu, write in these boxes. I think there’s a sharpie in the kitchen. No, the second drawer. I can take these, it’s fine. Thank you, Ijichi.

Despite the grimace, Fushiguro showed to be very helpful, carrying boxes with little to no effort. Ijichi struggled much more, but was very willing to help nevertheless. The only one not helping much was the white-haired bastard. You’d catch him leaning on places, scrolling down his phone, emptying your freaking fridge—

“You don’t need to take all the furniture, sweetheart. Our house is pretty well equipped.”

He looked (“looked”) up from his phone to meet your angry gaze. Your forehead was sweaty, you had pushed the sleeves of the t-shirt up (thermal blanket), you wanted to slap him.

“I have a name.”

“The more you complain about it, the less I feel like calling you by your name, sweetheart.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I thought I was pretty chill.” He pouted dramatically. Some neurons giggled. You rolled your eyes and took another box in your arms. “You got decent stamina for a smoker. I thought you’d be coughing your lungs out already.”

“I exercise regularly.” Okay. Maybe regularly was a stretch. Your work schedule didn’t allow you to do anything regularly. But yeah, you could jog a few respectable kilometers without passing out. “What’d you want me to do about my furniture? I can’t throw it all away. It’s not like we’ll live there forever.”

“One step at a tiiiime. We can figure it out later. Now, just pack what matters the most. Also, your car— it’s gotta go.”

You put the box on the floor again.

“Why my car?!”

“’Cause they much obviously already got the license plate. Duh. It’ll be like driving around a carnival car with giant neon arrows pointing at you like I’m here!! Pleeease kidnap me!!”

Your shoulders dropped and you sighed in defeat. You didn’t want to. That car was an achievement. You got it less than a year ago. It didn’t matter that it was a second-hand (third-hand? Fourth-hand?) 2010 Alto, it was still your car and you liked it.

Gojo grumbled quietly. You looked up to him again.

“Or you can just keep it hidden in the garage, I guess.” He scratched the back of his head.

A smile immediately crept up your lips. “Thanks.”

He smiled back.

A few neurons giggled.

You crouched to take the box again. “If you’re not gonna help, at least don’t stand in the way, sweetheart.”

Gojo huffed. “How am I not helping? I’m doing security full time!”

It was past three in the afternoon when everything essential got packed and inside the back of the truck. You hadn’t had lunch yet, but you were so worked up that your stomach hadn’t complained yet.

Especially — most of your bodily functions were brushed aside the moment you parked in front of the place you’d live in for the foreseeable future.

Look.

In Tokyo, space equals wealth.

It’s a crumpled city. Too many people, too little space. Cars are small, apartments are small, trains are packed, traffic is heavy. The simple fact that you found a two bedroom apartment close to a subway station was already a miracle (an expensive miracle), and in all honesty, it wasn’t even that tiny. Your salary wasn’t the highest it could get yet as you were still a resident, but it couldn’t be considered bad (and luckily, you were paid extra to work those 24 hour shifts, which boosted your income. Not all hospitals were willing to pay for it). Nevertheless, you were aware of how much that apartment cost you.

So when you realized that the car was getting into Meguro of all places, your stomach dropped.

You and Mayu stood side by side on the sidewalk. Both speechless.

“There’s a yard,” she noted.

“Yes.”

“And trees.”

“Yes.”

“And two floors.”

“Yes.”

She looked at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me Blindfold-san was rich?”

You gulped. “I didn’t know, either.”

Because owning a house like that could only mean wealth.

The house was surrounded by walls high enough to prevent passersby to see anything inside; the trees in the property made it even more impossible. It didn’t look like a new construction — not in a “it’s an old house” way, but in a generational wealth way. It had that traditional slanted tiled roof and shoji-style windows that could only mean oh, my peepaw built this house back in the sixties when he founded the family’s enterprises.

There was a dark marble plate above the mail box with a very elegant “五条” carved on it.

Jesus.

You crossed the opening gates. The front yard had the greenest grass you’d ever seen, a stone trail leading to the entrance of the house, and on your left—

“A koi pond,” Mayu gasped quietly. “A freaking koi pond.”

“I saw it, Mayu.” You gasped quietly back.

Surprisingly, the inside didn’t look like a sterile Instagram house, neither it had over the top decoration. It looked like a lived in house. And yet, the luxury was there: it was quiet, in the way the furniture was made of ebony (again — it didn’t look like it was bought recently; it had been there for a while, as high quality materials like that are also generational), the small indoor garden, the very well equipped and large kitchen. The living room was huge. It had a freaking sofa pit (that seemed a bit more recent) with the biggest fucking TV you’d ever seen. It also had the biggest DVD collection you’d ever seen. Mayu gagged at the amount of game consoles on the TV stand.

The house had five bedrooms total. Three bathrooms. One of the bedrooms was on the first floor; they were using it as some sort of storage room, so it had a lot of stuff inside. The rest was up there. The rooms had tatami floor, large windows, built-in wardrobes…

You were impressed and a bit intimidated, to say the least.

And to remember I was worried about Fushiguro back then. He’s much better off than me.

While you were taking boxes out of the truck, you pulled Mayu when you finally got some time alone.

“Mayu. Listen.” You began in a hushed voice. “This is not our house, okay? So don’t be messy. If you break something, I will break your neck. And most important — don’t bother Fushiguro-kun. I already told you about what he’s going through.”

One of the bedrooms on the second floor had its door closed permanently. With an ache in your heart, you figured that was Tsumiki’s.

Fushiguro was bothered, and you understood he was a teenager with a lot going on in his life. Unfortunately, you knew your younger sister and how annoying she could be.

Mayu tsked and groaned. “I knooow. I’m not a monster, okay?” She crossed her arms. “But if he mistreats Countess, he’ll have to deal with me.”

“I’m more worried about the demon eating his fish.”

“Ladiiiiies!”

Both you and Mayu jumped, startled.

Gojo had paper bags in his hands and a large smile. “Let’s have lunch!”

You remembered you were hungry.

He bought large bento boxes for everyone, which honestly? Very kind. Gojo insisted everyone gathered in the tatami room to eat (why he was so excited about this whole thing was still a mystery to you). Fushiguro was quiet all throughout, though this time he figured that he was just more focused on eating than talking. Gojo and Mayu didn’t shut up for a second. Even Ijichi looked a bit happier and relaxed.

You talked a bit as well, but decided to remain quiet.

You had a tatami room back in Kyoto too.

Smaller than this one, sure. But sunlight illuminated the whole place through the sliding doors as well. It always smelled of ocha because you dripped a full teapot on the floor once. You’d always gather there to eat or play board games. It was one of the things you missed the most when you left. You remember telling mom how it’d be nice to come back someday after Mayu was born. How it’d be great to dine, the four of you, in a tatami room again.

It was just you and Mayu now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat with the food.

“You done eating?” Gojo asked after a while.

“Yes.” You were brought back to reality by his voice.

“Great! C’mere, I wanna show you something.”

The two of you left the room alone. His blue slippers were fucking huge, you noted. Just like his feet. And the rest of him.

Gojo just talked again when you were outside.

“A couple things I wanna explain about the house,” he began with his usual carefree tone. “We got regular CCTV. Alarms and all. But we got sorcery security too, and since your technique nullifies anything, I want to show you where they are… so you don’t go touching stuff and releasing seals by accident.”

“Right.”

North, South, East, West — he showed you the exact places they were. Four big objects that resembled nails, hidden between the trees and bushes, wrapped in seals.

“What exactly are those?”

“A type of permanent curtain.” As if you knew what the fuck a curtain was. “Sets anyone with unauthorized cursed energy signature on fire.”

Your eyes widened. “You serious?”

“Yep.” It didn’t look like he was joking. “Also lets me know if there’s an intruder.” Gojo waved for you to follow him to the back of the house. “Something else I don’t want you to touch.”

A tree. The largest in the yard, and apparently, the oldest. He pointed to the thick trunk: near the base, you spotted a kanji engraved. The carving was old, a bit worn out with time, but you could read it; “根”. Root, literally.

“What’s that for?”

“My anchor.” Gojo scratched his cheek with his index finger. “It’s for long distance teleportation. I need anchors, you know? So, pretty please, do not get anywhere near this tree.”

The way this man talked about burning people alive and teleportation so casually was increasing your possibilities of having a stroke very fast.

He twirled in your direction again with his signature excited grin, clasping his hands together. “Also! I have a gift for you! Get excited!!” You didn’t move. His grin dropped. “If you don’t get excited, I ain’t giving it.”

Gojo was met with the biggest smile you’d opened in the past 72 hours. You clasped your hands, mimicking his own stupid pose. “Pleeease, I want to know what it is!!”

He was taken aback.

“How’d you do that?”

“Years of calming patients.” Your smile dropped as fast as it came.

“That’s scary.”

“What about the gift?”

“Oh. Right.” He smiled again and took a small velvet box from his pocket. “It’s not what it seems! I know you love me, but this isn’t a proposal yet.” You chuckled. Fuck.

Gojo opened the black box to reveal a silver bracelet. It had a thick snake chain design. Very simple, that kind of bracelet intended to be decorated with little charms.

“This is a test, in fact,” he explained whilst taking the bracelet from the box. “From what it seems, you nullify anything you touch. So I hid an anchor inside the chain; a tiny piece of paper. I want to see if it still works if it’s not in contact with your skin.”

Gojo unclasped it with ease and waited for you to offer your wrist, which you did. And then it happened again. The way he seemed to shiver when his fingers touched you, even if it was brief and featherlight.

This reaction of his was starting to make you curious.

“You want to put an anchor on me?”

“Well, of course. If anything happens and I’m not around, I’ll be able to get to you in a second. Aren’t I amazing?” He grinned cheekily. You wouldn’t boast his already huge ego, but you, in fact, thought he was amazing. Probably because you didn’t know any of this sorcery shit even existed yesterday morning. Anything he did was impressive. “Now be quiet for a moment, I need to activate it first.”

His hand moved towards the blindfold.

All of your neurons froze in place.

You hadn’t noticed how truly anxious you were to see what the hell was under there until that moment. Your body reacted first. Your heartbeat increased, you gulped. He’s taking it off! He’s taking it off!

Maybe it was stupid how, in your perception, time moved in slow motion.

How the background — the yard, the trees — blurred.

He pushed the black blindfold down with his index finger. To him, it was just an ordinary motion. Gojo wasn’t trying to show off. He clearly was someone to show off all the time, but at that moment, he wasn’t.

And yet — it felt that air was knocked off your lungs.

You weren’t expecting blue.

As blue as a summer sky. As blue as the ocean. There wasn’t a mix of gray or green; it was pure blue. Aquamarine, sapphire, topaz. The bluest you’d ever seen. A color you didn’t even know a human could naturally possess.

Long white eyelashes framed those eyes. Not having the blindfold to hinder it anymore, his white strands fell over his forehead like a charming cascade.

You were seeing him for real in that moment. And the first thing you noticed was how young he truly looked.

Albeit unexpected — shocking — those eyes were harmonious with the rest of his features. It… it made sense, in a way.

He was beautiful.

You had wondered what he’d look like without that thing. You’d come to the conclusion that there was no way he’d be ugly. But this? This hit you like a bullet train at full speed.

Some neurons passed out.

Gojo had a serene, focused expression. Not once did he look at your face; he was focused on the bracelet, holding the chain between his index and thumb, taking care to not touch your skin. You didn’t know what the hell he was doing — until you felt a strange chilling sensation on your wrist and you finally looked down. The bracelet was wrapped in a strange blue aura that almost made you jump in fright. The “aura” looked similar to that black fire from before… except, well, it was blue.

It took probably thirty seconds. The aura extinguished. Gojo stepped back and smiled.

Shit shit shit shit it looks even more infuriating without the blindfold—

“It’s working!” He chuckled and put his hands on his hips. “Damn, I’m so smart, it’s insane—”

Gojo looked at your face for the first time.

It made heat creep up your neck.

It also made his expressions look much more clear. He widened his eyes (so blue!!) as if surprised for a second. Then—

He narrowed them, his smile twisting in an evil, cocky smirk.

“You’re a pervert, Mori.”

The first thing you noticed was that it was the first time (was it?) that he called you by your name.

The second is that your nose was bleeding.

You pinched it again, immediately turning your head down. Your entire face was burning.

“Whad dhe fuck?!” You exclaimed. “Why is id happening again?!”

Gojo was laughing. Cackling, loud and clear, holding his stomach, as if that was the funniest shit he’d ever seen.

“Can’t take a look at these baby blues and you already gettin’ a nosebleed, sweetheart?!” He tilted down to meet your gaze again, and you hated hated hated hated hated how ridiculously pretty he looked like that, mocking you. “Now I’m worried about living under the same roof as you! Gotta keep my door locked at night!”

“Shud up! I deed ice!” You walked towards the house again, not without whacking his arm in the way. “I could be dying right dow and you’re here laughing!”

“What’s happening?” Mayu popped from the sliding back doors. She took a look at Gojo’s face and huffed. “Of course they’re blue.”

“I know you’re jealous, Mayu-chan.” He sent her a flying kiss and hit the stupid flower face pose like the fool he is.

You ignored everyone and ran towards the kitchen to take some tissues and put ice under your nose, scared to stain his millionaire placket flooring with your blood.

Shit.

This was going to be a long stay.

A/N: - Gege said that Gojo's teleportation needs specific conditions to work, but he never elaborated which so I decided to make up the conditions!! YAY

ALSO, if you read my other fic Aurora you'll recognize where the bracelet thing came from LOL I'm stealing ideas from my own fics and I'm NOT ASHAMED

Next chapter!! We're going back to work!! How is their routine going to be? Will Fushiguro adapt to their presence? Who the fuck is after her?? I DON'T KNOW!!

As usual, feedback is much appreciated 🙏 See you!

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 3

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: The fic worms are eating my brain. I had three other fics to update but I'm so excited about this one that I just wrote this ch instead lmaooo Enjoy! <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

You were incapable of understanding words anymore.

That part of your brain had shut down. Your neurons were yelling and running around desperately as their workplace was on fire.

You stared at him. He stared back.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. You can come live with me.”

It still didn’t make sense. Like everything else that happened that day.

He was crouched down to your eye level. Smiling as if he had proposed something completely inside the scope of what’s considered normal. As if he had said “Let’s order pizza for dinner” instead of whatever it meant.

“Live with you?”

Gojo nodded. Still smiling. Why was he still smiling? “Yep!”

One of your neurons stopped for a moment. Processed what he said. Understood it. And then went back to yelling and running in circles.

You got up in a jump.

“Are you insane?!” Now you were walking around nervously too. Away from him. Gojo hummed and turned around, still crouching over his one kilometer legs.

“I’m pretty sane against all odds.”

“You can’t just… ask me to live with you!”

“Why not?” He pouted. One of your neurons stopped running and stared at his glossy plump lips in awe, before being pushed over by another panicked neuron. “The house’s pretty big! We got enough rooms for everybody!”

“Why not?! Well, for starters, I don’t even know you!” You crossed your arms protectively.

Gojo giggled and stood up straight. Damn, he’s tall, one of the neurons noticed again as its colleague’s head was on fire. He put his hands inside the pockets of his pants and tilted his head slightly.

“Don’t get emotional, sweetheart. I know I’m irresistible, but this isn’t a marriage proposal. I’m just saying you can come live in my house.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You pointed at him angrily. More neurons head’s caught fire. “I met you this morning. You saved me — thank you, by the way — but I don’t know what type of person you are! I don’t know anything about you, actually, besides the fact that you’re a sorcerer-teacher-whatever and that you got reeeeally sensitive eyes.” He giggled at your mocking impression of his voice. A neuron tripped over and fell flat on the floor.

Gojo hummed and shrugged. “Well. I really didn’t introduce myself.” He offered you a hand. “Name’s Gojo Satoru. Sorcerer-teacher-whatever, at your service. Extremely reliable, extremely strong, and extremely good looking — but you already noticed that.” You were under the impression he would’ve winked if that thing wasn’t covering his eyes.

You scrapped the heel of your tennis over the concrete floor nervously. “I don’t— I still don’t get why. It just sounds way too drastic and unrealistic.”

It makes you look even more like a creep is what you really wanted to say.

“I’ve explained to you already, honey boo—”

“I have a name.”

“—you’re out of options. You told granny to fuck off. You don’t wanna be a sorcerer, which, you know, understandable, but there’s still people hunting you out there, and they seem pretty keen on succeeding. There’s a big fat target over your head right now, and it won’t disappear until we get to the root of the problem. Now, you and your sister need protection.”

You scrapped your heel more nervously. One neuron was sitting in the corner, holding its chin with a pensive expression while everything else burned, muttering what he’s saying makes sense. But still — living with him? It was strange, sudden, awkward, like everything else that happened in the past ten hours or so.

In a normal setting, no one would accept to live with someone they met that morning — a really emotional lesbian would after the first date, a neuron noted, but you ignored it —, especially considering your situation. A woman with a teenage sister. Despite the looks, Gojo didn’t really feel like a creep in the worst sense of the word, but still. You barely knew him. Would you be safe around him? Would Mayu be safe?

You avoided his gaze. “I… I really don’t know—”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Your eyes snapped up. “What?”

“I’m serious. Your nose is bleeding.”

The neuron responsible for feeling when you had a runny nose was passed out on the floor in front of the control table.

You touched the space between your nose and your lips. Your fingertips came bloody.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled quietly. More was coming. You pinched your nose and kept your lead lowered. “Shid. I deed ice.”

Maybe looking down was a bad idea, because the moment you did, the world twirled.

“Wow, wow—” And then his hand was on your arm, supporting you before you could stumble and fall. Gojo pressed his palm on your forehead gently (Damn, his hand is big, one of the neurons noticed as its colleague’s head was still on fire) and hummed. “You got a fever, too. Not good.”

Fever? Were you feverish? Well, that’d explain why you thought the breeze was kinda cold despite the hellish temperature.

“I deed paracedamol—” You muttered a second before the world twirled again — with reason this time: your legs were off the floor. Gojo had carried you bridal style swiftly as if you had no weight once more. Not a single grunt of effort.

Okay, that was hot, one neuron said, nodding. Three other neurons stopped running to watch the scene and nodded. Yeah, totally, uh-huh.

“To the infirmary we go,” he announced.

“I can sdill walk,” you tried whilst still pinching your nose.

Your stomach dropped. That feeling was familiar — he had done this, whatever it was, when he saved you. Space warped. Your brain felt like sludge inside your skull. And then—

You weren’t out in the open anymore, behind that shrine looking building. You were inside the infirmary in the blink of an eye.

A couple neurons committed suicide.

“Shoooookooo,” he sung. You tightened your eyes, bothered by the volume of his voice. It felt like hammers in your head. “You got a patient!”

He walked over to one of the hospital beds and put you sitting there with surprising care (That was hot, the group of neurons said in unison while nodding). You heard steps. There she was — doctor lady with the same tired face.

“My dose is bleeding,” you explained — and your doctor genes immediately kicked in. The will to explain everything going on with you in excruciating detail while trying to self diagnose at the same time.She hummed and took a couple of gauze; you immediately pressed it on your nose while still keeping your head down. It was a constant flow of blood. Felt horrible. “Got a god-awful headache since I woke up, too, and occasional dizziness. I feel like shit, so my blood pressure must’ve dropped. Also, huh, I think I don’t really sleep in over 30 hours now.”

“24 hour shift?” She asked.

“Yeah.”

“You guys are savages, interrogating and draggin’ her around after a full shift.” She sent a judging eye towards Gojo. Finally, someone’s on my side!, you thought tiredly (Wasn’t she interrogating us too?, one neuron asked, frowning). He turned his lips downwards and put his palms up in a surrendering gesture. She pointed towards the door. “Outta my infirmary now.”

“Okaaay.” Gojo shrugged and walked out obediently.

“D’you have occasional nosebleed?” Doctor lady (Gojo said her name, right? What was her name…?) asked while offering a thermometer which you promptly put under your arm.

“No.”

She tightened her eyes. “Weird.”

You brushed the gauze under your nose for a moment before pressing it once more. “I guess I went over my exhaustion limit today.”

The thermometer beeped. She took it: 38,6º of fever. Not good.

“There’s that, too, but you got something else going on. Lay down.”

You did. It felt nice to lay down, even in the uncomfortable hospital bed.

She threw the gauze in the trash can nearby, put gloves on and made you put your arms on your sides. You thought she was going to check your vitals (she hadn’t checked your blood pressure, which was already weird), but the brunette did something else.

She put one hand over your chest and one over your stomach.

Closed her eyes for a moment. Silent. Focused.

The neurons stared at her altogether, forgetting the fire around them for a moment. What the fuck?

The hand over your stomach went up, slowly. Now both were over your chest. She opened her eyes and nodded.

“Yep. That’s it.”

You couldn’t hide your weirded out expression.

“Uh… may I ask what’s going on?”

“It’s exhaustion,” she explained absently. “But it’s also your body adjusting to the sudden burst of cursed energy.”

Some neurons had a stroke. Others went back to screaming and running.

“It’s not that uncommon. Happens when someone doesn’t use their cursed energy in a long time. Nanami had that, too, when he came back to business,” you didn’t know who the fuck Nanami was (though she muttered that last sentence more to herself than to you). “Cursed energy is like any part of your body, you know. It has to be exercised regularly. If it’s not, and then you suddenly use it to full force, you’ll get cramps.”

“I didn’t— I didn’t use it. I don’t know how.”

“Just ‘cause you don’t know how, doesn’t mean you didn’t.”

“But I—”

Wait.

Actually.

That moment, laying on the floor of the meat locker. When you “caught fire” and the papers — seals — burned.

“I think I did.” You confessed quietly. She nodded with a knowing little smile.

“Yeah. Now, let me focus…”

She closed her eyes again. Now, one palm was at the top of your head.

You still thought that was weird.

Then you felt it.

It felt cold at first, as if you had frost injected in your veins. It felt uncomfortable… until it didn’t anymore. Your body was light as if you were flowing with the calm, cold current of a crystal clear river.

The headache was gone. Your legs didn’t feel like jelly anymore. You felt the fever dissipate as if she had taken it into her bare hands and thrown away in the trash can with the bloody gauze.

No more than three minutes later, she stepped away.

“Feel better?”

You stared up at her in awe.

All the neurons had their jaws dropped.

“How— Did— Huh?!” Was all you could mutter.

She shrugged while throwing the disposable gloves in the trash can. “You can sit, but I’m not done with you yet.”

You did. Slowly. More neurons had strokes.

You’d experienced more weirdness in the past hours than in your entire life. This, however, was what truly changed your worldview.

That woman healed you in minutes with magic.

This type of thing was simply possible? It just casually exist in this world? What was the point of our profession, then? What was the point of years of med school, of hospitals? If she could heal people with her hands, why was she hidden inside this school? Why hadn’t she won a Nobel Prize? Why hadn’t she cured cancer or AIDS worldwide—?

“I know what you thinking,” she came back holding a platter with a few pills and a plastic cup filled with water. “What I just did only works for sorcerers. Normal people can’t be healed like that. So don’t freak out.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t hold back that sigh of relief. “I was freaking out.”

“Figured.” She smiled again. She pointed at the pills. “This one’s to help regulate your cursed energy circulation. This one’s to help ease your inflamed body. This one’s paracetamol. And this one will knock you out for some good hours.”

“Right.” Normal you would’ve taken your time to ask the exact name of each medicament, but you didn’t have it in you at that moment — and you’d trust the woman who healed you with her bare hands with your eyes shut. You took the first pill and swallowed it. “Thank you…”

“Ieiri Shoko at your service. Chief doctor of Jujutsu High.” She offered a kind, tired smile. Ieiri eyed your uniform and the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital logo embroidered over the left side of your chest. “Resident?”

“Yeah.”

“How long in?”

“Two years in September. Emergency.”

“Oof. I knew it. I can spot an adrenaline junkie from miles.” You both chuckled. She leaned on the bed while you took the second pill. “Pretty hard to get accepted in the Metropolitan, eh? You must have a great resume.”

“Well. Kind of.” You shrugged absently. Having graduated at a prestigious international med school helped. Having a cardiologist father in your ear for most of your studying years helped, too. You tightened your eyes at Ieiri for a moment. She was about your age, but already a chief doctor? Even if she began med school earlier, she still wouldn’t have finished a residency yet. “Where’d you take your residency?”

“Oh, I didn’t. Just straight to business. Jujutsu High didn’t have time to wait for me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I wasn’t planning to work with public health care anyway. My thing was always with sorcery, but I still needed a degree.”

You swallowed the paracetamol, barely containing your excitement. “So… what did you do to me exactly?”

“Reverse cursed energy.” She said flatly. Yeah, that explains everything. Ieiri sighed. “Cursed energy is negative energy, so in order to heal, you have to multiply it over itself to create positive energy…”

It felt that your headache was coming back. All of your neurons had gathered on a strike, holding plates and pitchforks, shouting angrily at you: WE WANT TO REST!! NO MORE SORCERY BULLSHIT!!

You scowled and scratched your head.

“I think I took too much info for a day. Promise I’ll come bother you any other time to try to understand what the hell you’re saying.” Ieiri let a tired chuckle.

“Yeah, you have a ton of things to try to understand. Like why no one suspected you had cursed energy before, and why it manifested all of sudden.” She tightened her eyes at you, and for a moment, you felt like a lab rat being thoroughly analyzed. “I could run some tests on you to find out if you have a pathological condition of some sort…”

“Right.” I’m not so sure about that.

“So. Like I said, this pill will knock you out. You need a place to sleep. Are you staying in the school?”

This made you remember the other problem you were dealing with.

“Hm… I was told me and my sister could spend the night here. But after that…”

You eyed Ieiri.

She obviously knew Gojo, though you didn’t know how close they were. Still better than nothing. A woman, on top of that, to give you some solid opinions.

“Gojo explained we can’t stay here much longer.” You began, paying close attention to her reactions. “So… he offered us his house for the time being.”

She widened her eyes slightly.

“He did?” You nodded. Ieiri shrugged. “It’s a good option.”

That took you by surprise.

You frowned and leaned towards her slightly. “Is it, really?” You dropped your voice, scared he was still out there, listening. “I mean— I don’t know him at all. I don’t even understand why he’d propose this in the first place.”

“I bet he feels responsible.”

“Why would he feel responsible? He’s got nothing to do with it.” You crossed your arms. “We met this morning. Do you sorcerers feel responsible like this over everybody?”

It was Ieiri’s turn to frown. “He’s got everything to do with it. You can pierce his Infinity. I’d place all my bets that that’s the reason why they put a reward on your head in the first place.” At your utter confused expression, she sighed. “Sorry. I forgot you don’t know… it’s so weird to meet someone that doesn’t.” She placed the platter over the bed beside you and crossed her arms. “Look. If he offered you this, it means you’re not joining Jujutsu High. So this is your best chance. Gojo might be an idiot, but he’s not a creep. And he’s pretty dependable despite everything.”

You intertwined your fingers over your lap. “He said the school is the safest place in the world for me and my sister.”

“The safest place in the world is anywhere he’s at.”

That took you by surprise.

Ieiri didn’t look like the type of person who would say that about anyone.

It made you wonder: who exactly was Gojo Satoru?

She sighed again and took the platter. “You had enough for today. Here, take the pill. You need to sleep right now or you’ll get another fever.”

“But… you said it’d knock me out—”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. No one will hurt you here.”

A part of you didn’t want to. You wanted answers. You wanted to find out everything weird and wrong about you, the people after you, your mother, your technique— and you wanted everything at that moment.

But you truly had enough for a day.

So you took the pill — even though you didn’t expect it’d actually knock you out two minutes after you swallowed it.

It led you to a deep, dreamless, well deserved sleep.

All your neurons celebrated.

Mayu had her leg over you.

She always did, ever since she was 4 and would crawl up your bed in the middle of the night because she had a nightmare. It didn’t bother you back then, but she was big now. You could bet she’d be taller than you before the year ended. And you were both laying on a single bed. She was almost pushing you off the bed, actually.

There was a mattress on the floor. You wondered if they’d offered her a different room, but she asked to sleep with you anyway. She must’ve crawled up the bed the same way she did when she was four.

This made your heart ache.

Mayu just acted nonchalant. She was also scared of what happened to your home.

After long minutes of contemplating the ceiling, you sighed and got off the bed slowly to not wake her up (not that it was hard — a bomb could drop over her head and she would not wake up). You sat on the mattress with your legs crossed and let the gears in your mind fully turn. After sleeping so much, the gears were polished with machine oil and were turning smoothly. The neurons had swept the floor, mopped it with an aromatic detergent that smelled of lemon. The control room was pristine clean.

Which didn’t mean you were okay, of course. Just more rational.

You both were inside a simple, yet spacious dorm room. Sunlight entered through a breach on the curtains, birds chirped a relaxing melody. Your phone lit up with life again as you put it on the charger: the screen showed, 6:21, July 19th, Sunday. The notification bar was overloaded with even more texts and missed calls. You ignored everyone.

You had many decisions to make. Life-changing ones. And many topics to discuss. But you also smelled of unwashed ass and your panties were way past the expiration date, so a shower had to come first.

You hooked your backpack on your shoulder and left the room quietly.

At first, you hoped to find someone to give you directions, but the entirety of the dorm building was empty. Sure, it was still six in the morning of a Sunday, yet the fact that you couldn’t hear a sound was weird. If the whole place wasn’t pristine clean, you’d think it was abandoned. Regardless, it wasn’t hard to find the communal bathroom — again, empty.

You only remembered you hadn’t brought shampoo or hair conditioner when your head was already under the shower (first little inconvenience of the day). Then you checked the clothes you shoved absently inside the backpack: jeans pants and that grey oversized t-shirt with a giant Godzilla printed on — Ren’s t-shirt. The problem isn’t that the shirt was Ren’s, but that you knew it’d get super hot later and that wearing the shirt felt the same as wrapping yourself in a thermal blanket (second little inconvenience of the day). You didn’t even dare trying to untangle your hair in that state, so you just tied it into a bun, wet and all. You were an expert in buns. Your scalp cried a little every day.

You needed to eat. You also needed to smoke. You didn’t know if it was allowed to smoke inside the campus. Well, this place is dead empty, you thought. You lightened up a cigarette behind the dorm building in a pretty hidden spot, away from the windows. There’s no way anyone will see if I smoke a little.

Beeeeep. Wrong.

“Smokin’ ain’t allowed here, miss.”

You shrieked and almost dropped the cigarette.

A familiar mop of white hair was peeking at you from the corner.

Gojo approached with his already usual relaxed demeanor. Hands in the pockets of his jacket and all. Had he even slept?

Shit. I didn’t expect to meet him so early. I didn’t even really think about what I’ll tell him.

“My bad, I didn’t know.” You didn’t let go of the cigarette, however. You doubted he actually cared. You bowed your head in a small greeting. “Good morning.”

“Mornin’. Feel better?” He leaned his back on the wall beside you.

“Yes.”

“Shoko’s sleeping pills knocked you out, huh? You were acting funny, walking to the dorm. Bet you were already asleep.”

Oh. You didn’t even remember walking to the bedroom in the first place. “Yeah. I slept very well. I’ll see if she can give me a pack later.”

Gojo chuckled. “Careful with that! I slept, like, three days straight once because of these. She had to forcefully wake my brain ‘cause she was scared I was gonna die.”

You blew smoke, moving your face away from him (though the breeze was blowing in the opposite direction already. That’s why he chose that spot?) and a bit of a strange silence settled. You were nervous. You’d been nervous since you woke up.

You cleaned your throat. “I haven’t properly thanked you yet, have I?”

Gojo clicked his tongue and smiled handsomely. “Don’t mention it.” He waved his hand dismissively.

“No, you saved my life. I can’t not thank you.”

“It’s fine, really! That was any other day in the life of the great Gojo Satoru. No big deal for me.” He shrugged.

“Was a big deal for me.”

He hummed for a moment before opening a grin that made him look like an evil gremlin. “Okay, then. Show me your deep polite bow and your proper thank you.”

You stared at him with a blank expression.

You turned your head and blew more smoke. “Thanks.”

He gasped. “That’s your ‘proper thank you’?!”

“No, but you pissed me off.”

Gojo pouted and whined like a literal child who was denied something. “That’s not niiice. You put my expectations up there!”

He’s kinda funny, one half-asleep neuron noted. The colleague beside him nodded. You took another puff and told them to shut up.

“I talked to Ieiri-san yesterday,” you began in a quiet tone after a few beats of silence, blowing more smoke. “I said I didn’t understand why you’d feel responsible over me if you had nothing to do with it. She said you had everything to do with it.” You eyed him again, quirking one eyebrow up.

Gojo crossed his arms and whined again. His lips turned downwards. “D’you really wanna talk about that now? It’s six in the morning, man. My brain ain’t even really on yet.”

“Yes.” You said flatly.

He whined like an old man now. So he whines like a child when he’s disappointed and like an old man when he’s doing something he doesn’t want to. The neuron rapidly scribbled this information in its notebook.

“To put it simply,” he said while holding his chin. “Your technique completely nullifies mine. And that’s a problem.”

“A problem to who exactly…?”

“To me. Duh. And to everybody else in extent.” He smirked cheekily. “I’m pretty important, you know? Lots and lots of guys tryin’ to take me down.”

One more puff. You tightened your eyes at him. You did see Gojo blow up a ceiling, fly, freaking teleport, twist limbs at will. Shoko stated you’d be safe with him. The kidnappers looked scared of him. But still — it didn’t make that much sense why you would be targeted.

“Who are ‘guys’?” You blew more smoke. “D’you go around pissing everyone off?”

“Yep. Pissing people off is what I’m best at.” He shrugged. He did look proud of himself.

“Doesn’t sound like appropriate behavior for a teacher. What kinda role model is that?”

“A doctor smoking, what kinda role model is that?”

Gojo cackled unabashedly at your angry scowl. A couple of neurons giggled with him. You told them to shut up.

“Okay. So my technique is Extinguishment.” You began, gesticulating with the cigarette still between your fingers. “And it works against yours.” He nodded. “D’you offer everyone who can counter your technique housing and protection?”

He cackled again. “Hah, of course not. No one can counter my technique, sweetheart. Well. Except you.”

You stared at him in silence again.

It didn’t look like he was joking.

You pushed yourself off the wall to face him. “No one?”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I’ve been in the business for long enough to be sure.”

One more puff. The cigarette was almost finished. “Okay. But even if I have this thing, I don’t know how to use it. How’s it gonna work against you?” You exhaled more smoke. “Even better question: why would I make it work against you? You seem pretty chill despite everything. I wouldn’t wanna take you down, or whatever.”

Gojo clasped his hands together and tilted his head to the side. “Awww. I’m pretty chill? That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle this time whilst rolling your eyes. “Answer the question.”

He put his clasped hands over his stomach. Gojo was still smiling, but his tone got a bit more serious. “There are curse users with mind controlling techniques. There are ways to copy or steal a technique as well. Or they could simply make you work for them through torture.” He shrugged. “They wouldn’t be so scandalous with your kidnapping if they weren’t sure they’d make good use of it. So everything leads me to believe they know how to… and if they get a chance, they will.”

A chill ran up and down your spine.

The few minutes you spent conscious in that meat locker. The way katana man pulled you by the hair and was about to slap you, or punch you, by the movement of his hand, a second before Gojo burst through the ceiling.

Gojo pushed himself off the wall as well and shoved his hands inside the pockets of the jacket again. He kicked a pebble away absently.

“Orrrr they want you to break some seal, free some curse. These are possibilities too. Who knows?” He shrugged once more. “The dudes haven’t opened their mouths yet, but I doubt they’re the only ones after you, or the only ones whoever’s really after you sent. To summarize: you’re in real trouble, sweetheart.”

“I have a name.” You whined again through gritted teeth, though this barely bothered you given the gravity of what he just said. “The three kidnappers are alive?”

“For now.” Another chill ran down your spine.

You hadn’t really really grasped the concept of the ‘why me’ part. Now it was loud and fucking clear. The people after you were willing to torture you to get what they wanted. Went as far as invading your home. They probably already knew about Mayu or even Aunt Junko at this point. The mere thought made your shiver yet again.

Ieiri’s words echoed in your mind.

The safest place in the world is anywhere he’s at.

The last puff. You savored the smoke in your tongue before blowing it. Your head went down when you started to walk in circles again.

“So— how’s this gonna work? You said you were okay with me keeping my residency, but— what if they pop up in the hospital again? What happens if they take me on the way to work? I— I don’t have a fixed schedule. I take weekly 24 hour shifts, I work extra, my days off are random, I—”

He leaned down to your eye level.

Quickly. You didn’t even notice him approaching.

The words got caught in your throat.

“Sooo you’re coming with me?” Why did he sound excited?

“Well, yeah? You said yourself that I don’t have other options.” Uh. That sounded kind of rude. You cleaned your throat. “I mean— thank you for even offering in the first place. I hope it won’t cause you any trouble—”

He fisted the air and leaned away.

“Yayyyy! This is gonna be soo fun!”

You were baffled.

“You just said there’s people wanting to torture me. What’s funny about this?”

“Tsk. Details!”

“What about what I just said? About my work schedule—?”

“One step at a time, sweetheart! Let’s wake Megumi and Mayu-chan—”

He was turning around already — and you wouldn’t reach him fast with his one kilometer legs — so you touched his arm on instinct. “Wait—”

Gojo flinched.

Like a cat.

He turned around in a jump. If it weren’t for the blindfold, you were sure he’d have his eyes widened.

There was something a bit uncanny in seeing a man that big getting scared so easily.

You retracted your arm. Gojo himself seemed a bit taken aback by his own reaction. Or you thought so, that fucking blindfold made it difficult to read him.

“Uh…” Don’t make it awkward, you told yourself. “Mayu. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Gojo recovered much faster than you. He was grinning again. “Don’t worry, sweetheart! I have it all planned out!” And then he turned around again.

“I have a name!”

You found out Fushiguro lived with Gojo the same moment he found out you were going to live with them.

So Gojo is his legal guardian. Now Fushiguro’s involvement with the whole thing made sense. It also felt like a very weird coincidence.

Well.

Fushiguro wasn’t happy with it.

Probably because Gojo banged on his door at six in the morning. Mayu was barely awake, holding the fat demon in her arms.

“We’re all gonna live together!” He chirped to the other barely awake teenager.

The two of them really woke up at the moment.

“What?!” Fushiguro exclaimed. You’d never seen him talk this loud.

“Why?!” Mayu exclaimed. That wasn’t the loudest she could get. You were mildly disappointed.

Gojo pointed at Fushiguro. “You know why.” Gojo pointed at Mayu. “You’re both on witness protection service now.”

Mayu tightened her eyes at you. “What did you do?”

“That’s your reaction?” You were mildly offended.

“Nuh-huh, no questions, Mayu-chan! Your sister’s case is under judicial secrecy!”

“For how long?” Fushiguro looked either about to vomit or jump out the window again.

“Until her case’s settled!” Gojo put both hands together close to his face in somewhat of a praying pose. “C’moooon, Megumi! It’s gonna be fun!”

No one was having fun. Not even you. Knowing there were, you know. People trying to torture you and all.

Countess meowed one of her old lady raspy meows.

Gojo pointed at the demon and looked at you. “This is how you gonna sound in five years if you don’t quit smokin’.”

“Countess is hungry.” Mayu said, ignoring Gojo and the way you glared at him.

“The cat’s coming too?” Fushiguro asked in a constipated voice. He looked constipated. Or about to vomit. Or about to jump out the window.

Mayu’s head whipped in his direction at the speed of light. “Of course she’s coming. Got a problem with that?”

“Yes, I got a problem with that. I don’t like cats.”

Mayu looked about to bite his face off. Fushiguro looked about to square up. Or about to vomit. Or about to jump out the window.

Gojo slapped the back of his head, making him go ouch!. “Be nice, Megumi! Of course the cat’s coming. They can’t abandon her on the street.”

“I’m not gonna clean cat poop.” He crossed his arms like a child.

“No one’s asking you to clean her poop, jackass—”

You elbowed her side. She winced. Countess hissed. “Don’t talk to him like that.”

Gojo clapped his hands. “Great! Let’s move! We got a lot to do!”

You all swallowed breakfast and in half an hour were squeezed in the car. Again.

Fushiguro had earphones on now, angrily staring out the window with such intensity that he might be able to break the glass with the power of his mind. Mayu was half asleep. You were, again, in the middle, like a child. The driver— (Ijichi, Ijichi, Ijichi, his name’s Ijichi) looked pretty disposed against all odds. Of course he was a morning person. Gojo had the decency to not pump loud music, at least.

Mayu widened her eyes all of sudden and turned to you. “What about my date?!”

“What?”

“My date with Kiku on Wednesday. What about my date?!”

“This is what you’re worried about?” You might be able to blow her brain with the power of your mind at that moment. “We’re both on witness protection service and that’s what you’re worried about?”

Gojo sighed. “Mayu-chan knows what’s good. Priorities!”

“Mind your business, will you?” You punched the back of his seat. He giggled.

“That’s a valid question!” Mayu tried to defend herself.

You rolled your eyes and sunk on the seat, deciding to simply not deal with her at that moment. It was time to answer the tons of messages. Remi was calling you very bad names. Some colleagues showed polite worry. You boss — fuck, what would you tell your boss?! — texted, too. And Aunt Junko—

“Oh, my God. D’you talk to Aunt Junko?” You asked while dialing her number and gluing the phone to your ear.

“Yeah, but you know how she is.”

Shit shit shit. How could you leave the hypertensive 64 year old unanswered?!

“Hi? Good morning, Auntie!” She picked up on the second ring, which made your heart tighten with guilt. “Yeah, I’m so sorry. My phone— my phone died and I couldn’t call you. No, I’m fine! Oh, you saw— you saw on TV? Yeah. Yeah, there was an accident. It’s fine. I wasn’t— I wasn’t injured or anything. It’s fine. No, Auntie— the hospital didn’t blow up. It was a small explosion. Yeah, I still have my job.” Or at least you hoped so. “Yeah. How about you? Are you okay? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for worrying you. Yeah, Mayu’s fine. She’s right here. She’s—”

You paused.

Slowly, you turned to her, your face hardening like stone.

She shrunk.

“Oh. She did?” Mayu avoided your gaze. “Oooh. That’s great to hear. Thanks for telling me.”

Gojo chuckled quietly.

“I’ll call you later, ‘kay, Auntie? Promise I’ll have dinner with you soon. Yeah. God bless you, too. Bye.”

You slammed your forearm against her neck and pressed her head on the window.

“You went to Shinjuku!”

Fushiguro jumped. Ijichi shrieked.

“Stop that!” Mayu tried, frightened.

“You little shit, you went to the festival behind my back! You lied to me! You lied to Aunt!”

“I didn’t— I wasn’t—”

“Oh, so what’s your excuse gonna be?!”

Mayu gulped. “She’s bullying me! Help!”

Gojo chuckled. Fushiguro tried his best to pretend to not be interested. Ijichi shrieked.

“Did you drink? Did you drink?!”

“No!” You kept staring. “Okay— maybe I took a sip from a friend—”

“You took a sip?!” You huffed and threw your arms up. “You are fourteen years old!”

“Don’t act like you never did it when you were my age!” She crossed her arms defensively. “Didn’t you do it too when you were my age, Mr. Blindfold?”

Gojo shook his head vehemently. “Leave me out of this, Mayu-chan!”

“The sip you took could’ve been from a spiked drink! You don’t drink from other’s people’s cups! You’re being an idiot, and I didn’t teach you to be an idiot!” You swiftly took her phone from her hand.

“Hey!”

“That’s for lying to me, Mayuka.”

Gojo hissed. “Called by the government name. It got serious.”

It was her turn to punch the back of his seat. “Mind your business!”

Gojo giggled.

What a beautiful start of your day.

A little bit before eight, you got to your apartment.

You had to file a police report, obviously, due to the break-in. Gojo found a way to fasten the process. Gojo also had already hired a moving company (you wondered what he’d do if you had said no, as that was obviously arranged before you complied). Regardless, there were already boxes and three guys to help take all the stuff downstairs.

The work started.

The apartment was a mess. Some things were broken beyond repair. It was a bit depressing to see that expensive blender broken on the kitchen’s floor, or that full body mirror shattered (why are mirrors so freaking expensive?), or that limited edition Flower Knows eyeshadow palette destroyed on your bedroom’s floor (that made a couple of neurons hold a formal funeral in the corner). Yet, you decided to push the auto-pilot lever up, because if you stopped for a second to think about why everything was happening, you’d feel actually sad. And you couldn’t be sad. That’s what highly functional adults do — they repress every bit of feeling in order to work.

Right?

You were frenetic, walking around the apartment and giving orders like a general. Put the clothes in the suitcases and the black bags. No, this is trash. Please, careful with that. Put the kitchen utensils right here. Mayu, write in these boxes. I think there’s a sharpie in the kitchen. No, the second drawer. I can take these, it’s fine. Thank you, Ijichi.

Despite the grimace, Fushiguro showed to be very helpful, carrying boxes with little to no effort. Ijichi struggled much more, but was very willing to help nevertheless. The only one not helping much was the white-haired bastard. You’d catch him leaning on places, scrolling down his phone, emptying your freaking fridge—

“You don’t need to take all the furniture, sweetheart. Our house is pretty well equipped.”

He looked (“looked”) up from his phone to meet your angry gaze. Your forehead was sweaty, you had pushed the sleeves of the t-shirt up (thermal blanket), you wanted to slap him.

“I have a name.”

“The more you complain about it, the less I feel like calling you by your name, sweetheart.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I thought I was pretty chill.” He pouted dramatically. Some neurons giggled. You rolled your eyes and took another box in your arms. “You got decent stamina for a smoker. I thought you’d be coughing your lungs out already.”

“I exercise regularly.” Okay. Maybe regularly was a stretch. Your work schedule didn’t allow you to do anything regularly. But yeah, you could jog a few respectable kilometers without passing out. “What’d you want me to do about my furniture? I can’t throw it all away. It’s not like we’ll live there forever.”

“One step at a tiiiime. We can figure it out later. Now, just pack what matters the most. Also, your car— it’s gotta go.”

You put the box on the floor again.

“Why my car?!”

“’Cause they much obviously already got the license plate. Duh. It’ll be like driving around a carnival car with giant neon arrows pointing at you like I’m here!! Pleeease kidnap me!!”

Your shoulders dropped and you sighed in defeat. You didn’t want to. That car was an achievement. You got it less than a year ago. It didn’t matter that it was a second-hand (third-hand? Fourth-hand?) 2010 Alto, it was still your car and you liked it.

Gojo grumbled quietly. You looked up to him again.

“Or you can just keep it hidden in the garage, I guess.” He scratched the back of his head.

A smile immediately crept up your lips. “Thanks.”

He smiled back.

A few neurons giggled.

You crouched to take the box again. “If you’re not gonna help, at least don’t stand in the way, sweetheart.”

Gojo huffed. “How am I not helping? I’m doing security full time!”

It was past three in the afternoon when everything essential got packed and inside the back of the truck. You hadn’t had lunch yet, but you were so worked up that your stomach hadn’t complained yet.

Especially — most of your bodily functions were brushed aside the moment you parked in front of the place you’d live in for the foreseeable future.

Look.

In Tokyo, space equals wealth.

It’s a crumpled city. Too many people, too little space. Cars are small, apartments are small, trains are packed, traffic is heavy. The simple fact that you found a two bedroom apartment close to a subway station was already a miracle (an expensive miracle), and in all honesty, it wasn’t even that tiny. Your salary wasn’t the highest it could get yet as you were still a resident, but it couldn’t be considered bad (and luckily, you were paid extra to work those 24 hour shifts, which boosted your income. Not all hospitals were willing to pay for it). Nevertheless, you were aware of how much that apartment cost you.

So when you realized that the car was getting into Meguro of all places, your stomach dropped.

You and Mayu stood side by side on the sidewalk. Both speechless.

“There’s a yard,” she noted.

“Yes.”

“And trees.”

“Yes.”

“And two floors.”

“Yes.”

She looked at you.

“Why didn’t you tell me Blindfold-san was rich?”

You gulped. “I didn’t know, either.”

Because owning a house like that could only mean wealth.

The house was surrounded by walls high enough to prevent passersby to see anything inside; the trees in the property made it even more impossible. It didn’t look like a new construction — not in a “it’s an old house” way, but in a generational wealth way. It had that traditional slanted tiled roof and shoji-style windows that could only mean oh, my peepaw built this house back in the sixties when he founded the family’s enterprises.

There was a dark marble plate above the mail box with a very elegant “五条” carved on it.

Jesus.

You crossed the opening gates. The front yard had the greenest grass you’d ever seen, a stone trail leading to the entrance of the house, and on your left—

“A koi pond,” Mayu gasped quietly. “A freaking koi pond.”

“I saw it, Mayu.” You gasped quietly back.

Surprisingly, the inside didn’t look like a sterile Instagram house, neither it had over the top decoration. It looked like a lived in house. And yet, the luxury was there: it was quiet, in the way the furniture was made of ebony (again — it didn’t look like it was bought recently; it had been there for a while, as high quality materials like that are also generational), the small indoor garden, the very well equipped and large kitchen. The living room was huge. It had a freaking sofa pit (that seemed a bit more recent) with the biggest fucking TV you’d ever seen. It also had the biggest DVD collection you’d ever seen. Mayu gagged at the amount of game consoles on the TV stand.

The house had five bedrooms total. Three bathrooms. One of the bedrooms was on the first floor; they were using it as some sort of storage room, so it had a lot of stuff inside. The rest was up there. The rooms had tatami floor, large windows, built-in wardrobes…

You were impressed and a bit intimidated, to say the least.

And to remember I was worried about Fushiguro back then. He’s much better off than me.

While you were taking boxes out of the truck, you pulled Mayu when you finally got some time alone.

“Mayu. Listen.” You began in a hushed voice. “This is not our house, okay? So don’t be messy. If you break something, I will break your neck. And most important — don’t bother Fushiguro-kun. I already told you about what he’s going through.”

One of the bedrooms on the second floor had its door closed permanently. With an ache in your heart, you figured that was Tsumiki’s.

Fushiguro was bothered, and you understood he was a teenager with a lot going on in his life. Unfortunately, you knew your younger sister and how annoying she could be.

Mayu tsked and groaned. “I knooow. I’m not a monster, okay?” She crossed her arms. “But if he mistreats Countess, he’ll have to deal with me.”

“I’m more worried about the demon eating his fish.”

“Ladiiiiies!”

Both you and Mayu jumped, startled.

Gojo had paper bags in his hands and a large smile. “Let’s have lunch!”

You remembered you were hungry.

He bought large bento boxes for everyone, which honestly? Very kind. Gojo insisted everyone gathered in the tatami room to eat (why he was so excited about this whole thing was still a mystery to you). Fushiguro was quiet all throughout, though this time he figured that he was just more focused on eating than talking. Gojo and Mayu didn’t shut up for a second. Even Ijichi looked a bit happier and relaxed.

You talked a bit as well, but decided to remain quiet.

You had a tatami room back in Kyoto too.

Smaller than this one, sure. But sunlight illuminated the whole place through the sliding doors as well. It always smelled of ocha because you dripped a full teapot on the floor once. You’d always gather there to eat or play board games. It was one of the things you missed the most when you left. You remember telling mom how it’d be nice to come back someday after Mayu was born. How it’d be great to dine, the four of you, in a tatami room again.

It was just you and Mayu now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat with the food.

“You done eating?” Gojo asked after a while.

“Yes.” You were brought back to reality by his voice.

“Great! C’mere, I wanna show you something.”

The two of you left the room alone. His blue slippers were fucking huge, you noted. Just like his feet. And the rest of him.

Gojo just talked again when you were outside.

“A couple things I wanna explain about the house,” he began with his usual carefree tone. “We got regular CCTV. Alarms and all. But we got sorcery security too, and since your technique nullifies anything, I want to show you where they are… so you don’t go touching stuff and releasing seals by accident.”

“Right.”

North, South, East, West — he showed you the exact places they were. Four big objects that resembled nails, hidden between the trees and bushes, wrapped in seals.

“What exactly are those?”

“A type of permanent curtain.” As if you knew what the fuck a curtain was. “Sets anyone with unauthorized cursed energy signature on fire.”

Your eyes widened. “You serious?”

“Yep.” It didn’t look like he was joking. “Also lets me know if there’s an intruder.” Gojo waved for you to follow him to the back of the house. “Something else I don’t want you to touch.”

A tree. The largest in the yard, and apparently, the oldest. He pointed to the thick trunk: near the base, you spotted a kanji engraved. The carving was old, a bit worn out with time, but you could read it; “根”. Root, literally.

“What’s that for?”

“My anchor.” Gojo scratched his cheek with his index finger. “It’s for long distance teleportation. I need anchors, you know? So, pretty please, do not get anywhere near this tree.”

The way this man talked about burning people alive and teleportation so casually was increasing your possibilities of having a stroke very fast.

He twirled in your direction again with his signature excited grin, clasping his hands together. “Also! I have a gift for you! Get excited!!” You didn’t move. His grin dropped. “If you don’t get excited, I ain’t giving it.”

Gojo was met with the biggest smile you’d opened in the past 72 hours. You clasped your hands, mimicking his own stupid pose. “Pleeease, I want to know what it is!!”

He was taken aback.

“How’d you do that?”

“Years of calming patients.” Your smile dropped as fast as it came.

“That’s scary.”

“What about the gift?”

“Oh. Right.” He smiled again and took a small velvet box from his pocket. “It’s not what it seems! I know you love me, but this isn’t a proposal yet.” You chuckled. Fuck.

Gojo opened the black box to reveal a silver bracelet. It had a thick snake chain design. Very simple, that kind of bracelet intended to be decorated with little charms.

“This is a test, in fact,” he explained whilst taking the bracelet from the box. “From what it seems, you nullify anything you touch. So I hid an anchor inside the chain; a tiny piece of paper. I want to see if it still works if it’s not in contact with your skin.”

Gojo unclasped it with ease and waited for you to offer your wrist, which you did. And then it happened again. The way he seemed to shiver when his fingers touched you, even if it was brief and featherlight.

This reaction of his was starting to make you curious.

“You want to put an anchor on me?”

“Well, of course. If anything happens and I’m not around, I’ll be able to get to you in a second. Aren’t I amazing?” He grinned cheekily. You wouldn’t boast his already huge ego, but you, in fact, thought he was amazing. Probably because you didn’t know any of this sorcery shit even existed yesterday morning. Anything he did was impressive. “Now be quiet for a moment, I need to activate it first.”

His hand moved towards the blindfold.

All of your neurons froze in place.

You hadn’t noticed how truly anxious you were to see what the hell was under there until that moment. Your body reacted first. Your heartbeat increased, you gulped. He’s taking it off! He’s taking it off!

Maybe it was stupid how, in your perception, time moved in slow motion.

How the background — the yard, the trees — blurred.

He pushed the black blindfold down with his index finger. To him, it was just an ordinary motion. Gojo wasn’t trying to show off. He clearly was someone to show off all the time, but at that moment, he wasn’t.

And yet — it felt that air was knocked off your lungs.

You weren’t expecting blue.

As blue as a summer sky. As blue as the ocean. There wasn’t a mix of gray or green; it was pure blue. Aquamarine, sapphire, topaz. The bluest you’d ever seen. A color you didn’t even know a human could naturally possess.

Long white eyelashes framed those eyes. Not having the blindfold to hinder it anymore, his white strands fell over his forehead like a charming cascade.

You were seeing him for real in that moment. And the first thing you noticed was how young he truly looked.

Albeit unexpected — shocking — those eyes were harmonious with the rest of his features. It… it made sense, in a way.

He was beautiful.

You had wondered what he’d look like without that thing. You’d come to the conclusion that there was no way he’d be ugly. But this? This hit you like a bullet train at full speed.

Some neurons passed out.

Gojo had a serene, focused expression. Not once did he look at your face; he was focused on the bracelet, holding the chain between his index and thumb, taking care to not touch your skin. You didn’t know what the hell he was doing — until you felt a strange chilling sensation on your wrist and you finally looked down. The bracelet was wrapped in a strange blue aura that almost made you jump in fright. The “aura” looked similar to that black fire from before… except, well, it was blue.

It took probably thirty seconds. The aura extinguished. Gojo stepped back and smiled.

Shit shit shit shit it looks even more infuriating without the blindfold—

“It’s working!” He chuckled and put his hands on his hips. “Damn, I’m so smart, it’s insane—”

Gojo looked at your face for the first time.

It made heat creep up your neck.

It also made his expressions look much more clear. He widened his eyes (so blue!!) as if surprised for a second. Then—

He narrowed them, his smile twisting in an evil, cocky smirk.

“You’re a pervert, Mori.”

The first thing you noticed was that it was the first time (was it?) that he called you by your name.

The second is that your nose was bleeding.

You pinched it again, immediately turning your head down. Your entire face was burning.

“Whad dhe fuck?!” You exclaimed. “Why is id happening again?!”

Gojo was laughing. Cackling, loud and clear, holding his stomach, as if that was the funniest shit he’d ever seen.

“Can’t take a look at these baby blues and you already gettin’ a nosebleed, sweetheart?!” He tilted down to meet your gaze again, and you hated hated hated hated hated how ridiculously pretty he looked like that, mocking you. “Now I’m worried about living under the same roof as you! Gotta keep my door locked at night!”

“Shud up! I deed ice!” You walked towards the house again, not without whacking his arm in the way. “I could be dying right dow and you’re here laughing!”

“What’s happening?” Mayu popped from the sliding back doors. She took a look at Gojo’s face and huffed. “Of course they’re blue.”

“I know you’re jealous, Mayu-chan.” He sent her a flying kiss and hit the stupid flower face pose like the fool he is.

You ignored everyone and ran towards the kitchen to take some tissues and put ice under your nose, scared to stain his millionaire placket flooring with your blood.

Shit.

This was going to be a long stay.

A/N: - Gege said that Gojo's teleportation needs specific conditions to work, but he never elaborated which so I decided to make up the conditions!! YAY

ALSO, if you read my other fic Aurora you'll recognize where the bracelet thing came from LOL I'm stealing ideas from my own fics and I'm NOT ASHAMED

Next chapter!! We're going back to work!! How is their routine going to be? Will Fushiguro adapt to their presence? Who the fuck is after her?? I DON'T KNOW!!

As usual, feedback is much appreciated 🙏 See you!

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 2

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 11k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! Here we are for one more chapter!! Thank you so much for the comments on the 1st ch, they always make my day!! Enjoy <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

Girl, I had the weirdest dream tonight.

Yeah, so, I dreamed that I was working, right? And then I killed a mutant rat. Yeah, stepped on it. Pretty gross. Then out of sudden I woke up inside a meat locker, mummified – no, like, I didn’t jump any parts, I was kidnapped from the hospital and woke up there. No, I don’t know how that happened. Why mummified? There were paper tags all over my body, and I couldn’t move… it kinda felt like sleep paralysis. But then my body caught fire, like… spontaneous combustion, but I didn’t die, just the papers caught fire, and then I could move again… and some ugly guys showed up. But that’s not even the weirdest part – a guy popped up out of nowhere, literally floating, exploded the ceiling, dragged me around like a ragdoll, killed the other guys (he was blindfolded for some fucking reason, did I mention that?), and his hair was white–

The first thing you saw as soon as you opened your eyes was a mop of white hair.

That was enough to make you freak out.

You sat up abruptly – which made you dizzy and you almost fell when you jumped off the bed (a hospital bed? What?), and you probably squealed a little too, drawing a lot of attention to yourself.

“Hey, hey, hey! Calm down!” And then there was someone holding your arm – you hadn’t noticed someone was so close, which made you get startled again. A brunette woman. You didn’t look at her for too long, though, your eyes scanning the area frantically.

“You are safe here, Mori-san.” A familiar voice rushed to say.

Your eyes landed on… uh… oh, thank God, he still had the identification sticker glued to his chest (remembering names really is not a doctor’s forte), standing a few steps away from you. His eyes were round, a bit worried, and he had his palms up in an appeasing gesture.

Maybe the fact that the fourteen year old was trying to calm you down brought you back to your senses (due to the sheer embarrassment of it).

You straightened your back and cleared your throat.

You were in some sort of infirmary, though judging by the silence, it was not inside a hospital. It was small and well equipped. There weren’t any other patients occupying the three other beds. Besides Fushiguro (what the hell was he doing here?!), the brunette woman (a doctor. Why would she be wearing a white coat if she wasn’t one?), there was a buff middle-aged guy whose eyes were hidden behind sunglasses (he was quite intimidating) who got up when you woke up, and–

And–

Albino Jesus, sitting on a chair against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked exactly the same: blindfold, hair spiked up, an oversized zip-up jacket with a high collar, pants in the same dark blue color and dress boots. Maybe he was looking at you. You couldn’t tell.

“...It was real. Fuck, it was real.” You mumbled in a fragile voice.

He shrugged and grinned for some fucking reason.

Before you realized, you were walking from side to side, staring at the floor (you were still wearing your navy blue uniform, which meant much time shouldn’t have passed) with your hands on each side of your waist.

“All of that happened. Great.” You giggled. That kind of giggle that comes when your body doesn’t know what else to do. You scratched your own scalp nervously, slightly aware of how insane you should be looking at that moment, but there was no time to care about that. “Uh. I suppose you’re not trying to kill me, right?”

“We are not.” The buff guy said with a voice so deep that startled you a little. The top of his head had spiky brown hair, while the sides were shaved; he had perfectly trimmed facial hair – a mustache and a goatee (much manlier than that ridiculous thing the kidnapper had). He wore a black suit without tie that only made him look bigger. His tone was stern. “Yet, we would like to make some questions.”

“You want to make some questions?” You glared at him for the first time. “Well, I got a lot of fucking questions to make.”

Buff guy quirked one eyebrow. Maybe he wasn’t used to people talking to him like that. Maybe you wouldn’t have talked to him like that in a normal day, but honestly? The filter in your head was broken at that point. It had melted with the rest of your brain around six hours ago.

“First off – where am I? You guys… you guys don’t look like policemen to me.”

“You are in Jujutsu High at this moment.” Buff guy said.

“And that explains a lot.” The dam that usually kept you from being overly sarcastic in serious situations had melted, too.

“Megumi-kun was right.” The doctor said. You turned to give her a better look: long dark brown hair, purple circles under her eyes that contrasted with her pale skin… overall, the tired face of a doctor. You could relate to that. Even her lethargic (even disinterested) tone felt very familiar. “She really has no idea.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Albino Jesus mumbled under his breath.

“I’m telling you. I know her from the hospital. She’s a non-sorcerer.” Fushiguro barged into the conversation (it seems he was trying to defend you, but you weren’t sure). “Or at least… she was until yesterday.”

You pointed from Fushiguro to lady doctor to Albino Jesus frantically. “Will you people stop talking about me as if I’m not in the room?”

“Pardon their lack of tact.” Buff guy spoke up again. From his tone and posture, you could see he was some sort of leadership (being almost 2 meters tall and built like a bear helps, probably), though you were under the impression he wasn’t one to be too tactful either.“My name is Masamichi Yaga, this school’s principal. You were involved in some abnormal situations this morning, and we are trying to figure out exactly why it happened.”

“So… you’re not the police.” You instinctively stepped back (as if you’d be able to run away from bear guy and Albino Jesus in this small room), feeling anxiety grow inside of you again.

“We are Jujutsu Sorcerers.” Masamichi saw your face retorting in a confused frown, and before you could spill another sarcastic remark without thinking (Really? And I’m a Sailor Guardian) he raised his hand to refrain you from interrupting. “I understand you’re confused at this moment, but quite frankly, we don’t have enough time to explain you the specifics. The incidents in which you were involved brought too much attention – thanks to someone that decided to act before informing anyone,” Albino Jesus giggled, “and now we have a lot of explanations to make. So, if you could please sit down and answer our questions, I’d be immensely grateful.”

His expression and his harsh tone did not match that final plead.

It was clear he wasn’t asking for your collaboration, but demanding it.

Again, it was the fourteen year old in the room who calmed you down.

“We are trying to help, Mori-san.” Fushiguro said quietly. “You can trust us.”

You thought for five seconds, feeling overwhelmed by the silence and all the eyes on you, before sighing deeply and nodding.

There was a small iron table in the corner. Hesitantly, you took a seat. Masamichi and Fushiguro followed, the older man in front of you; Albino Jesus stayed in the same place by the wall opposite to you. Lady doctor didn’t sit.

“So.” You intertwined your own fingers and rested your hands over the table, shaking your leg nervously. “I was kidnapped from my work place. He…” You pointed at Jesus hesitantly (that blindfold made it awkward to look at him for too long), “...rescued me, I guess–”

“And you slapped me in return.” He interrupted you with a boyish whine.

You stiffened and cleared your throat. “...Sorry about that. I was nervous.”

“Don’t apologize. He probably deserved it.” Doctor lady said flatly.

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Fushiguro said flatly.

“Definitely deserved it.” Masamichi said flatly.

He grinned proudly in response.

“Uh…” That was weird. “...And that’s about all I know.”

Masamichi hummed and held his chin. “You’ve never been involved with Jujutsu before?”

You blinked and tilted your head to the side. “I’m sorry, you keep saying this word but I– I have no idea what that is.”

“Oh my God. We’ll have to explain everything from scratch,” Albino Jesus groaned under his breath. Fushiguro sent him a nasty side eye.

“You are a teacher.”

You completely ignored their side banter and tried to make what remained from your brain work. “Wait, by Jujutsu, do you mean these… these things? The creepy things I see? The creatures?”

“So you can see curses.” Masamichi nodded.

“Were you always able to see them?” Fushiguro sounded surprised.

“Well, yeah. At the hospital. Everywhere. I’ve always seen these things, but–”

“And you were just living a normal life with this fact?” You could see the outline of Albino Jesus’ eyebrow quirking under the blindfold.

“Uh, yeah? What’d you expect me to do? D’you know what people think of you when you come with the ‘I see ghosts’ talk?! I didn’t want to be put into a straitjacket.” You crossed your arms defensively. “Besides – they looked creepy, but always seemed pretty harmless to me.”

“Harmless?” Fushiguro was even more surprised. All of them looked a bit surprised at this remark, in fact, and made you wonder if you said something wrong.

“Yes. They never interacted with me, so I thought it was all in my head. Until…” The image of the creepy rat from earlier made you shiver. Your then white tennis shoe was still dirty with its blood; now that it had dried, it went from purple to black, as if you’d stepped into a puddle of petroleum. “Until this morning.”

They side eyed each other in silence.

“Fushiguro-kun, are you certain she did not exhale any cursed energy before today?” Masamichi asked.

“Yes. I am certain.”

“That does not make any sense.” It was bear guy’s turn to cross his arms. “She just stated that she’s always seen curses. And she very obviously possesses cursed energy.”

Fushiguro stiffened; you saw as his ears took a slight blush. “B-But I… I am sure of it. I’ve come across Mori-san in the hospital many times, and she just felt like a normal person. Besides – Gojo-sensei has been in the hospital as well, right? And he never felt anything out of the usual.”

“Tryin’ to stick the blame on me, Megumi?” So Gojo was his name. He had put his hands behind his head in a relaxed position. Despite his words, it sounded that he was just teasing.

Fushiguro looked at him angrily. “You know I’m right.”

Masamichi was deep in thought. “Well… I doubt anyone with this much cursed energy would go her entire life without coming across a sorcerer.”

You were shaking your leg under the table even more frenetically. Maybe because very little of this conversation made any sense. Maybe because a bomb had been dropped over your head – the creatures you’ve always seen were real, you weren’t imagining anything.Or maybe because a part of you desperately needed to smoke. “Do you guys… like… hunt people that see these things?”

“Seeing curses and possessing cursed energy are two of the things that put us apart from the rest of humanity.” He explained – though it still didn’t make that much sense in your head. “There aren’t many of us in Japan. So the possibility of someone possessing both of these traits and never being sensed or recruited by a professional sorcerer is very unlikely.”

“In Japan, you said?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then it’s explained.” A small smile popped up in your lips as if you had figured out something very clever. “I lived half of my life out of Japan.”

Fushiguro frowned. “You’re not Japanese?”

“What? No– I mean, yes, I’m from Kyoto. But us – my family – we left Japan when I was ten.” You scratched your head nervously again. They’d start thinking you had lice at this point. “Huh, now that you mention it, I almost never saw these… things? Curses? Overseas. Here, though, I see so many–”

“Did you come back recently?” Masamichi interrupted.

“Two years ago.”

The principal hummed.

He took his sunglasses off, exposing a pair of dark brown eyes and strong eyebrows that made him look even more intimidating. Probably because he was frowning, staring at you in a way that made you feel exposed, as if he had noticed something he hadn’t before. He leaned closer to the table at the same rate you leaned back.

“What is your name again, miss?” Why did he look so interested out of sudden?

You gave him your full name.

“‘Mori’ comes from your father, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What is your mother’s family surname?”

It was strange to speak it out loud. Mom always hated it. It became something of a forbidden word at home. So, as you pronounced it, the name tasted sour in your tongue.

“Hosokawa.”

They all went silent.

Your eyes jumped from Fushiguro, to Masamichi, to doctor lady and to Albino Je– Gojo. Aside from the white-haired one (because you couldn’t see half of his face), they had slightly shocked expressions.

“What?” You asked, starting to feel uncomfortable.

“Now things are starting to make sense.” Doctor lady muttered.

“You’re Kimiko’s daughter?” Masamichi said.

Your head whipped back to him. “You knew my mother?”

The principal sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He leaned his back on the chair once again.

“Your mother was a sorcerer.”

It was your turn to be completely shocked.

Another bomb dropped over your head as if it was nothing.

“My mother? A sorcerer?” You stared at him, waiting for him to dismiss it as a joke. But Masamichi was dead serious. You were under the impression he was incapable of joking or pranking anyone, to be honest. “Uh, I don’t think so. You must be mistaking her for someone else.”

“I’m afraid not, Mori-san.”

One more of your humorless chuckles went past your lips. You even smiled in disbelief. “Well, I think my mom would’ve told me if she was one.”

“I’m afraid not, Mori-san.” He repeated. “You said yourself that you left the country when you were a kid, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And do you know why?”

“I don’t remember very well, but–”

You had to interrupt yourself.

A frown slowly took place in your face. You felt your shoulders dropping. Masamichi kept watching you, unfazed.

Crap.

“...As far as I know… she fought with my grandmother. And… cut ties with her side of the family.”

Masamichi nodded.

“Hosokawa is a sorcerer family.” For some reason, his words felt like a punch in the stomach. “A very traditional one at that. Your mother was a sorcerer, but retired when she was still young… completely withdrew from Jujutsu Society.”

“...Oh.” Was all you were able to speak.

You leaned on the chair and stared at the table blankly.

It felt like a cruel joke to discover that at such a date. July 18th. Yesterday, July 17th…

“This doesn’t explain everything.” Fushiguro said, completely unaware of how it had affected you. None of them seemed to be aware, in fact. Or care. “Why would they kidnap Mori-san like that? Why draw so much attention?”

“Maybe they’d demand a reward to have her back.” Lady doctor presumed in that same disinterested tone. “Or for revenge. It’s not like that family doesn’t have enemies.”

“...I doubt that.” You found the strength to barge in again. “I haven’t met anyone from my mother’s side of the family since I was ten. I doubt they even know I came back. I don’t think they’d care enough if anything happened to me.”

“Oh, they would.”

You all looked at Albin– Gojo (shit, that nickname really stuck). It was the first time he spoke up in a while.

“Please, enlighten us, Satoru.” Masamichi sounded both pissed and tired.

The white-haired guy just smiled.

He got up (you hadn’t noticed how tall that son of a bitch was) and walked towards the table, carrying his chair with him. He sat beside Fushiguro, unceremoniously pushing the boy to give him space (Fushiguro sent him another nasty side eye) and sat on the chair backwards.

It was the first time you gave a really good look at him from up close.

You had wondered before if his hair was bleached. But, from self experience, bleached hair would never look that soft and healthy (so he really was albino, huh? Though his skin wasn’t that pale). The fact that he wore a blindfold still threw you off, made you wonder if he was blind, even though he moved his head in directions that told you he could see. Made you curious to know what was under there. Also made him look like a freak.

However.

A sharp jawline, plump glossy lips, a masculine upturned nose and a prominent Adam’s apple were things you’d acknowledge from miles. Blindfold or not.

And his perfect white teeth.

And he had smile dimples.

Maybe it was a bit inappropriate how your half melted brain paid attention to that in such a critical situation, but oh well.

Okay. Focus now.

He was still smiling in a way you didn’t particularly like.

Gojo extended his tightened fist in your direction. You looked down at it and back to his face with clear confusion. Did he want to fist bump?

“Hold me.”

You leaned away, your face twisting in a scowl.

“Why?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I won’t bite.”

Your eyes wandered to the other people in the room. None of them looked surprised or bothered by Gojo’s request, instead watching you with attention.

Weird. Weird, weird, weird. But of all the weird things you’d experienced today, that was the most normal.

So you decided to shrug and hold his wrist.

His skin felt hot.

“Was I supposed to feel something?” You muttered, unimpressed–

Until you looked up again.

Fushiguro had his jaw dropped.

Masamichi’s eyes were widened.

Even lady doctor, who looked very apathetic to everything, was pale.

It’s like they were scared to move. To breathe.

Gojo’s small smile had turned into a smirk you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Do you have it on, Gojo?” She asked quietly.

“Yep.”

“What is on? What are you talking about?” You looked around frantically.

“This,” Masamichi spoke in a bewildered tone you were not expecting to hear, “explains everything.”

“You could’ve told us earlier.” Fushiguro was sending him another nasty side eye. “Would’ve spared us from this entire conversation.”

For some reason, the fact that they were all ignoring you was the little push you needed to freak out.

“Okay, what is going on?!” You let go of his wrist and retreated your arm as if you’d been burned. You got up abruptly, scrapping the chair on the floor and gesticulating like a maniac. “If you’ve forgotten, I was kidnapped! I am the freaking victim here, but all you’ve done is interrogate me as if I’ve committed a crime!”

“Mori-san–” Fushiguro tried, but you were done with them.

“I don’t know if my mother’s family’s done something wrong, but I’m not associated with them! I don’t know why the hell these guys were after me! I don’t know anything! Like, hell, why are we in a school to begin with?! Why is a teenager involved in all this?!” Fushiguro looked a bit offended. “Why do you know my mother?!” Masamichi quirked one eyebrow. “And you–” You pointed at Gojo accusingly. “–Why are you wearing a blindfold?! It keeps throwing me off!”

Gojo smiled happily and threw you a V sign.

“None of what’s happening right now makes any sense!”

The principal sighed heavily. “If the situation wasn’t so atypical, we’d certainly make sure to explain everything. However–”

“However, I’m done listening right now.” You’re so sure he would’ve punched you at that moment if he could. The way his nostrils flared and a vein in his forehead popped made it clear. Whatever. “I have a younger sister. She’s a minor. I don’t know how long I’ve been out, and I need to check on her right now. Am I allowed to, sir?”

You glared at each other in silence for some seconds.

No one else dared to breathe.

Finally, he gave in.

Masamichi sighed and crossed his arms reluctantly.

“As you wish.”

Gojo shrugged and took something from the back pocket of his pants – and your eyes widened at the sight of your own phone and ID badge.

“Thank your blonde nurse friend later.”

It was a bit stupid of your half melted brain to notice how your phone looked small in his hand. It was also a bit stupid to be hyper aware of your fingers touching his when you took it back. It was also a bit strange to notice how he seemed to shake a bit from such a featherlight touch.

Whatever whatever whatever.

The screen lightened up, and you were surprised to see that it was 2PM – you’d gone through hell and it was still that early? The notification bar was overloaded. Texts and missed calls from Remi, Aunt Junko, some other colleagues and Mayu. Her latest text was from barely two minutes ago.

As if reading your mind, the screen lit up with a call from her. You immediately picked up.

“Hello? Mayu?” You sighed in relief upon hearing her voice. You walked to the back of the room, the fact that you were being observed still bothered you. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. Yeah, I was… I was stuck with a situation here. Yeah. Yeah. I am–”

You froze.

“What?!”

The three people in the room whipped their heads in your direction.

Your fingertips were shaking. Your vision went blurry. Heat crept up your neck; your legs lost their strength.

That hellish day was far from over.

“This morning, two explosions were reported in different areas of Tokyo. The first occurred at the Metropolitan Hospital; preliminary information points to a gas leak. Fortunately, the victims, a patient and three employees,only suffered minor injuries. The other explosion occurred in Sanya, at adisabled supermarket, with no casualties. The cause of the explosion is not yet known. However, authorities state that the two accidents are not related– ”

You hopped off the black sedan while it still hadn’t even stopped yet.

Maybe if you weren’t going through a meltdown, you would’ve noticed how ridiculously hot it was. It felt that you were inside a giant pressure cooker. The sky was clear, however, so at least there wasn’t another summer storm ahead. Maybe you would’ve noticed that, despite the heat, it was a pretty afternoon, the type that would make you want to either jog around the block or deep clean the house before your courage wore off.

You didn’t pay attention to any of that.

The only thing that mattered was Mayu, standing on the sidewalk by the apartment building’s side, holding that fat demon in her arms.

“Are you okay?!” You gripped her shoulders and looked at her up and down. Mayu wore baggy jeans, an oversized black t-shirt and Vans sneakers, her backpack hanging from one shoulder. Her dark green hair was tied in a ponytail.

“Damn. You look like you’ve been to war. The hell happened to you?” Was the only thing that little shit said in return whilst frowning.

It’s funny how she made you go from “worried sick” to “I’m gonna strangle you” in seconds. You stepped back and huffed. “Thank you for showing so much concern, Mayu.”

She shrugged. “You told me you were okay through the phone, so…”

“What did you see exactly?” You eyed the fourth floor of the building nervously – your floor.

“Well. I got here and the door was broken down. It’s a complete mess inside.” It was also funny how Mayu could describe the scariest scenario while keeping the most nonchalant face ever.

“D’you call the police?”

“I thought it was better to wait for you. Don’t think the police would like to see a minor unattended.”

Smart girl.

“You really ain’t having a great day, huh?”

She looked over your shoulder and quirked one eyebrow.

You turned around. Gojo and Fushiguro approached: the younger one had a serious expression, while the older one was slouching as usual, eating his third popsicle in a row. This one was blue. His left hand was shoved in the pocket of his jacket, and a plastic bag full of popsicles hung from his forearm (you had no idea when he got those. It should’ve been before leaving the school, but you didn’t see it).

“No shit,” you groaned under your breath.

Mayu’s eyes went from them to you rapidly, sending a questioning look your way. “So…?”

“Name’s Gojo Satoru. Nice to meet ya. Want a popsicle?” He offered the bag absently.

“Hell yeah.” She huffed tiredly and shoved her hand inside the bag, picking a strawberry one and ignoring your furious glaring. This girl had a serious problem. Being offered a popsicle was enough for her to not suspect the situation anymore.

Gojo looked down (“looked”) to the fat demon in Mayu’s arms.

“It’s so… round.” He sounded a bit impressed.

Countess just whipped her tail around angrily in response – the tortie cat that for sure was the reincarnation of an evil spirit. She was probably angry to have that many people around her, but she was always angry, so whatever.

“Don’t call her fat. She gets offended easily.” Mayu replied while biting her popsicle.

You rolled your eyes and turned around again; you were so anxious and nervous and angry that your ears were almost smoking like an old cartoon. There was no time to focus on the cat while your home had been invaded.

“Can we focus, please?!” You were about to walk inside the building, but an arm prevented you from doing so.

“Hey, slow down, Lara Croft.” Gojo didn’t bother looking (“looking”) down at you, focused on the fourth floor instead… and it immediately made you feel cold despite the heat, because you didn’t tell him your apartment was on the fourth floor. “You’re still in danger here, alright? Don’t go walking into places alone.”

The white-haired man looked behind his back. “Watch Mayu-chan, ‘kay?” He told Fushiguro. Mayu hadn’t introduced herself, he probably just picked her name from your talk on the phone. You also didn’t miss the casual chan. He pointed up with his head and looked down at you again. “C’mon.”

You still stayed on the sidewalk for a while to see Fushiguro and Mayu standing side by side awkwardly.

Mayu stepped away and sent him a side eye.

“Don’t even look at me. I like girls.”

Fushiguro blushed violently from either outrage or embarrassment. “What?! I wasn’t gonna–”

You ran after Gojo before you could laugh.

The two of you were the biggest contrast possible – you, almost vibrating in a frequency that could break glass from such nervousness; him, completely relaxed and humming a tune. He walked fast. Maybe his one kilometer legs were a factor. Regardless, you reached the fourth floor quickly. You were about to mumble how you didn’t have your keys before remembering that the door had been broken down.

Yet, the sight still made your stomach drop.

It was ripped off the hinges.

Gojo walked inside in front of you, absently turning the lights of the living room on. None of you bothered to take your shoes off.

You gasped.

The apartment… it was upside down.

One thing about you – as unhealthy as it was, you hated crying. Especially in front of a freak you barely even knew. But at that moment, seeing your home in a complete and violent mess, you felt a strong knot in your chest, a tightness in your throat that you almost couldn’t fight back.

Glass covered the floor from the destroyed coffee table. Pictures that were previously hung from the walls now were on the floor. The couch had been turned over; the TV was on the ground. Some cabinets from the kitchen had their doors ripped off. In your bedroom, all your belongings – clothes, books – everything was off the drawers and shelves.

Your home. Your things. The stuff you bought with your money, and the stuff from your parents you would never be able to throw away.

Your space invaded. Disrespected.

You didn’t even know what to say.

“We’re lucky that your sister wasn’t here when this happened.” Gojo’s voice echoed from another room. He showed up from the corridor, now biting the tip of the already eaten popsicle stick. He had the decency to sound a bit more serious, at least.

You gulped the lump in your throat. “Was it… was it them?”

“I don’t know if it was them. But this isn’t the work of a simple robber. There’s cursed energy residue all over the place.” These terms they used kept bugging your brain. With a surprisingly patient demeanor you hadn’t seen until that moment, he approached. “You’re not seeing it yet because you’re not trying to see. Focus your vision. Pay attention.”

You tightened your eyes and looked at where he was pointing – the opposite wall. At first, you just thought he was coo coo crazy (kind of hoping everyone would pop up clapping and laughing and a camera crew would appear. You’ve been pranked!). But… the more you looked, the better you saw.

Another involuntary gasp erupted from you. Gojo seemed satisfied.

The entire apartment was stained with marks.

Black and ghostly; they flickered like a TV channel out of tune. They dripped from the walls, the ceiling; hand marks, sole marks… they were everywhere.

Your stomach twirled.

“So this means… this is the work of a curse?” Your voice was fragile.

“No. Curse users. Criminal sorcerers, basically.” Gojo crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side. That mysterious smirk was there again. “You are being hunted, missy. And this mess right here is the warning they left to you.”

Your legs were weak again.

You looked around the destroyed living room. Gojo was right… what if Mayu was here at the moment the apartment was invaded? What would’ve happened to her? The simple thought made you shiver.

“I bet there’s a reward for your head already.” He continued absently. Gojo had walked towards the fridge (the living room and the kitchen were divided by a small counter) and opened it as if it was his house, as if the destruction around didn’t bother him. “Ijichi’s still checking that, but I’m sure it’s already on the deep web. A big reward, given the mess they caused in the hospital.”

You heard it on the radio: the hospital had blown up. They had exploded their way out, dragging you along. Luckily, no one got hurt… but still...

“I… I don’t understand.” You hated how weak your voice was, but how could you act differently? “I’m trying to wrap my head around what you all said, but it still makes little sense to me. Why is this happening? Why me?”

You heard the click of a can opening. He really was drinking your Coca-Cola without even bothering to ask… “Well, for starters, you’re a Hosokawa.”

“I don’t use that name.” It was an automatic response that made you sound way too much like your mother.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still in your blood, sweetheart. You can’t run away from it.” Gojo walked back to the living room. With his feet (and seemingly without doing much effort) he pushed the couch back to its normal position, plopping down on it; he crossed his legs and rested his arm over the back of the couch in a relaxed position. “Let me try to explain it in simple terms: there are curses, which are the ‘creatures’ you know. They are created by the accumulation of negative emotions that humans naturally leak; in other words, cursed energy. Then there are sorcerers – us. We don’t leak cursed energy like normal humans do. Instead, we can channel it into techniques.”

His words were flowing into your brain like an avalanche of information (and it didn’t look like he planned on slowing down). Slowly, you sat down on a chair nearby, feeling your headache get worse and worse.

“But there’s the catch!” He continued after sipping more soda. “You can’t learn a technique; you’re either born with one or you got nothing. So strong techniques are super valuable in the Jujutsu world. If a family has an inherited technique – one that goes down the bloodline – they do what they can to protect it and rub it in everyone’s faces if one of their children gets one. And unfortunately for you, miss, you have a pretty impressive inherited technique.”

“Huh?” You gripped the fabric of your pants nervously. “I don’t– I don’t think I have this… thing.”

“Oh, but you do.” Gojo caught something from the pocket of his jacket and threw it in your direction. “Catch it!”

You almost dropped it, but managed to grip whatever it was (more thanks to his great aim than your reflexes, to he honest). You looked down at the small unidentified object, smaller than your palm: it was wrapped in yellowed paper with engravings in black ink that you immediately recognized–

That was one second before it caught fire.

You shrieked, startled, and dropped it on the floor. It was that again – the black flames from before; they lightened up for a few moments, engulfing the small object, before dissipating as fast as they came. And just like before, the yellowed paper was gone, revealing a miniature, ancient looking oni mask.

“W-What the– it happened again!” You couldn’t fight the urge to recoil your legs up the chair and press them against your chest as if the miniature was a cockroach.

Gojo giggled and opened a knowing smirk you were already getting used to.

“That was your technique in action.” He pointed to the tiny mask on the floor. “This is a talisman. It was sealed. Your technique broke the seal effortlessly.”

You remembered the kidnappers’ incomprehensible talk from back then…

She broke the seals.

Ain’t my fault. The seals were pretty tight. This only means she really is the one, huh?

“B-But I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, because you’re unaware of it yet. But the sole property of your cursed energy is like a nullifier.”

You gulped, feeling a horrible taste in your tongue. “Is it… like… a big deal?”

“If it’s a big deal?” Gojo huffed and gesticulated widely. “Of course it is! On paper, you could break any seal! Negate any other technique! Hell, you could kill me if you wanted!”

After you saw him floating midair and twisting limbs with the power of his mind or whatever that was? “Uh, I don’t think so.”

“Do you understand how valuable this technique is?” He ignored you. “It’s extremely rare. I’ve never met anyone with something like that before.”

You gulped. The general idea of what he meant was clear. “So that’s why they’re after me. Because of this… technique.”

“Yep.”

“Is there a way to get rid of it?”

“No. It’s a part of you, like an organ.”

You put your feet back on the floor and crossed your arms. “Well, if it’s really a part of me, then why didn’t it ever bring me any problems until yesterday?”

“That, my friend, is a good question.” He chugged more soda. It reminded you that you were thirsty and hungry.

You ran your hand over your face. That annoying headache was getting worse and worse. Your home was a mess, the curse users people knew where you lived, the creepy stuff you’ve always seen was real, you were the bearer of a technique that could do something you hadn’t understood very well yet, there was a blindfolded guy drinking your Cola without asking, and you reeeally needed a cigarette.

“What do I do now?” Your tone was hopeless, because that’s how you felt. “We can’t stay here. Should I… should I call the police or something?”

“Hmm…” Gojo pouted thoughtfully. You tried to act nonchalant when he crushed the empty soda can without even touching it (the thing floated near his palm and shrunk). “I guess you two can spend the night at the school, given your circumstances. But Jujutsu High doesn’t accommodate people who aren’t active sorcerers or non-sorcerers… so that’s how long your stay can be.”

“That’s okay. Tomorrow is a problem for tomorrow me.” You got up and looked around nervously. If anyone info-dumped more Jujutsu content of cursed energy content or technique content, you might have a stroke. “Uh… I’ll just grab some clothes real quick.”

Gojo threw a thumbs up and grabbed his phone from his pocket, now more focused on scrolling it than paying attention to you.

You were about to run down the corridor when something popped in your head and you came back hesitantly.

“Huh… Gojo-san?” He looked (“looked”) up from his phone immediately. “I’d… prefer if my sister was kept in the dark about all this. You know, the sorcery stuff.”

He hummed and scratched his forehead with his thumb. “Well, it’s gonna be difficult. We’re going to Jujutsu High.”

“Yeah, but…” You fiddled with your fingers nervously. “Hell, not even I understand exactly what’s going on. And Mayu – she’s not like me. She doesn’t see things. So… just until I figure things out. Please?”

He smiled. “Just ‘cause you were really polite.”

He really was kind of annoying, huh?

You rushed. Took a backpack and shoved whatever clothes you could find. A pair of clean sneakers too. Toothbrush. The phone charger. Countess’ pink carrier. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter (Thank God!). Lastly, you took the wedding picture of your parents from the butsudan and shoved it into the bag. From everything in the apartment, that photo was what mattered the most.

Gojo put the door back into the hinges and you walked off the building.

Mayu was sitting on the curb with the demon still on her lap. Fushiguro stood a few meters away from her with an angry expression, eyes focused on his phone.

You plopped down next to Mayu. Countess hissed at you. You hissed back.

“They should’ve taken your fat ass.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Mayu elbowed you angrily; you didn’t have the energy to elbow her back. Instead, you simply lighted up a cigarette and inhaled it, savoring the feeling. “So what’s the plan?”

You sighed heavily. “I was thinking… double suicide.”

“Ew. If you wanna die, go alone. I have a date with my beautiful Kiku-chan on Wednesday, so I must live.”

You frowned. “Kiku-chan? Wasn’t it Rio-chan?”

“We broke up.”

“Wasn’t it, like… past week?”

“Yeah. The planet spins. Water flows. Everything changes in a few days, sister.”

Mayu didn’t mind you glaring at her with disgust. “You’re trash.”

“Actually, I have a big heart and a lot of love to give. You should try it out anytime, you know? Love.”

“No time for love in this economy.” Great excuse to give as your fourteen year old sister had a more exciting love life than you – even if she was pretty irresponsible with it. You envied her, honestly. Her home had been invaded and trashed, but not only did she not seem bothered by it, she was thinking of her silly little date. This girl was not okay in the head. You smoked the last drag and got up. “Put the demon in the carrier. We’re sleeping out tonight.”

“Where?”

“In a school.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, either.”

No time for explanations.

And just like that, you were all squeezed in the car.

Gojo on the passenger seat. Fushiguro and Mayu on the windows, you in the middle like a child. The demon inside the carrier over Mayu’s lap. The driver seemed on the verge of a panic attack all the time (you forgot his name). He wore a suit, thin glasses, had his hair parted in the middle; he looked like the type of guy who’d be bullied in school (and Gojo looked like the type of guy who would bully him, which explained a lot about their dynamic).

“Who wants to pick the next song?!” Gojo said excitedly. He did not know how to modulate the volume of his voice – why speak so loud inside a car? Why was he excited in the first place?! “Megumi?”

Fushiguro just groaned in response. He looked out the window, arms crossed, grumpy expression.

“Me!” Mayu raised her hand like a student in class. Gojo offered her his phone. You already knew she’d chose that new EXO song she’d been talking about the entire week. While giving his phone back, she peeked her head from behind his seat (and you already knew there was something atrocious coming). “By the way, what’s up with the blindfold, man? You blind?”

You elbowed her ribs and she winced. Countess inside the carrier hissed in unison. “Mayu!” Jesus Christ, she really was like a toddler who would stare and point at a disabled person on the street.

“What?! I’m curious!”

Well, I’m curious too, but I wouldn’t ask that to his face, you would’ve said if you could.

Gojo laughed, however, and didn’t sound bothered by her question. “I have reeeeally sensitive eyes, you know.”

You tried to act nonchalant upon hearing this new discovery. So he’s not blind. Okay. But is he, like. Seeing everything under the blindfold? The idea of him having his eyes opened under there and his eyeball touching the fabric made you shiver, so you decided to stop wondering.

“Oh. That sucks. I’m really short-sighted too, but I wear contacts!” Gojo chuckled again in a tone that sounded like you have no idea, girl. “Also, huh, are you guys officers?”

He looked back. “Your sister didn’t explain it to you?” It was annoying how you could see when he was quirking his eyebrow.

“I don’t have the mental fortitude to explain anything at the moment.” You said between gritted teeth. That was the truth. Maybe irresponsible, but still true.

Gojo shrugged and looked ahead again. “What are we, Ijichi?”

He patted the driver on the shoulder (Ijichi. Right. Remember this name.), and the poor man shrieked. He did look on the verge of a panic attack. Maybe teasing the guy behind the wheel was be a horrible idea.

“We are… huh… civil servants?”

“Exactly! That’s what we are, Mayu-chan. Civil servants. You’re surrounded by pretty reliable people, just like your nurse sister–” ­

“I’m not a nurse.” Your voice came quick and venomous.

Gojo looked back at you again.

“What’s wrong with being called a nurse?”

You crossed your arms defensively. “Nothing wrong with being called a nurse. It’s just that I’m not one.”

He looked ahead again, but before he did, you saw the teasing smirk increase on his lips. “Eh, you people that do medicine are all pretty arrogant, huh?”

Fushiguro sent him another nasty side eye. “You complaining about arrogance?”

Before you could defend yourself, Mayu popped from behind his seat again. “No, but that’s, like, so true. Dad was like that, too. It’s like any other profession isn’t good enough besides theirs.”

You elbowed her ribs again. She winced again. Countess hissed again. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” You whined between gritted teeth.

“I’m just telling the truth!”

You sunk on the seat and grimaced. “I’m not arrogant, okay? It’s just that I spent way too long studying to not be called what I am. A doctor. That’s all.”

“Really? What is your specialty, Mori-san?” You were surprised to hear the driv– Ijichi politely barge into the conversation, sounding both apprehensive and interested.

“Emergency medicine.”

“It’s not a specialty any person would pick.” He sounded politely impressed. It made you like him more. “One must have nerves of steel to work in such field, eh?”

“Well. Yes. You get used to it after a while.”

Gojo crossed his arms. “Huh. My field of work requires nerves of steel, yet you never compliment me for it.” He was pouting. That grown man was pouting like a child, and probably glaring at Ijichi under the blindfold. Ijichi shrieked again.

“Well– I– Eh–”

“Maybe because he was talking to me, not to you?” It was your turn to tilt in his direction slightly. Ijichi shrieked again. “Does it bother you not being the center of attention all the time?”

“It does.” Fushiguro grumbled.

Gojo threw his arms up in surrender. “Geez! God forbid a guy wanting a little compliment once in a while!”

“You want compliments all the time.” The black-haired boy grumbled again.

Mayu peeked her head from behind the seat again. “Who’s gonna pick the next song?”

“Me!” Gojo shouted happily while opening Youtube again. Fushiguro sunk on the seat as if feeling a bad omen. “The three of you are being annoying, so just me and Mayu will choose the songs from now on!”

His song choice started. The familiar and insufferable EDM filled the car.

“No.” You whimpered. “Not this song…”

“Yes!” Gojo grinned like a maniac and turned up the volume. Fushiguro looked either about to vomit or jump out the window. Mayu hopped on her seat. To your disgrace, the two of them shouted the lyrics in unison: “C’-c-c-c-c’ mon baby! U! S! A!”

You ran your hand over your face and sighed deeply.

You had been kidnapped that morning. You were being hunted by criminals. Your home had been wrecked. Apparently, you possessed a “technique”. Your mother had lied to you about her real past. But yeah, sure, let’s sing along to U.S.A by DA PUMP at the top of our lungs. This is fine. This is fine.

The next hour went like that. Jujutsu High was in the middle of fucking nowhere, so you were lucky that the traffic wasn’t as heavy as it’d usually be, otherwise you’d arrive at night. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon line; the sky had orange tones and the temperature was a bit more bearable. Shit, you needed a shower. You needed to eat. You needed to reply to everyone that had been bombarding your phone (Remi especially). Most importantly, you needed to sleep. Maybe after some sleep you’d be able to think more clearly.

But no.

That hellish day was not over yet.

Because at the same time Ijichi parked the car at the school’s gates, you saw two other cars parked as well – and a few people getting out of them.

You wished you wouldn’t have recognized her immediately.

You’d last seen her around sixteen years ago, after all. You had changed. She had changed. And yet, the moment you laid your eyes on her figure, there was no mistaking.

She wore a sober black yukata – the same from your memories. Her hair was completely white, tied in a perfect low bun. She should be over eighty now. Yet, her advanced age did not bring you any sympathy. She was accompanied by three other men (all wearing traditional clothing, all younger), but still, you could only focus on her.

Mayu, clueless to everything, had gripped the door handle and was about to jump out of the car.

You shut the door again forcefully.

“What is this woman doing here?”

Your tone made everyone freeze in place.

Mayu looked from you to the woman out there. You hated how she started to recognize her, too, even if just through pictures.

“Is… is that…?”

Ijichi shrieked.

“Masamichi-san asked me to contact the Hosokawa Household about the incident,” he looked from you to the group and to Gojo nervously. “Did I do something wrong…?”

Gojo chuckled quietly and hummed. You were under the impression he found the whole situation entertaining, but you couldn’t care less about what he thought at the moment.

“You pissed Yaga off, Mori-chan.” He said in a sing-song tone. “He’s throwing the responsibility over your family.”

“She’s not my family.” There was no time to be snarky anymore. Not with that woman there. Not knowing that yesterday was July 17th.

You were trying your best to keep your cool even after all of today’s events for your own sanity. But that couldn’t be taken lightly – not even your nerves of steel could take it.

You were seething.

“So, what you gonna do?” Gojo crossed his arms. “You can’t sit here forever.”

Your jaw was tightened. Your heart was pumping. Your eyes were in flames.

But you weren’t one to run away from confrontation. You never were.

“Stay in the car.” You told Mayu sternly. You opened the door and managed to jump over her lap (Countess hissed inside the carrier).

“But–”

“Stay in the car.” You shut the door again before she could argue more.

That woman immediately noticed your presence.

You had the time to hear Mayu’s muffled voice inside the car:

“Mr. Blindfold, is my grandmother someone important?” She asked in an apprehensive tone. “’Cause if she is, I don’t think it’s a good idea to let my sister talk to her.”

Gojo giggled in response.

“This is gonna be fun.”

He hopped off the car.

You walked on a beeline towards the entrance. Masamichi was there, too, accompanied by two people in suits (a man and a woman), yet you couldn’t focus on anyone else. Just her.

Hosokawa Nobuko.

She was shorter than you remembered. Her skin, wrinkled and fragile. A cane helped her stand. She could pass as a simple elderly woman to anyone, but those eyes couldn’t hide the truth. The cold, heartless eyes staring back at you.

She measured you up and down. Your navy blue uniform. The stained tennis shoe. The disheveled hair. The iron grimace.

All she said was: “You grew up.” And that was the nicest thing she could say. You knew how she could be mean. You remembered.

“And you got old.”

The people around you froze.

At that moment, Masamichi found out setting up this meeting might not have been a good idea.

“Let us get inside and talk appropriately,” the principal said. You wanted to yell I have nothing to talk to this woman, but the still sane part of you decided not to. Decided to listen.

Your mother barely talked about her family; your memories from your childhood in Kyoto were damaged by time. You had just discovered that your mother used to be a sorcerer, and apparently her retirement was what made her cut ties with the family. It was all too new, too confusing, and as much as you hated it, maybe this woman – your grandmother – could grant you some answers.

Maybe she had changed. People change with time, isn’t it? Get softer.

Just looking at her was enough to know she hadn’t.

But still. You decided to obediently walk inside the school’s gigantic property towards the administration complex. No one dared to mutter a word – well, except for Gojo who hummed U.S.A quietly all along. He was beaming, in fact.

Finally, you got to some sort of meeting room. It had fancy green sofas with a coffee table in between. Nobuko sat in one sofa with her three companions standing behind her. You sat on the opposite sofa. Masamichi sat on an armchair between the sofas like a mediator; Gojo plopped down beside you as it it was his house. The two people in suits stood behind the sofa.

You stared at each other.

The air inside the room seemed to be charged with electricity.

“I’d like to extend my thanks for your presence, Hosokawa-san–”

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice was sharp like steel.

You didn’t have time to listen to formalities or care for it.

It immediately set the atmosphere inside the room.

There it was. Her gaze. It hadn’t changed a bit. The arrogance, the cold, the nonchalance – it was all there.

She tapped her finger over the cane slowly.

“You know very well why I am here, child.”

“I don’t, actually. Don’t think you would come greet me out of the kindness of your heart.”

One of the men behind her glared at you with so much anger, he’d make a hole on your forehead if he could. He was probably your cousin. “Excuse me, who do you think you’re talking to, miss?!”

“Yeah. I’m talking to your boss.”

Nobuko chuckled and raised her hand without bothering to look back. “It’s okay, Juugo. I’ll deal with her.”

You huffed with disdain.

Nobuko measured you up and down again. Slowly. Her lips slightly upturned in a disdainful smirk; her eyes gleaming with distaste. That wasn’t a usual, innocent old lady; she never was, and never would be.

“Extinguishment.” She spoke in a thoughtful, raspy voice. “I didn’t think I’d live to witness it. I really was blessed with a long life.” Nobuko tilted her head to the side slowly; the movement reminded you of a snake. “Do you even know what I’m referring myself to, child?”

But the sole property of your cursed energy is like a nullifier.

“My technique.”

The other people in the room eyed the scene like a tennis match. She chuckled quietly again. “And to think you had it all along.”

“Well, maybe you would’ve known sooner if you cared about us.”

“It was your mother’s decision to cut ties. I simply respected it.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Nobuko chuckled again. You fantasized about shoving that vase in the corner down her throat.

“This doesn’t matter anymore. The past is in the past; what matters is the present and the future. And you, child–”

“I have a name. Do you even know my name?”

“Now that it matters to me, yes, I know your name.” The atmosphere in the room got heavier and heavier. Tons heavier. There it was; her showing her true persona. “You are being targeted by forces beyond your comprehension. You possess a technique that hadn’t reappeared since we were part of the glorious Fujiwara clan, yet you barely know what to do with it.” Nobuko quirked one eyebrow. “The only people that can actually help you are the one’s who you continue to disrespect.”

You tilted your head in disbelief. “So you came all the way to tell me you want to help?”

“Of course.” She straightened up like a proud peacock. “You should know, child, that I never agreed with your departure. You should’ve stayed with us. Heavens, how powerful would you be if received proper training from a young age?”

You stared at her in silence for a few seconds. That, perhaps, gave the impression you were agreeing with her – but it lasted just those few seconds.

“You’re lying.”

Nobuko frowned. “What?”

“You’re lying.” Your tone got progressively more venomous. “You didn’t know I had this technique until Masamichi-san contacted you. That’s why you hopped on a bullet train to Tokyo so fast in the first place.” Ancient memories from your childhood resurfaced like mismatching pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. You couldn’t remember the details, but you remembered how you didn’t like her, how the house in Kyoto was unwelcoming and oppressive, mother’s heated arguments with her… “That’s why mom cut ties with you, isn’t it? You didn’t know I had this. You despised me the way you despised her.”

Her disdainful smirk was back. “Despise? Your mother had the best opportunities Jujutsu Society could offer her despite being a woman.”

“You are a woman.”

“A woman that knows her place.” She sounded proud of herself. “The moment she decided to walk out of line, she chose to not have our support anymore.”

“And you want me to know my place, too?”

“Of course.” Nobuko had the audacity to show a proud smile. “You might not be able to reach the peak of your abilities this late in life, but there’s still time. There is a place in this world reserved for people with an ability like yours, child. A place of honor and pride.”

Gojo exhaled a quiet disdainful chuckle beside you.

Once again, you remembered his words.

If a family has an inherited technique – one that goes down the bloodline – they do what they can to protect it and rub it in everyone’s faces if one of their children gets one.

“What’s this gonna grant you, granny?” Nobuko quirked an eyebrow at the mocking nickname. “I might not fully understand what’s going on, but I know what type of person you are.”

Her nostrils flared. He inhaled.

“You really are too much like her.”

The anger in her voice was what filled your patience through the brim.

Too much happened that day. You had a headache. You were confused, scared and angry. Yet, the way that old lady had the audacity to show that emotion in front of you was like adding gasoline to a fire.

Maybe your twisted situation worsened your distaste towards her. But you couldn’t stand that. Being in the same space as her. Looking at her. She looked like your mother.

“Your daughter. She was your daughter.” Your voice raised – angry, gritted, barely contained. “Her name was Kimiko.”

The room felt like a pressure cooker about to explode. No one else dared to breathe. Masamichi, however, as a mediator, still tried:

“Mori-san, please tone it down–”

“You’re childish.” Nobuko cut him off. “If you can’t sit down and talk like an adult, I won’t stay here any longer–”

You leaned forward, eyes beaming with fire.

“Do you know what day was yesterday?”

The old lady interrupted herself at your sudden question.

“July 17th? Do you know what day was yesterday?” You pressed on.

She frowned. “What?”

She didn’t know.

The pressure cooker exploded.

“Ten years since your daughter died. It was yesterday.” You watched as, for the first time, quiet embarrassment covered her expression. She had the decency to feel ashamed, at least. “The daughter whose funeral you didn’t attend. Yet, here you are now, wanting me to go back to your house because I have something you want. You’re disgusting.”

“Don’t you dare disrespect Nobuko-sama like that–” One of the man behind her tried again.

“I don’t fucking care!” You got up abruptly. The other people in the room flinched. “I don’t care about your family or your honor. You’re all disgusting!”

“Mori-san.” Masamichi’s voice was stern. He wasn’t intimidated by your outburst, but you were far from caring at that moment either. “Do you understand what you’re doing right now?”

“I understand very well.” You pointed your index finger at Nobuko accusingly. “You’re right, I am too much like my mother. I never wanna see your face again.”

She stared back at you with the same intensity.

“You will regret this.”

“We’ll see who’ll regret what.”

Without sparing a last look at anyone, you stormed out of the room.

You didn’t know where you were or how long it had been, but the sky was almost completely dark.

Jujutsu High was immense. You didn’t know where you were going. Your vision was blurred, your head was aching, your heart was pounding. You just walked aimlessly out of the building, then crossed the complex, then ended in another building – fuck, you didn’t know where the entrance was. But you couldn’t face Mayu, not in this state.

You found a hidden place behind what looked like an old shrine. Ahead, a railing separated the school property from a hill and a forest that extended for kilometers; Tokyo shined in the far distance. You sat there, your back against the wall, knees close to your chest, and smoked.

You may have cried. You didn’t know.

You just stayed there until your hands stopped shaking.

It all felt like a big fat joke brushed in your face.

You didn’t have time to digest anything. The whole thing barely made sense yet. Your dear grandmother’s visit was the cherry on top.

And yet, what might have caused such a grand reaction from you was the fact that she looked too much like your mother. Except you’d never see mom this old, because she had died ten years ago – and Nobuko didn’t even care.

You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the wind and the forest. You… you just needed to sleep. You just needed to be alone. You just– you just needed some freaking paracetamol–

The sound of steps approaching made you remember that you had no time to rest, actually. You never did.

Gojo was clapping.

You opened one eye to see him grinning.

“Let me say, that was the most spectacular social suicide I’ve ever seen in my life!” He put both hands on each side of his waist. “Congratulations!”

You sighed heavily and hid your face behind your hands.

“I really don’t need this right now…”

“Okay. Straight to business, then.” You looked between your fingers. The white-haired man was leaning on the railing in front of you with a carefree posture (as usual). Nothing ever bothered him, and he didn’t care about bothering anyone. “What you gonna do from now on?”

“I…”

“You have few options.” He interrupted you. “Respectfully, despite what you said back there – very badass, by the way, I respect it –, I think you don’t understand what you just did.”

You crossed your arms and grimaced at him.

“Okay. Explain it.”

Gojo patted his index finger over the tip of his nose. “The Hosokawa Family is kinda important, you know? Big traditional household. Boring, I know. But. They were among the only people able to protect you and your sister. And they probably have the ancient scrolls with the knowledge about your technique… but you just told their matriarch to fuck off.”

“I’d rather die than go back with them.”

“Again! I respect it!” He threw his opened palms to his sides. “But it has its consequences anyway. She may make your life more difficult than it should be.”

You gulped. Maybe you should’ve thought this through better? Yeah. Actually, no. Fuck them.

“So, with the family option scratched, you have another one.” Gojo pointed two fingers up. “You pissed Yaga off, sure. But we’re always in need of sorcerers, regardless of age. So, if you commit yourself to becoming a sorcerer… receiving proper training… the school will be able to back up your expenses and protection. Both to you and your sister, at least until we find out who’s after you and why.”

You leaned forwards slightly, more interested now. “And how would it work?”

“You’d get to live here, which is the safest place in the world for you right now. We’re paid to work, too, so you wouldn’t need to worry about money. Of course, you’d have to work your ass off to catch up with the minimum a sorcerer needs to be able to go on missions.”

“Missions to what exactly…?”

Gojo groaned. “Gosh. You really know nothing…”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking you to explain. Aren’t you a teacher?!”

He tsked. “Sorcerers exorcise curses, sweetheart. The creepy creatures, you know? We get rid of these things, because they’re actively dangerous to normal humans. Dangerous to us, too. Not me, actually, but to you– super dangerous. And you might die fighting, by the way, which is how most of us die – not me, by the way, but that’s how most sorcerers die.”

Your face retorted slowly as if you were tasting a sour lemon. “Wow. You’re doing great propaganda in your favor.”

Gojo waved his hand dismissively. “Relax. We don’t throw anyone into super dangerous missions head on. There’s levels of difficulty, like a video game. Get it? Weaklings like you are at the moment would deal with equally weakling curses.”

You looked down at the floor. It didn’t sound so horrible. No, actually, it sounded horrible. And yet, if it meant Mayu would be safe… just until you’d get who’s after you…

“It… sounds viable.” You agreed quietly, which seemed to excite him.

“Right? There’s a small condition, though.”

You whipped your head back at him. Gojo was eyeing your uniform. “What?”

“Jujutsu sorcerers work full time. It can’t be a side job thing. So… your current job…” He pursed his lips and tilted his head.

“No.” Was your immediate answer.

“What?”

“No. I– I can’t leave my residency.”

Gojo sighed heavily.

He wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t get that you spent years of your life studying. He wouldn’t get that your father encouraged you to keep studying even when he got sick and you almost dropped out to take care of him. He wouldn’t understand that, by leaving your residency behind, you’d be leaving your father’s sacrifices, too. And you wouldn’t drop that over someone you met that morning.

“You’re making your own life very difficult right now…”

“I can’t throw eight years of my life away!” You gesticulated nervously. “It’s not just a job, medicine is my life!”

Gojo grumbled quietly and threw his head back.

The half melted part of your brain notice his Adam’s apple bobbing again. And how fluffy his hair looked. Whatever whatever whatever.

He looked (“looked”) back at you again with his head tilted to the side. You really, really wished you could see his eyes to properly to decipher his expression.

“You can’t stay here if you’re not associated with Jujutsu High, Mori. Neither your sister. She’s a non-sorcerer.”

Fear slowly set in your stomach.

“So… what do I do?”

“You go back to your house, wait until the people after you kidnap you again, and we’ll have to rescue you again. If we make it in time, that is.” Gojo shrugged.

You gulped and avoided his gaze. Maybe he thought you were childish, just like Nobuko. Maybe you were childish. But fuck, you didn’t ask for any of this! You just wanted to go home and sleep after a 24 hour shift, not to be dragged into a world you knew nothing about!

Gojo hummed.

“You don’t want to go back with your family. You don’t want to become a full-time sorcerer. Yet, you want you and your sister to be safe, whilst keeping your merry doctor life.” Why was he repeating all that? Was he mocking you? What was wrong with him?

“I didn’t even have time to think about everything–”

He crouched down in front of you suddenly.

You shrieked, startled, at the sudden proximity.

He was smiling. His teeth were white. His dimple was cute.

“Okay, then.”

You stared at him in shocked silence for a few seconds.

“What?”

“Yep. Sounds fine to me.” Gojo tilted his head to the side. His hair was infuriating. His smirk was infuriating. He was infuriating.

And what he was about to propose would be even more infuriating than anything he’d done until that moment.

“But you’ll have to come live with me.”

A/N: - Reader's technique is basically Angel's, but turned up tenfold. Or: this is an Asta situation. We'll dive deeper into her abilities in the future! - When I write reader inserts, I like to make sure anyone can insert themselves (duh) in the story regardless of appearance (or regardless of the shitton of lore i give my mc's lol). Which may be a bit of a problem since Jujutsu is pretty much a Japan only thing with VERY rare exceptions, and I like to keep stuff lore accurate. SO, it's a small detail, but I wanted to make it kinda implied that reader is biracial. The country overseas she lived will keep unspecified, you can fill in the blanks if you want. Or don't if you don't want!! Whatever!! It's up to you!!! ("oh but mori is a japanese name" yeah but i wouldn't name her family idk MACKENZIE either lol you get it right?? yeah i know you get it you're smart) ANYWAYS!!! Feedback is MUCHHH appreciated as usual!! If you read it this far pls don't forget to leave a comment <3 See you!

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 1

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! First of all, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance!! - This self-indulgent mess starts a little before JJK 0. - Reader is roughly a year younger than Gojo. - We're gonna dig HEAVILY into grief, especially deceased parents, so beware if this is a sensitive topic for you! - This is an afab!reader situation, so no specific physical traits will be described. I am giving you a nickname tho, because I'd rather eat shit than pollute my text with "Y/N" ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) - And as usual, English is not my first language. Enjoy!! <3

⤕ Masterlist: soon! ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

It was a shift like any other before the kidnapping happened.

The emergency room is never a calm environment, of course, let alone of a big city. But the previous night, it felt that the gates of hell opened in the grounds of the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. It was that type of shift that let nurses with their hairs disheveled and eyes widened and doctors running from side to side and the endless noise of stretcher’s wheels around the halls and ambulance sirens and for fuck’s sake the coffee machine is broken again I will kill myself.

A shift like any other. Yeah.

There were two car crashes. Or three. You stopped counting after the third exposed fracture. A big festival happened in Shinjuku – or something like that – which always results in drunk people doing drunk people atrocities. There were a few cases of alcohol-induced coma, too, and a couple guys needing stitches on their faces because they got into fist fights. Also two heart attacks? Some old lady fell down the stairs of her home.

Yeah. Yeah, there was a lot of stuff happening at the same time.

Maybe that’s why you were so inattentive, that morning. The clocks marked 8AM; the sun had risen above the city and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe it was the coffee’s fault (or the lack of it, since the machine broke sometime past midnight). Or the energy drinks. Or the full pack of cigarettes you smoked. Or the salad you ate hours ago. Uh. There were a lot of things going on with you, actually, and not very professional on your part, but it was your second 24 hour shift that week, and you hadn’t really slept between the shifts, which meant you’d been awake for… huh… twenty hours straight?

Dad would’ve killed me if he knew, you thought.

Dad. Maybe you should’ve listened to your dad back then, when he said you should pick another specialty. A cardiologist like him, probably. Or a gynecologist. Some area that would allow you to work in a calm clinic, with a much higher salary and a more reasonable lifestyle.

It’s what anyone would want, of course, after years and years of studying: a respectable profession that gives you tons of money. But you weren’t like dad. You needed that adrenaline, and you needed the cigarettes and the coffee and the energy drinks, and you needed to be so overworked that your brain wouldn’t stop for a second to think about that other thing.

July 18th, 2017 – your phone screen showed. You only survived the 17th thanks to all of that.

Which didn’t mean your brain wasn’t reduced to jelly inside your skull at that point, of course.

“You look like you’re on cocaine.”

Remi stared at you with a mix of judging and concern in her eyes. She sat behind the nurse’s counter, while you leaned on it in front of her.

“I don’t.” You shrugged and took one more sip of the warm water from the plastic cup. Remi tightener her eyes.

“Your pupils are two black wholes. You look insane right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“How many energy drinks did you take?” Her perfect eyebrow quirked up.

“Not many.”

“This alone implies you had more than one. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You shrugged again, half of your face hidden behind the plastic cup.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

You weren’t annoyed at her. Remi was the responsible one, and you were the reckless one. This was your dynamic. It worked well. And she couldn’t really judge you, not while you spent the night in the seventh ring of hell while she spent her shift in the calm, silent inpatient unit.

“I’d rather be actually high right now, to be honest.” You admitted quietly. Remi nodded. She put some strands of honey blonde hair behind her ear delicately.

“Yeah. Me too.” Not so responsible. “Keito-kun was in Shinjuku… he sent me many photos.” A pout slowly took for in her lips. “He had invited me, you know. We were supposed to be there together.”

You tightened your eyes slowly.

“I thought you had stopped talking to him.”

“That was past week, darling. Things change.”

“Right.” Yeah, definitely not very responsible.

“But that’s not the point. The summer festival looked so fun! And there were so many hot guys there, too…”

“But weren’t you supposed to be there with Keito-kun?”

“I can multitask.”

You cackled. She followed. It was probably the first time you smiled that day.

You opened Mayu’s contact impatiently again. She had chosen some anime boy as her current icon. You tapped your index finger over the counter, trying to ignore the fact that your hands were shaking a bit.

“Mayu’s not answering me.” You mumbled. Remi typed something on her computer, not bothering to lift her eyes to you.

“It’s 8AM on a Saturday. No normal person is awake at this hour.”

“I think she went to Shinjuku behind my back.”

Remi pursed her lips and hummed. “...It’s the type of thing I would do as a teenager.”

“Me too.”

“So you can’t really judge her, can you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be the responsible one now, aren’t I?” You didn’t plan on sounding exasperated all of sudden, and you didn’t plan on making your breathing get faster or your eyes widening, and maybe Remi was right, maybe you did look like someone on cocaine, and maybe you should really stop with the energy drinks – oh shit stop stop stop. One thought at a time. One thought at a time.

“Oh, come on. Even if she went there, Mayu is pretty level headed for her age. Much more than I was. I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s sleeping right now and you’re overreacting.”

Yeah. Maybe. You’d call Aunt Junko later to make sure she actually slept there instead of sneaking out (Aunt Junko wasn’t that great with messaging apps. You had bought her a new phone, but she only knew how to accept and decline calls). But how could you not be anxious and overreact if yesterday was that day?

You knew – Mayu wasn’t as affected as you were. She was way too young when everything happened, after all. But still, now that most of the craziness of past night was slowly leaving your system, you felt guilt slowly grow inside of you. Was it a bit selfish to choose to work a shift in such a date? What if she was upset that you left her alone?

July 18th, the notification bar showed. Yesterday, July 17th.

July 17th.

Shit. Stop thinking about that other thing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To not think about it. So don’t think about it. It was yesterday anyway. It’s over.

Remi yawned.

“When are you leaving?”

“At nine thirty.” You groaned and massaged your own forehead. “Shit. Just remembered I’ll have to go home by subway.”

“Thank God, I wouldn’t let you drive in this state.” She tightened her eyes at you again. It was funny to see her going mom mode, even though she didn’t have children. “You should take better care of your health, girl. An ER doctor trying to have a heart attack? You’ll enter this hospital as a patient one of these days!”

You nodded tiredly. “I know. My bad.”

To be fair, usually you wouldn’t be so reckless. In a normal day, just plain caffeine and a few breaks to smoke would carry you through a full shift smoothly. It’s just that… it wasn’t a normal day. But you didn’t have it in you to try to justify yourself, because if you tried, you’d have to talk about that other thing, and you didn’t want to do it.

Before any of you could say anything, the soft ring of an electronic bell caught your attention. You tiptoed over the counter to see the panel of alarm lights. The little light from Room 32 glowed in green.

“Mrs. Hamazaki’s room.” Remi sighed and got up from her chair, sending you a pleading look. “I know you’re on your break, but can you cover me for a while? Just until Misa-san comes back. If a patient calls, dial downstairs… but she should be back in five minutes.”

You still had thirteen minutes left. Technically you shouldn’t, but you decided to shrug and walk to the other side of the counter anyway. “Sure.”

Remi patted your shoulder as you settled on her chair and put the stethoscope around her neck, disappearing down the quiet hallway towards Room 32.

Quiet. Real quiet, here.

You sighed, suddenly feeling an invisible weight worth tons over your shoulders. Sleep was finally starting to take space inside your head. Just the thought that you still had to take the subway – even for just a few stations –, shower, eat something and probably scold Mayu for going to Shinjuku (you knew her too well) made you feel tired.

But it’s fine. You’d have the next three days off, thanks to the two consecutive shifts you took.

You placed your phone standing over the desk, balancing it on the computer screen, and opened the front camera – just to immediately regret it. Jesus Christ, you really looked insane; your hair looked like a bird’s nest, dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped (you were so sure Mayu stole your lip balm)… everything about you was wrong. You immediately untied the loose bun and tied it again, trying to make your hair look at least a little more presentable. A small part of your brain tried to remember the last time you wore something nice, went to a hair salon or put makeup beyond just some soft mascara and blush… it was two months ago, maybe. Or three.

Fuck.

That’s the life you chose, right?

Nine minutes to the end of your break.

An annoying, familiar sound caught your attention. You frowned and got up to peek from over the counter.

Disgust immediately set in your stomach.

Other than the broken coffee machine or the new nurse that took ages to get a single blood sample or that old man that yelled at you because his case was sooo much worse than a car crash victim (he just had back pain) or the paramedic that gave you he wrong prognosis or the drunk patient flirting with you or that test result that arrived two hours late, that fucking thing on the floor was what made you truly feral the entire shift.

Except – you couldn’t sneak into the inpatients unit to complain about it with Remi, because apparently, no one else could see it.

It’s not as if you weren’t used to it. In fact, you were so used to it that you could fully ignore it, because that’s what adults do. Oh, you’re seeing a creature that looks straight out of Silent Hill? No, you’re fucking not. No one else is seeing it, so I’m not seeing it either.

It was also very unprofessional to be showing clear signs of schizophrenia and not being brave enough to confess it to a psychiatrist, sure. But it wasn’t a today thing. It was an always thing, because you’d always seen these things, and it was already so familiar that it didn’t shock you anymore. Maybe you could’ve done something about it when you were a kid, but now? At your big age? As you were so close to completing your residency? Fuck no.

This one wasn’t even as gruesome as the others you’d seen. But hell, how annoying it was.

“Chuuuuu…” the creepy little thing moaned. It looked like a rat – an obese, hairless, in advanced state of decomposition rat; its legs were too short and thin for the rest of the body, hence why it moved around slowly, dragging itself on the cool floor. And shit, it smelled so bad; its stench immediately overwhelmed the usual smell of antiseptic of the hall.

That fucking thing.

It kept chuuuu-ing in your ear the entire shift. It wandered around the ER room, and you crossed its slow path many times, trying to not look too insane as you avoided stepping on it. Even when you were far from it, you’d still hear the chuuuuuu and it was making you go nuts.

Again. Maybe it was the date or your maniacal mental state that made you so bothered with it. You’d see these things almost weekly at the hospital; they were all irritating, but they were also small and easy to ignore. You’d encountered far worse before. Yet, you just couldn’t stand it this time.

“Chuuuuuuu…” it repeated again. You grimaced.

“Shut the fuck up,” you finally hissed in something between a whisper and a yell, because you’d been holding back this entire time and now there was no one to witness you cussing at nothing.

Seven minutes to the end of your break.

The fucking thing looked at you.

It moved its hairless head slowly in your direction. Its eyes were white and empty. It… it lifted its head to look at you.

You froze in place.

You were looking at it, and it was looking back. It was looking. It was seeing.

That was new.

The thing screeched.

Like a rodent in a trap, but angrier. It… it looked angry, now. Its fat face retorted, exposing a set of sharp teeth, drool dripping from its mouth.

That was also new.

It changed directions. Before, it was crawling down the hallway; now, it crawled towards the counter – much faster than it was before. Towards you.

That was also very new.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, looking to your sides; the hallway was still empty. Your hallucinations were trying to attack you now? Shit, what if Remi was right and you were actually high? What if someone spiked your energy drink? Where the hell was that Misa-san she talked about? There’s no way– no way you’d deal with that alone.

The rat thing crawled closer. Closer. You got up from the chair.

“Shoo,” you tried, feeling a mix of urgency and disgust and sheer embarrassment because hey, were you trying to shoo a mutant rat that apparently only existed in your head?! You looked to your sides again, over the counter, waiting for anyone to appear – but the hallway was still dead empty.

It crossed the counter, screeching angrily. You stepped back and almost hit your back on a cabinet behind you. “Go away!” You whispered again. It only caused it to screech louder.

The thing opened and closed its jaws, biting the air around your feet. It was trying to bite you.

“No!” You tiptoed, trying to avoid it. The thing screeched so loud that it hurt your eardrums. It aimed at your ankles; its teeth were dead sharp, and it was drooling, and it was so much more disgusting from up close, and it smelled of rotten flesh, and it was going to bite your ankles, and– and–

“No!”

You stomped on it.

The thing exploded.

Its insides splashed around your right foot like it was nothing but a balloon filled with water, but instead of water it was purple rotten slime. You stood there, paralyzed, staring at your foot, the rat’s guts splashed on the floor – when suddenly, right before your eyes, its remains started to vaporize in black dust.

And then, in less than 5 seconds, there was only purple blood.

Or you thought that was blood.

That was all very fucking new.

“Ew!” A visceral disgusted groan erupted from your throat. You looked around again frantically (No one! Where the hell was that Misa-san girl?!), not knowing if you wished someone would see this or thankful that no one witnessed you murdering a… uh… rat? Rodent?

You were feeling its warm blood drip down your ankles and inside your socks, staining your white tennis shoe and the hem of your navy blue pants. That thing was real.

“Ew! Ew!” You whispered again. You hopped on one foot towards the paper towels on the wall, taking as many as you could and wiping the blood from your shoe the best way you could. I’m gonna get rabies, the thought crossed your mind, spiking your panic. I’m gonna get mutant rabies. I need to disinfect this. Disinfectant! Shit, I killed a wild animal or whatever that thing was– but I wasn’t expecting it to fucking implode like that! How did it get inside the hospital anyway?! Should I call animal control? How am I going to explain this–

“Excuse me?”

You yelped and turned around in a jump.

There was a boy.

He stood on the other side of the counter, eyeing you with a slight frown. His hair was a gracious mess of spiked black strands; he wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His eyelashes were ridiculously long (in a jealous tone), contrasting with his pale white skin.

Oh. Ooooh.

You eyed the identification sticker glued to the right side of his chest (remembering names is not a doctor’s forte).

“Oh. Hello, Fushiguro-kun. Good morning.” You swiftly threw the dirty tissues in the trash can under the counter, away from his eyesight. “How can I help you?”

Technically you shouldn’t help him because this was not your area and that Misa-san girl should be here already, but not only were you trying to not look so awkward and not let a visitor know you had just killed a wild animal inside the hospital – you had a soft spot for him. Everyone had, to be honest.

“Good morning, Mori-san.” You noticed how he didn’t look at your ID badge, he just remembered your name. Such a good kid. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that… I thought I heard something.”

Great.

“Really? Heard what?”

Fushiguro tightened his eyes again. Why did he look so suspicious?

“Something strange.”

Greeeat. The boy heard me stomp on a wild animal. Fantastic.

“Must’ve been outside, I guess. It’s really silent here.” Years of calming hysterical patients made you perfect the ability of offering a calm, unsuspecting smile. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Which was something stupid to ask twice, because there was nothing you could help him with… and you had tried before.

You first met Fushiguro back in April.

It was your shift when his older sister, Fushiguro Tsumiki, was admitted to the hospital.

She came unconscious in an ambulance with a shivering, panicked friend of hers, both wearing school uniforms. You didn’t remember the specifics, but they were out of school doing something they clearly shouldn’t when Tsumiki blacked out, in her friend’s words. Your first assumption was alcoholic coma, obviously, even though her friend denied it vehemently (what teenager wants to get caught drinking in school hours?). She also stated that Tsumiki hadn’t hit her head anywhere, which was true: there were no signs of concussion or any other injury anywhere in her body. No convulsion, drooling or bleeding. Her vital signs were perfectly fine. And yet, Tsumiki wouldn’t wake up.

Around an hour after she was admitted, Fushiguro arrived. You remember asking where their parents were, but he was so frenetic that you decided to explain the situation to him before they could come. You told Fushiguro about her health status. You explained that she was going through a tomography at that moment and she still had more exams to take, but despite the unconsciousness, she was stable.

Your shift ended. You went home. The sight of that lonely, scared teenager stuck with you – maybe because he reminded you of Mayu.

The next day, you discovered that Tsumiki had been transferred from the ER to the ICU. She was none of your business anymore. And yet, during your break, you decided to check her test results out of curiosity.

There were no signs of alcohol or drugs in her blood.

No concussion, aneurysm, tumor or stroke. Her brain was perfectly fine.

And yet – Tsumiki would not wake up.

You were always busy with patients. It was hard to keep track of each case, and after someone was transferred out of the ER, you usually didn’t have time to check on them. But that girl intrigued you (and pretty much the entire medical staff). She was not brain dead; instead, her brain was working on a low frequency, as if she was simply asleep.

An inexplicable coma?

The entire situation kept coming back to you, not just due to the sheer absurdity of it, but also because of the boy.

Fushiguro came to visit every day during the first month. Remi always talked about him. Other nurses talked about him, too, always in a heartbroken tone. You’d cross his path in the hospital sometimes, and when you did, you’d make sure to check on him.

Whenever you saw him, your heart tightened.

He did remind you too much of Mayu. It made you think of her in this state if you were hospitalized. It broke your heart even more after you learned they were orphans. The whole thing just hit too close to home.

It was one of these situations that made you wonder, if I had done something different when she arrived, would I have saved her?

These days, he visited the hospital once or twice a week, always alone – which made you genuinely worried for him, since he was orphaned. Who was taking care of that boy? You went as far as checking Tsumiki’s file again, only to note that they had a legal guardian (well, someone had to be paying for the medical expenses, right?). Remi explained that said legal guardian did visit her sometimes as well (and she didn’t forget to mention how hot he was, apparently), you just happened to never be there when he was.

Tsumiki was currently in a room down the hallway. The visiting hours started at 8 o’clock, and there he was, always punctual.

And still eyeing you with suspicion.

Boy, I like you, but you’re starting to piss me off right now.

“...No, thank you,” he finally said, stepping away slowly. “I guess it was nothing.” Fushiguro offered you a polite bow. “Excuse me. Have a good job.”

You watched him walk out of the inpatients unit through the door.

Only then did you breathe again.

Three minutes to the end of your break.

Shit. You were going to get late. Where the fuck was Misa-san?! In fact, where was everybody in this goddamn ward?! You rushed to grab the phone and dialed the infirmary extension, ready to yell at someone, taping your fingertips over the desk impatiently. You’d have to explain yourself about the mutant rodent later – and you wouldn’t bother to clean that blood, not after Misa-san pissed you off by being late. Is no one going to pick it up?!

Two minutes to the end of your break.

The soft ring of an electronic bell.

Great. Fantastic.

You eyed the panel of alarms over the desk angrily. I don’t even know who Misa-san is, but I already hate her.

But then – you froze.

The alarm light was glowing in red. Emergency.

Over each alarm, there were stickers with the names of the patients occupying the rooms.

Room 39.

Fushiguro Tsumiki.

Your stomach dropped.

You put the phone down and ran down the hallway.

Is this really happening? Is it a mistake? What if the alarm is broken–? It didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that you were going to get late and that this wasn’t your job. That was Tsumiki, and her brother had just left the room barely a minute ago. What if a miracle had just happened?! You’d still have time to run after him to tell him the news!

Room 39 was at the end of the corridor. Without a second thought, you barged in.

You were greeted by darkness.

The curtains were closed. Barely any light from outside reached the room. You tattered the wall, searching for the switch. It didn’t turn the lights on.

But you could still see the outline of her body.

Laying on the hospital bed. The covers up to her chest. Sleeping peacefully.

And for a second, you thought it really was just a mistake; the alarm went off on its own for some reason.

Until you saw someone holding the button.

It was dark; you couldn’t really see. But your body felt it. Your senses. You felt it, with something primitive and instinctive inside of you, felt it with your soul.

There was something terribly, terribly, terribly wrong happening.

And it was like the world outside of that small hospital room didn’t exist anymore. You couldn’t hear anything behind that door; only the darkness that surrounded you, and the cold – it was freezing cold – creeping up your legs and arms like frost. Your lungs failed. Adrenaline pumped in your veins. You didn’t want to turn your back to that thing, because your instincts knew that was a bad idea. And yet, you knew you had to run.

You turned the doorknob in a swift motion.

But it was already too late.

You had time to feel an icy cold hand grip around your wrist.

Then – darkness.

Megumi felt himself fill with anger as he waited for The Idiot.

He tapped his foot nervously, bit his fingernails even more nervously. He’d been trying to stop with this habit, but these days it felt nearly impossible. Not after everything that had been happening.

And certainly not after what happened an hour ago.

Which is what made him angrier. At himself.

Because he didn’t feel that presence until it was too late.

Megumi was inside the elevator, making his way to the ground floor of the hospital, when he felt that. The undeniable, chilling cursed energy – so strong that he could feel it from the other side of the building; it appeared suddenly, made the hairs in the nape of his neck rise, made his eyes widen and his heartbeat spike. Made him press the floor button angrily as if it’d make the elevator change directions out of nowhere.

Then came the explosion.

It shook the entire hospital. It cut the energy. It made him get stuck alone in the elevator for solid three minutes. It took him another three to run upstairs.

But it was already too late.

The cursed energy had disappeared, but not the immense hole on the wall that it – whatever it was – created in broad daylight.

Inside his sister’s room.

Panic filled the entire complex building. He heard people yelling, running, nurses rushing to get patients out of the ward, the distant sound of sirens. There was no fire, however – what created that hole on the wall wasn’t normal. All of that was a blur inside Megumi’s mind.

A hole. Cursed energy. Something inside Tsumiki’s room, minutes after he left.

She was unharmed. Some debris hit her cheek, but other than a small bruise, she was “fine”. That didn’t calm him.

What just happened? Why it happened? Why her?

The hospital was packed with police, firefighters and reporters now. As expected, lawyers already tried to talk to him (desperate for him not to sue them), but it was no use talking to a minor. They wanted his legal guardian.

The Idiot.

If he even felt like coming, that was.

There’s no way he’s not coming, Megumi tried to calm himself. This isn’t just because of Tsumiki. Something strange happened here. He needs to check.

Though – maybe there was a tiny part of him wishing he wouldn’t come…

Well. That was too late.

The familiar black sedan peeked around the corner.

And there he was.

The Idiot walked out of the car with his usual nonchalant posture, holding an opened chocolate Pocky pack. Megumi half expected him to immediately hit him with a joke, or scolding passed as a joke, or downplay the situation–

But The Idiot looked in the direction of the East ward and hummed.

Megumi couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the man was frowning.

Great. So he knows I’m not overreacting.

“Scandalous, heh?” The Idiot mumbled as he stepped closer. “Too many people here. I don’t like it.”

Ijichi walked out of the car as well, looking nervous as usual. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while typing something on his phone. “Should I notify the school?”

“Yep.” The Idiot put a Pocky in his mouth.

He walked towards the reception, not waiting for anyone. Megumi saw Ijichi about to say something else – probably that The Idiot shouldn’t get involved before Jujutsu High took responsibility over the case –, but he kind of had permission to do whatever he wanted, so Ijichi stopped himself and pressed the phone on his ear with a sigh of defeat.

Megumi followed him inside the hospital shortly.

“What do you think it was?”

The Idiot shrugged. “Dunno. Gotta take a closer look.” Normal people weren’t allowed to walk in, but he simply ignored it. “Is Tsumiki okay?”

“Yes. She was taken to another room.”

He nodded while chewing. Megumi wanted to believe that The Idiot felt relieved upon hearing that, even though he had already said Tsumiki’s condition through the phone… but it was hard to tell.

“So, let me rewind it…” Megumi rushed to follow him into the elevator. “You were right here… and didn’t feel anything wrong?”

Megumi felt his ears get warm. He hated being reprimanded by The Idiot, and he hated failing, and he hated that it would give The Idiot material to tease him about it. The elevator doors closed.

“I did feel something strange… but…”

“You thought it was nothing?” The Idiot crossed his arms and pouted. “You let your critical thinking overrun your gut? C’mon, Megumi. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t judge me. This hospital is infested with Grade 4 curses. You know it.”

“Oh, but I can judge you.” The Idiot pointed at him with a Pocky. Despite his words, his tone wasn’t harsh – it was carefree as usual, and perhaps that pissed Megumi even more. “You told me you were taking care of the weakling curses. You said everything was under control, isn’t it? Boooo.” He flicked Megumi’s forehead, which made him inflate with even more anger. The Idiot pouted like a child and stepped away from him, pressing the pack of Pockys over his chest protectively. “Don’t look at me like that. I ain’t giving you any.”

“I don’t want your stupid–”

Ding. The elevator doors opened. The Idiot walked out before Megumi could finish the sentence.

As expected, the hallway was packed with policemen and firefighters. The door leading to the inpatients unit was protected by Keep Out yellow tapes, but The Idiot simply lifted it over his head and walked in.

A guard from the hospital immediately intercepted him. “Sir, this area is forbidden…”

And maybe the fact that he was two heads shorter than The Idiot made his confidence deflate, or the off-putting blindfold, or the simple fact that The Idiot had this strange way of acting like he owned anywhere he walked into and it always made people question themselves. Megumi had seen this same reaction countless times before. The guard cleared his throat and made an effort to broaden his shoulders.

“Sir, you may not enter the area unless authorized. I must ask who you are.”

“Oh. Right.” The Idiot had the decency to shove the Pockys inside the pocket of his jacket, at least. His tone was a mix of nonchalance and passive aggressiveness as usual. “You were looking for this little guy’s legal guardian. Here I am. The legal guardian.” He patted Megumi on the shoulder rather aggressively. “His legal guardian and of the girl who almost blew up inside your hospital, you know.”

The guard went pale.

A middle-aged man wearing a suit nearby observed the conversation and rushed nearer. Megumi recognized him – one of the hospital’s lawyers. He pressed his hands together and smiled nervously.

“Eh, you must be Gojo-san, isn’t it? It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve been waiting for your arrival–”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The Idiot kept walking.

Megumi followed. The nervous lawyer followed, too.

The nearer they got to the room at the end of the corridor, the more people gathered. The Idiot towered over all of them, making his way unhurriedly while the lawyer babbled. As he stood in front of Room 39’s open doors, a policeman tried to stop him, but the lawyer hushed:

“This man can end our hospital’s reputation. Please, let him take a look.”

The policeman let him step inside. Megumi followed.

The Idiot whistled.

“What a mess.”

Megumi’s stomach dropped. The wall that faced outside was destroyed; the steel beams were retorted, the concrete cracked even on the ceiling. A hole with a diameter of at least three meters.They still had to verify if the structure of that part of the building had the risk of completely crumbling, though Megumi doubted it. Now, the view to the hospital’s back gardens and the street just ahead was totally visible.

To know that Tsumiki laid right there when whatever or whoever caused this much destruction was… to know that the debris could’ve caused her much more harm… Tsumiki, asleep, defenseless…

The man beside him hummed and held his chin. In moments like this, Megumi wished he could see through his eyes.

“Sloppy work. There’s residue all over the place.”

“So… you don’t think this is the work of a curse?”

“Nope.”

Megumi’s worst suspicions.

Curse users.

Whoever was behind this was intelligent. Had intent. So maybe… maybe Tsumiki’s condition had intent behind it, too…

“I just don’t get why Tsumiki was unharmed.” The Idiot said. “Why draw this much attention if you’re going to leave her behind?”

Megumi had been asking himself this the entire time. It didn’t make any sense.

He sighed and crossed his arms. “Well. I guess keeping her here isn’t safe anymore. Though I don’t think Shoko will be okay with moving her to the school…”

Megumi knew that. Jujutsu High didn’t have the necessary staff or equipment to accommodate a patient in coma; that’s why Tsumiki was in this hospital in the first place. They already knew that her problem couldn’t be solved by normal doctors. She just needed a place to be properly taken care of until they found a solution.

“C’mon. Where is Tsumiki now? Gonna take a look at her.” The Idiot turned around. Megumi frowned and followed.

“What about the cursed energy residue?”

“Just the usual. We gotta track it.” The Idiot shrugged and walked down the hallway back to where they came from. The middle-aged lawyer approached again, babbling about how he was so eager to sit down with him and settle the situation extrajudicially (Megumi wanted to punch him on the face. His sister could’ve died and all he cared about was not getting sued?!). Said lawyer got pale when The Idiot absently handed him a simple black business card and told him to talk to his lawyers (plural), as he had no time in his schedule.

They waited for the elevator. The Idiot started chewing his Pockys again, humming a tune and tapping his foot to the rhythm.

Megumi hated that.

How he couldn’t even pretend to be worried for Tsumiki.

That was when another voice caught his attention.

“You’re not listening to me, sir.”

“I am listening, ma’am.”

“Then why are none of you taking action?! I spent the last hour explaining the same thing!”

“And I have already explained how the protocol works–”

“I am telling you that my friend was taken!”

Ding. The elevator doors opened.

Megumi walked to the other end of the corridor instead. The Idiot tilted his head to the side, calling his name, but he ignored it.

That was Yoshida Remi. The blonde nurse responsible over this floor’s inpatients unit. Megumi already knew her well at this point. He noticed how her forehead had a small bruise, and there were band-aids over her forearms; she was hurt by the explosion? Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, and her expression a mix of concern and frustration. An unwilling policeman stood in front of her, looking like he just wanted to get rid of the situation.

“In fact, Yoshida-san, you have failed to explain exactly what happened.”

She gripped her own hair and groaned. “I… I already told you! She was taken!”

“By who?”

“I…”

The policeman sighed and made an appeasing gesture with his palms turned to her. “I understand you must be in shock, ma’am, after witnessing an explosion. I believe it’s best for you to calm down first and organize your thoughts.”

“My thoughts are organized! My colleague works here and she’s nowhere to be found!”

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I already said– I told you that I got her phone!” The nurse almost scrubbed a phone on the policeman’s face, shaking it angrily in his direction. “How could I call her?!”

“Excuse me, officer.”

Megumi turned his head to see The Idiot approaching as well.

He touched the policeman’s shoulder and opened a small smile. “I’ll take it from here.”

Anyone normal would question the guy with the blindfold, but the officer was visibly so tired of that situation that he decided to simply nod and escape.

The nurse was taken aback. “Fushiguro-kun? You’re still here?” He saw a load of guilt cross her face. “I am so sorry for what happened to your sister. You have checked on her already, right? Fortunately, she was unscathed…”

“Yes. Yes, I saw her.” Megumi nodded.

The Idiot stepped closer. “What were you talking about? Your colleague was taken?”

Yoshida Remi’s eyes traveled to The Idiot – and at the same rate she was visibly confused by the blindfold, she also blushed. Megumi tried not to roll his eyes. “Gojo-san? I-I didn’t know you were an officer.”

“Yeah.” The Idiot smiled, not bothering to deny it. “So? Can you explain to me exactly what you saw?”

She dropped her eyes and frowned; the nurse was so, so, so visibly confused. “I-I… I’m not really sure of what I saw. But I saw. I heard a noise coming from Fushiguro-san’s room, so I went there to check it, and…” She scratched her head nervously. “I saw someone, or something, grab my friend and take her away. Then the explosion came and I’m even less sure of what happened, but…” She looked up again with frantic, widened eyes. “But she disappeared! I looked for her everywhere! Look, her phone was left behind, and I found her badge on the floor, too…”

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“It was Mori-san?”

She nodded. “Yes! You remember her, don’t you?!”

Of course Megumi remembered her. He saw her just minutes before the explosion happened… and she looked suspicious…

Surprisingly, The Idiot took the ID badge from the nurse’s hand and looked down at it.

His smile had vanished.

So had his nonchalant posture.

“Megumi.” The black haired boy frowned at his tone – lower? More serious? “Let’s go.”

He also took the phone from the nurse’s hand and turned around without explaining anything.

“What? Are you making a police report?”

The Idiot threw her a thumbs up without looking back. “Yep! No worries!”

Megumi bowed at the confused blonde nurse politely before running after him. “Where are we going?!”

“We’re going to solve a kidnapping, silly. Ain’t it obvious?” He flicked Megumi’s temple again to his utmost anger. Luckily, the elevator’s doors were already opened, so both rushed in. The black sedan and Ijichi were waiting in the same spot.

“Good news, though.” The Idiot said while chewing more Pocky. “I don’t think this had anything to do with Tsumiki at all.”

“What…?”

The Idiot, as usual, did not elaborate.

Surprisingly, he sat on the passenger’s seat instead of the backseats, which for some reason made Ijichi sweat. While Megumi adjusted his seatbelt, Ijichi asked nervously:

“Where to next, Gojo-san?”

The Idiot hummed.

With his thumb, he pushed the black blindfold up to his forehead, exposing his right eye. His cyan iris seemed to glow faintly.

“...Hmm… Sanya, I guess.” He put the blindfold back in place and excitedly reached for the radio, immediately turning it up to an obnoxious volume. “I’m not picking any of your boring songs, Ijichi!”

The driver shivered.

One day, Megumi would land a much deserving punch on his face.

It was freezing.

All of your senses were slow as consciousness awakened again. No hearing, no seeing, no smelling or tasting. But you could feel that it was cold.

The second thing you could feel was your teeth chattering.

The third, a discomfort on the entire left side of your body: you were laying on a hard floor. Your neck hurt from the way your head hung.

The fourth was the fact that you couldn’t move.

You could feel your limbs, but there was no strength to them, as if the cable that connected your brain to your limbs was ripped off. Your body was useless.

That’s when panic started to settle in.

What the fuck was going on?!

Finally, you could see again.

The place was dimly lit by… candles? That was it, probably, judging by the way shadows flickered on the walls. Each breath of yours produced small clouds of steam. It was a relatively large room; the concrete floor under your body was wet. The place smelled like a butcher shop. Were you inside a meat locker? That should be it, judging by how stupidly cold it was. With your peripheral vision, you could see that there was a plastic curtain somewhere in the corner.

Your teeth chattered, but that was an involuntary motion. You could move your eyeballs and that was it. The rest of your body – numb.

A million thoughts per minute rushed in your head. A spinal fracture? Had you completely lost movement?

You were laying in fetal position: leg to leg, arm to arm. You tried your best to look down…

You were… mummified?

That was the only description. There was… paper wrapped around your body. Yellowed paper, old looking, with inscriptions that you couldn’t really recognize. From what you could see, only your head was free from it.

Panic really really really settled in.

Oh my fucking God. What is happening?! Where am I?! What happened– wait, try to remember. Try to remember. I was working. I was in the hospital. I stepped on a weird looking rat. My break was close to ending. I rushed to a room because the alarm was on and– and– what happened after that?! What–?

You heard steps.

It made your heartbeat spike up.

Shit. Shit. Oh my God. Oh my God. I was kidnapped.

It was more than one pair of feet – two or three people? You couldn’t be sure, as you couldn’t fucking move your head to see it, but the noise clearly came from over that plastic curtain. Low male voices. It made violent shivers run your entire body.

Fear. Fear. Fear. You were frightened. A type of fear you’d never experienced before. It was visceral, colder than the temperature, scarier than any weird creature you’d seen before. You were in an actually dangerous situation and you couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

I’m being trafficked I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m–

The second little person living inside your head slaps the first little person on the face. Shut up!! Focus! Try to think of a way out!!

A window–?! You couldn’t turn your head to see if there was one. If this really was a meat locker, there shouldn’t be any. A familiar sound?! Cars outside–?! Nothing. The only things you could hear were the low voices of the unknown men nearby and a constant quiet buzz. A board?! A flyer?! Anything that might tell you where you are–?! Nothing to see on your field of view.

The first little person living inside your head starts freaking out again. I don’t know where I am I don’t know how long I’ve been knocked out I might be paraplegic I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die—

You’re not being useful!, the second little person yells, making the first little person recoil and shiver. You’ve watched these true crime documentaries! The probability of living if you don’t take action now are less than 10%! Do something now that we have a chance!

Right right right. They still hadn’t noticed that you were awake; you could only hope there was no one watching you from behind where you couldn’t see. You’d have to take advantage of this before anyone crossed the curtains.

You could feel your limbs and the pain and the discomfort, so a spinal fracture was less likely. Maybe they had anesthetized you and the effects were beginning to dissipate? What sort of anesthetic was that, by the way, to render anyone in this state? Gosh— if it really was general anesthesia, you were lucky to be alive to begin with.

Try to move. It felt silly to try to mechanically do something a body does on the automatic. You focused your senses on your left feet; the strange blood of the mutant rat had dried in your sock, becoming some sort of crust you could feel very well. You could feel that the shoelace was less tight than on the right foot. Try to move. Try to move. A spasm. A wiggle. Anything. Anything.

But nothing moved.

No matter how hard you tried.

Your breath became irregular and difficult as real, real, real panic spread through your system.

I am going to die.

Both little people inside your head were screaming now.

I can’t move. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t know what they’re gonna do. I don’t have a way out. I don’t have an escape plan. I can’t contact anyone. I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to—

Mayu.

The two little people shut up abruptly.

Mayu.

Fourteen year old Mayu, waiting for you to come home. Acting nonchalant at first but then getting really worried when you don’t pick up or text back. Mayu, going back to Aunt Junko’s house, not knowing what to do. Mayu, Mayu-chan, Mayuka, lonely and frightened the way you saw Fushiguro Megumi the evening that his older sister was brought in.

Mayu.

You couldn’t allow anyone to kill you.

You couldn’t just leave her behind.

Another feeling grew inside of you, spread like fire on hay; made the two little people run and hide. Overwhelmed the fear quickly.

Anger.

Who the fuck these men thought they were to kidnap you?! What right did they have?!

Anger mixed with frustration pumped even more adrenaline through your bloodstream; tears welled up your eyes, tightened your throat. I can’t be dragged around like a garbage bag! I can’t allow it! I have to do something!

USELESS BODY!! DO!! SOMETHING!!

It started like a point of heat — right in your heart.

You didn’t know what that was. For a brief second, you thought it was cardiac arrest — that’s probably what it’d feel like. It was hot, piping hot, made your blood boil, your vision blur in white; it spread through your skin, from your toes to your scalp. It was heat, it was energy, it was anger—

It was fire.

It was black. The flames — they were black; they enveloped your body, and it took a second to understand that this was not your imagination; you were in flames. You’d have screamed if you could. It took you another second, however, to realize that these flames weren’t burning you… not exactly.

They set the papers that wrapped your body on fire.

You watched in utter disbelief as the inscriptions on the papers seemed to glow for a moment before burning down to ashes.

All of that happened in less than ten seconds.

The black fire extinguished as if it’d never been there in the first place.

The strange yellowed paper that once enveloped your body — gone.

And all of sudden — you could move.

The cable was reconnected.

You got up in a jump; your limbs ached and you felt dizzy, but somehow managed to keep your balance. Your heart pounded in your chest, you gasped for air as if you’d been underwater, your fingers were shaking, you felt a terrible headache— and on top of that, you were tired as if you’d ran a marathon.

None of that mattered. You could move. You could run.

You didn’t even have time to look around, however — because the curtains were opened.

There were three men.

They were all relatively tall. The one in the middle had long black hair, an ugly goatee and tattoos on his forearms. Their clothes were pretty unimpressive. They… didn’t look threatening, not exactly — the one in the middle looked like someone you’d have beaten up in middle school — but there was something in your gut yelling at you to be careful, that they represented danger you could not deal with. Not just because of the obvious fact that they were your kidnappers. Not even because the guy on the left had a fucking katana strapped to his hip.

It was that chilly, strange feeling that usually meant there was a creature nearby.

You’d never felt this for a person before.

The goatee guy hummed and measured you up and down.

“She broke the seals. You shoulda made sure these seals would work, huh, Hideki?” His voice was raspy. Was he talking like a stereotypical Yakuza member on purpose? Did he think he sounded cool doing that?

“Ain’t my fault. The seals were pretty tight.” The guy on the left replied. Why was he also talking like that?! He opened a smirk, exposing a set of the yellowest teeth you’d ever seen. “This only means she really is the one, right?”

“Uh-huh.” The goatee guy smirked too and caressed said goatee. “Just like they told us, aye?”

“This one’s gonna make us a ton of money.” The one on the right said with a stupidly high pitched voice.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You felt stupid — why would they answer? Why even ask in the first place? In fact — seals?! What were they talking about?!

“Knock her out again. And make better seals this time.” Goatee guy ignored you completely. The guy on the left stepped closer, which spiked your panic once again.

You could move now, but what difference did that make against three people? You were weak, standing pathetically, shaking from head to toe.

“No! No!” You yelled when he gripped your wrist and pulled you without any effort.

“No one’s gonna hear you. It’s useless.”

“Fuck you!”

You punched his face.

It was a sloppy, weak punch with your non-dominant hand — not enough to make him release you, but enough to make him angry.

He gripped your hair with his free hand and pulled aggressively; it felt like he was going to rip the strands off the scalp, making you scream again — in pain this time.

“Fucking bitch—“

And then you were on the ground.

And he was on the ground, too. And goatee guy. And the baby voice guy.

And everyone was on the ground, because the roof had exploded.

You didn’t have time to look up or scream or even properly register what the fuck had happened before you were shocked against the wet floor. It sounded like a bomb had dropped over your head, and concrete and steel cracked like paper, and the sound was deafening and disorienting and it felt like oxygen was sucked off your lungs, and just like that — in seconds — half of the roof and the wall were gone, and it was all white because— because— the sun is still up! The sun was up and your eyes weren’t used to the brightness, and there was dust in your mouth which made you cough, and your head hurt and you didn’t know what was happening— what—

What—

There was a guy.

And he was floating.

Your brain was overloaded with information. You had stepped on a mutant rat. You had been kidnapped. You spontaneously combusted in black flames. The place where you were exploded. And now—

There was a guy floating meters above you, from the immense hole caused by the explosion. Like, an actual person. Floating.

Your ears were buzzing, your eyes were still adjusting to the sudden sunlight; for some moments, all you could see was a silhouette. And for a second, one of the little people in your head breathed out in awe and disbelief: Jesus?

It wasn’t Jesus.

Jesus didn’t have white hair, as far as you knew.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, confused and disoriented, the extremely high pitched buzz still ringing in your ears; it felt that your head was underwater. Sounds were muffled. You didn’t really see the moment he — Albino Jesus? — got down, but all of sudden he was hovering over you — his torso leaning down to look at you closely, his feet on each side of you.

“Looking” was a bit of a stretch.

He was… blindfolded?

And grinning.

“Happy to see me?” His deep, lighthearted (?), excited voice reached your ears through the buzz. You couldn’t help but note how his teeth were so perfectly white, the complete opposite of katana guy.

“What—?” You managed to mumble somehow, still feeling the horrid taste of dust in your tongue.

“Nah, no need to get emotional. We ain’t got time for this.”

He offered his open hand in your direction, and for a moment you thought he was helping you to your feet… but you heard a strange zzuup, an inescapable attraction, and then suddenly you were off the ground without doing any effort – towards his palm. Your back was glued to it as if he was a magnet and you, a coin. You saw yourself weightless, floating beside his body.

You felt like a potato sack if potato sacks didn’t have weight.

No. A potato sack is too nice. He was carrying you like a dog.

Your stomach twirled.

You wanted to take a better look at his face (what was visible of it), but the three guys were up to their feet again and you went cold. What was worse: the three kidnappers, or floating Jesus?

However, their reactions took you completely off guard.

They took protective stances. Their expressions weren’t mocking or relaxed anymore… they were… scared?

Frightened, in fact.

“Oooh?” Floating Jesus hummed in that same excited tone again. His voice seemed to be naturally loud. “You want this nurse so bad that you’re willing to fight me for her?”

What?! I’m not a—

“This is fucked up, man,” baby voice guy stuttered. “It wasn’t on the contract that we’d have to face Gojo Satoru.”

Floating Jesus pointed his finger at baby voice guy.

“So you’re not willing to fight. At least someone’s honest!”

Your brain didn’t properly register what happened next, partly because it couldn’t believe it.

Space around baby voice guy’s body twisted; it was like looking at someone’s warped reflex on rippled water. But that wasn’t simply a warped reflex or an illusion. He yelled in pain, a yell that came from his guts — and you watched in real time as his arms and legs warped with the twisted space around him, heard the nauseating noise of his bones crushing in different angles, saw the blood splashing from his wounds and his body falling flat on the floor.

Your jaw dropped.

There was no time to let that image sink in. The other two guys ran in different directions – trying to flee.

Floating Jesus giggled.

Your stomach dropped with your jaw when he moved, dragging your weightless body along; fast fast fast, he moved too fast for your eyes to follow, making everything look like an incomprehensible blur. In the blink of an eye, he was floating again above countless roofs; it looked like a residential neighborhood — and you looked down, and you were too high, way too high, and he wasn’t even really holding you, your back was just glued to his palm and what if he dropped you— what if—

You screamed.

“Don’t shout in my ear, woman.” He whined.

“We’re gonna fall! We’re gonna—”

He had moved again.

You were closer to the street this time and at that point you wondered if your brain was lagging, because how the hell could you be in a spot in a second and in another spot a second later?! You found what he was looking for — katana guy, running down the street at a speed that didn’t even look human. And yet, it was still not match for Floating Jesus.

He stopped in front of katana guy.

“Boo.”

That thing happened again – warped space, warped limbs, screams and broken bones and blood. You wanted to vomit. And he did it again, and suddenly you were in another street, and there was a car? A black car? And a nervous looking guy in a suit standing near the car, and you didn’t know what the fuck was happening, and—

“Megumiii, the last one’s yours!” He said in a sing-song voice. “Don’t let him escape!”

And maybe you heard a familiar male voice saying “understood” before the sound of fast steps echoing down the street.

And then finally, your feet touched the ground again.

Your body had weight. It was heavy, it was tired. Your head hurt, your stomach was still doing twirls, you were dizzy and confused and something inside your brain felt about to explode—

“Case solved! We got the nurse back!” He said in an obnoxiously happy tone— and maybe if you hadn’t noticed with the corner of your eye that he was about to touch your arm, you wouldn’t have done it.

But you did it anyway.

You slapped him.

It was instinctive. Your palm found its way to his cheek with speed and strength that could only be fueled by panic. The slap echoed on the street, turned his head to the side abruptly, made his cheek burn in bright red.

The suit guy gasped audibly.

Even Floating Jesus seemed shocked. Not that you could tell for sure because of the blindfold, but his jaw was dropped.

Yeah, your brain was definitely lagging. You could’ve said a hundred things. A hundred questions. You could’ve tried to run away. You could’ve tried screaming for help.

And yet, the only thing you said – pointing at him angrily as if he had called your mom a bitch — was:

“I am not a nurse!”

That was around a second before your brain completely shut off.

You had time to see the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

And then—

Darkness.

A/N: AND OUR STORY BEGINS!!! GOSH!! So much stuff happens this chapter. But I wanted to start this story with adrenaline!! Next chapter we'll have time to sit down and talk (hopefully) ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ If you read it this far, please don't forget to leave a comment or interact somehow! Feedback always motivates me to keep writing. Let me know if you guys are excited about the story too! 💞 Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! See you <3

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 1

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! First of all, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance!! - This self-indulgent mess starts a little before JJK 0. - Reader is roughly a year younger than Gojo. - We're gonna dig HEAVILY into grief, especially deceased parents, so beware if this is a sensitive topic for you! - This is an afab!reader situation, so no specific physical traits will be described. I am giving you a nickname tho, because I'd rather eat shit than pollute my text with "Y/N" ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) - And as usual, English is not my first language. Enjoy!! <3

⤕ Masterlist: soon! ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

It was a shift like any other before the kidnapping happened.

The emergency room is never a calm environment, of course, let alone of a big city. But the previous night, it felt that the gates of hell opened in the grounds of the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. It was that type of shift that let nurses with their hairs disheveled and eyes widened and doctors running from side to side and the endless noise of stretcher’s wheels around the halls and ambulance sirens and for fuck’s sake the coffee machine is broken again I will kill myself.

A shift like any other. Yeah.

There were two car crashes. Or three. You stopped counting after the third exposed fracture. A big festival happened in Shinjuku – or something like that – which always results in drunk people doing drunk people atrocities. There were a few cases of alcohol-induced coma, too, and a couple guys needing stitches on their faces because they got into fist fights. Also two heart attacks? Some old lady fell down the stairs of her home.

Yeah. Yeah, there was a lot of stuff happening at the same time.

Maybe that’s why you were so inattentive, that morning. The clocks marked 8AM; the sun had risen above the city and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe it was the coffee’s fault (or the lack of it, since the machine broke sometime past midnight). Or the energy drinks. Or the full pack of cigarettes you smoked. Or the salad you ate hours ago. Uh. There were a lot of things going on with you, actually, and not very professional on your part, but it was your second 24 hour shift that week, and you hadn’t really slept between the shifts, which meant you’d been awake for… huh… twenty hours straight?

Dad would’ve killed me if he knew, you thought.

Dad. Maybe you should’ve listened to your dad back then, when he said you should pick another specialty. A cardiologist like him, probably. Or a gynecologist. Some area that would allow you to work in a calm clinic, with a much higher salary and a more reasonable lifestyle.

It’s what anyone would want, of course, after years and years of studying: a respectable profession that gives you tons of money. But you weren’t like dad. You needed that adrenaline, and you needed the cigarettes and the coffee and the energy drinks, and you needed to be so overworked that your brain wouldn’t stop for a second to think about that other thing.

July 18th, 2017 – your phone screen showed. You only survived the 17th thanks to all of that.

Which didn’t mean your brain wasn’t reduced to jelly inside your skull at that point, of course.

“You look like you’re on cocaine.”

Remi stared at you with a mix of judging and concern in her eyes. She sat behind the nurse’s counter, while you leaned on it in front of her.

“I don’t.” You shrugged and took one more sip of the warm water from the plastic cup. Remi tightener her eyes.

“Your pupils are two black wholes. You look insane right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“How many energy drinks did you take?” Her perfect eyebrow quirked up.

“Not many.”

“This alone implies you had more than one. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You shrugged again, half of your face hidden behind the plastic cup.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

You weren’t annoyed at her. Remi was the responsible one, and you were the reckless one. This was your dynamic. It worked well. And she couldn’t really judge you, not while you spent the night in the seventh ring of hell while she spent her shift in the calm, silent inpatient unit.

“I’d rather be actually high right now, to be honest.” You admitted quietly. Remi nodded. She put some strands of honey blonde hair behind her ear delicately.

“Yeah. Me too.” Not so responsible. “Keito-kun was in Shinjuku… he sent me many photos.” A pout slowly took for in her lips. “He had invited me, you know. We were supposed to be there together.”

You tightened your eyes slowly.

“I thought you had stopped talking to him.”

“That was past week, darling. Things change.”

“Right.” Yeah, definitely not very responsible.

“But that’s not the point. The summer festival looked so fun! And there were so many hot guys there, too…”

“But weren’t you supposed to be there with Keito-kun?”

“I can multitask.”

You cackled. She followed. It was probably the first time you smiled that day.

You opened Mayu’s contact impatiently again. She had chosen some anime boy as her current icon. You tapped your index finger over the counter, trying to ignore the fact that your hands were shaking a bit.

“Mayu’s not answering me.” You mumbled. Remi typed something on her computer, not bothering to lift her eyes to you.

“It’s 8AM on a Saturday. No normal person is awake at this hour.”

“I think she went to Shinjuku behind my back.”

Remi pursed her lips and hummed. “...It’s the type of thing I would do as a teenager.”

“Me too.”

“So you can’t really judge her, can you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be the responsible one now, aren’t I?” You didn’t plan on sounding exasperated all of sudden, and you didn’t plan on making your breathing get faster or your eyes widening, and maybe Remi was right, maybe you did look like someone on cocaine, and maybe you should really stop with the energy drinks – oh shit stop stop stop. One thought at a time. One thought at a time.

“Oh, come on. Even if she went there, Mayu is pretty level headed for her age. Much more than I was. I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s sleeping right now and you’re overreacting.”

Yeah. Maybe. You’d call Aunt Junko later to make sure she actually slept there instead of sneaking out (Aunt Junko wasn’t that great with messaging apps. You had bought her a new phone, but she only knew how to accept and decline calls). But how could you not be anxious and overreact if yesterday was that day?

You knew – Mayu wasn’t as affected as you were. She was way too young when everything happened, after all. But still, now that most of the craziness of past night was slowly leaving your system, you felt guilt slowly grow inside of you. Was it a bit selfish to choose to work a shift in such a date? What if she was upset that you left her alone?

July 18th, the notification bar showed. Yesterday, July 17th.

July 17th.

Shit. Stop thinking about that other thing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To not think about it. So don’t think about it. It was yesterday anyway. It’s over.

Remi yawned.

“When are you leaving?”

“At nine thirty.” You groaned and massaged your own forehead. “Shit. Just remembered I’ll have to go home by subway.”

“Thank God, I wouldn’t let you drive in this state.” She tightened her eyes at you again. It was funny to see her going mom mode, even though she didn’t have children. “You should take better care of your health, girl. An ER doctor trying to have a heart attack? You’ll enter this hospital as a patient one of these days!”

You nodded tiredly. “I know. My bad.”

To be fair, usually you wouldn’t be so reckless. In a normal day, just plain caffeine and a few breaks to smoke would carry you through a full shift smoothly. It’s just that… it wasn’t a normal day. But you didn’t have it in you to try to justify yourself, because if you tried, you’d have to talk about that other thing, and you didn’t want to do it.

Before any of you could say anything, the soft ring of an electronic bell caught your attention. You tiptoed over the counter to see the panel of alarm lights. The little light from Room 32 glowed in green.

“Mrs. Hamazaki’s room.” Remi sighed and got up from her chair, sending you a pleading look. “I know you’re on your break, but can you cover me for a while? Just until Misa-san comes back. If a patient calls, dial downstairs… but she should be back in five minutes.”

You still had thirteen minutes left. Technically you shouldn’t, but you decided to shrug and walk to the other side of the counter anyway. “Sure.”

Remi patted your shoulder as you settled on her chair and put the stethoscope around her neck, disappearing down the quiet hallway towards Room 32.

Quiet. Real quiet, here.

You sighed, suddenly feeling an invisible weight worth tons over your shoulders. Sleep was finally starting to take space inside your head. Just the thought that you still had to take the subway – even for just a few stations –, shower, eat something and probably scold Mayu for going to Shinjuku (you knew her too well) made you feel tired.

But it’s fine. You’d have the next three days off, thanks to the two consecutive shifts you took.

You placed your phone standing over the desk, balancing it on the computer screen, and opened the front camera – just to immediately regret it. Jesus Christ, you really looked insane; your hair looked like a bird’s nest, dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped (you were so sure Mayu stole your lip balm)… everything about you was wrong. You immediately untied the loose bun and tied it again, trying to make your hair look at least a little more presentable. A small part of your brain tried to remember the last time you wore something nice, went to a hair salon or put makeup beyond just some soft mascara and blush… it was two months ago, maybe. Or three.

Fuck.

That’s the life you chose, right?

Nine minutes to the end of your break.

An annoying, familiar sound caught your attention. You frowned and got up to peek from over the counter.

Disgust immediately set in your stomach.

Other than the broken coffee machine or the new nurse that took ages to get a single blood sample or that old man that yelled at you because his case was sooo much worse than a car crash victim (he just had back pain) or the paramedic that gave you he wrong prognosis or the drunk patient flirting with you or that test result that arrived two hours late, that fucking thing on the floor was what made you truly feral the entire shift.

Except – you couldn’t sneak into the inpatients unit to complain about it with Remi, because apparently, no one else could see it.

It’s not as if you weren’t used to it. In fact, you were so used to it that you could fully ignore it, because that’s what adults do. Oh, you’re seeing a creature that looks straight out of Silent Hill? No, you’re fucking not. No one else is seeing it, so I’m not seeing it either.

It was also very unprofessional to be showing clear signs of schizophrenia and not being brave enough to confess it to a psychiatrist, sure. But it wasn’t a today thing. It was an always thing, because you’d always seen these things, and it was already so familiar that it didn’t shock you anymore. Maybe you could’ve done something about it when you were a kid, but now? At your big age? As you were so close to completing your residency? Fuck no.

This one wasn’t even as gruesome as the others you’d seen. But hell, how annoying it was.

“Chuuuuu…” the creepy little thing moaned. It looked like a rat – an obese, hairless, in advanced state of decomposition rat; its legs were too short and thin for the rest of the body, hence why it moved around slowly, dragging itself on the cool floor. And shit, it smelled so bad; its stench immediately overwhelmed the usual smell of antiseptic of the hall.

That fucking thing.

It kept chuuuu-ing in your ear the entire shift. It wandered around the ER room, and you crossed its slow path many times, trying to not look too insane as you avoided stepping on it. Even when you were far from it, you’d still hear the chuuuuuu and it was making you go nuts.

Again. Maybe it was the date or your maniacal mental state that made you so bothered with it. You’d see these things almost weekly at the hospital; they were all irritating, but they were also small and easy to ignore. You’d encountered far worse before. Yet, you just couldn’t stand it this time.

“Chuuuuuuu…” it repeated again. You grimaced.

“Shut the fuck up,” you finally hissed in something between a whisper and a yell, because you’d been holding back this entire time and now there was no one to witness you cussing at nothing.

Seven minutes to the end of your break.

The fucking thing looked at you.

It moved its hairless head slowly in your direction. Its eyes were white and empty. It… it lifted its head to look at you.

You froze in place.

You were looking at it, and it was looking back. It was looking. It was seeing.

That was new.

The thing screeched.

Like a rodent in a trap, but angrier. It… it looked angry, now. Its fat face retorted, exposing a set of sharp teeth, drool dripping from its mouth.

That was also new.

It changed directions. Before, it was crawling down the hallway; now, it crawled towards the counter – much faster than it was before. Towards you.

That was also very new.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, looking to your sides; the hallway was still empty. Your hallucinations were trying to attack you now? Shit, what if Remi was right and you were actually high? What if someone spiked your energy drink? Where the hell was that Misa-san she talked about? There’s no way– no way you’d deal with that alone.

The rat thing crawled closer. Closer. You got up from the chair.

“Shoo,” you tried, feeling a mix of urgency and disgust and sheer embarrassment because hey, were you trying to shoo a mutant rat that apparently only existed in your head?! You looked to your sides again, over the counter, waiting for anyone to appear – but the hallway was still dead empty.

It crossed the counter, screeching angrily. You stepped back and almost hit your back on a cabinet behind you. “Go away!” You whispered again. It only caused it to screech louder.

The thing opened and closed its jaws, biting the air around your feet. It was trying to bite you.

“No!” You tiptoed, trying to avoid it. The thing screeched so loud that it hurt your eardrums. It aimed at your ankles; its teeth were dead sharp, and it was drooling, and it was so much more disgusting from up close, and it smelled of rotten flesh, and it was going to bite your ankles, and– and–

“No!”

You stomped on it.

The thing exploded.

Its insides splashed around your right foot like it was nothing but a balloon filled with water, but instead of water it was purple rotten slime. You stood there, paralyzed, staring at your foot, the rat’s guts splashed on the floor – when suddenly, right before your eyes, its remains started to vaporize in black dust.

And then, in less than 5 seconds, there was only purple blood.

Or you thought that was blood.

That was all very fucking new.

“Ew!” A visceral disgusted groan erupted from your throat. You looked around again frantically (No one! Where the hell was that Misa-san girl?!), not knowing if you wished someone would see this or thankful that no one witnessed you murdering a… uh… rat? Rodent?

You were feeling its warm blood drip down your ankles and inside your socks, staining your white tennis shoe and the hem of your navy blue pants. That thing was real.

“Ew! Ew!” You whispered again. You hopped on one foot towards the paper towels on the wall, taking as many as you could and wiping the blood from your shoe the best way you could. I’m gonna get rabies, the thought crossed your mind, spiking your panic. I’m gonna get mutant rabies. I need to disinfect this. Disinfectant! Shit, I killed a wild animal or whatever that thing was– but I wasn’t expecting it to fucking implode like that! How did it get inside the hospital anyway?! Should I call animal control? How am I going to explain this–

“Excuse me?”

You yelped and turned around in a jump.

There was a boy.

He stood on the other side of the counter, eyeing you with a slight frown. His hair was a gracious mess of spiked black strands; he wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His eyelashes were ridiculously long (in a jealous tone), contrasting with his pale white skin.

Oh. Ooooh.

You eyed the identification sticker glued to the right side of his chest (remembering names is not a doctor’s forte).

“Oh. Hello, Fushiguro-kun. Good morning.” You swiftly threw the dirty tissues in the trash can under the counter, away from his eyesight. “How can I help you?”

Technically you shouldn’t help him because this was not your area and that Misa-san girl should be here already, but not only were you trying to not look so awkward and not let a visitor know you had just killed a wild animal inside the hospital – you had a soft spot for him. Everyone had, to be honest.

“Good morning, Mori-san.” You noticed how he didn’t look at your ID badge, he just remembered your name. Such a good kid. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that… I thought I heard something.”

Great.

“Really? Heard what?”

Fushiguro tightened his eyes again. Why did he look so suspicious?

“Something strange.”

Greeeat. The boy heard me stomp on a wild animal. Fantastic.

“Must’ve been outside, I guess. It’s really silent here.” Years of calming hysterical patients made you perfect the ability of offering a calm, unsuspecting smile. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Which was something stupid to ask twice, because there was nothing you could help him with… and you had tried before.

You first met Fushiguro back in April.

It was your shift when his older sister, Fushiguro Tsumiki, was admitted to the hospital.

She came unconscious in an ambulance with a shivering, panicked friend of hers, both wearing school uniforms. You didn’t remember the specifics, but they were out of school doing something they clearly shouldn’t when Tsumiki blacked out, in her friend’s words. Your first assumption was alcoholic coma, obviously, even though her friend denied it vehemently (what teenager wants to get caught drinking in school hours?). She also stated that Tsumiki hadn’t hit her head anywhere, which was true: there were no signs of concussion or any other injury anywhere in her body. No convulsion, drooling or bleeding. Her vital signs were perfectly fine. And yet, Tsumiki wouldn’t wake up.

Around an hour after she was admitted, Fushiguro arrived. You remember asking where their parents were, but he was so frenetic that you decided to explain the situation to him before they could come. You told Fushiguro about her health status. You explained that she was going through a tomography at that moment and she still had more exams to take, but despite the unconsciousness, she was stable.

Your shift ended. You went home. The sight of that lonely, scared teenager stuck with you – maybe because he reminded you of Mayu.

The next day, you discovered that Tsumiki had been transferred from the ER to the ICU. She was none of your business anymore. And yet, during your break, you decided to check her test results out of curiosity.

There were no signs of alcohol or drugs in her blood.

No concussion, aneurysm, tumor or stroke. Her brain was perfectly fine.

And yet – Tsumiki would not wake up.

You were always busy with patients. It was hard to keep track of each case, and after someone was transferred out of the ER, you usually didn’t have time to check on them. But that girl intrigued you (and pretty much the entire medical staff). She was not brain dead; instead, her brain was working on a low frequency, as if she was simply asleep.

An inexplicable coma?

The entire situation kept coming back to you, not just due to the sheer absurdity of it, but also because of the boy.

Fushiguro came to visit every day during the first month. Remi always talked about him. Other nurses talked about him, too, always in a heartbroken tone. You’d cross his path in the hospital sometimes, and when you did, you’d make sure to check on him.

Whenever you saw him, your heart tightened.

He did remind you too much of Mayu. It made you think of her in this state if you were hospitalized. It broke your heart even more after you learned they were orphans. The whole thing just hit too close to home.

It was one of these situations that made you wonder, if I had done something different when she arrived, would I have saved her?

These days, he visited the hospital once or twice a week, always alone – which made you genuinely worried for him, since he was orphaned. Who was taking care of that boy? You went as far as checking Tsumiki’s file again, only to note that they had a legal guardian (well, someone had to be paying for the medical expenses, right?). Remi explained that said legal guardian did visit her sometimes as well (and she didn’t forget to mention how hot he was, apparently), you just happened to never be there when he was.

Tsumiki was currently in a room down the hallway. The visiting hours started at 8 o’clock, and there he was, always punctual.

And still eyeing you with suspicion.

Boy, I like you, but you’re starting to piss me off right now.

“...No, thank you,” he finally said, stepping away slowly. “I guess it was nothing.” Fushiguro offered you a polite bow. “Excuse me. Have a good job.”

You watched him walk out of the inpatients unit through the door.

Only then did you breathe again.

Three minutes to the end of your break.

Shit. You were going to get late. Where the fuck was Misa-san?! In fact, where was everybody in this goddamn ward?! You rushed to grab the phone and dialed the infirmary extension, ready to yell at someone, taping your fingertips over the desk impatiently. You’d have to explain yourself about the mutant rodent later – and you wouldn’t bother to clean that blood, not after Misa-san pissed you off by being late. Is no one going to pick it up?!

Two minutes to the end of your break.

The soft ring of an electronic bell.

Great. Fantastic.

You eyed the panel of alarms over the desk angrily. I don’t even know who Misa-san is, but I already hate her.

But then – you froze.

The alarm light was glowing in red. Emergency.

Over each alarm, there were stickers with the names of the patients occupying the rooms.

Room 39.

Fushiguro Tsumiki.

Your stomach dropped.

You put the phone down and ran down the hallway.

Is this really happening? Is it a mistake? What if the alarm is broken–? It didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that you were going to get late and that this wasn’t your job. That was Tsumiki, and her brother had just left the room barely a minute ago. What if a miracle had just happened?! You’d still have time to run after him to tell him the news!

Room 39 was at the end of the corridor. Without a second thought, you barged in.

You were greeted by darkness.

The curtains were closed. Barely any light from outside reached the room. You tattered the wall, searching for the switch. It didn’t turn the lights on.

But you could still see the outline of her body.

Laying on the hospital bed. The covers up to her chest. Sleeping peacefully.

And for a second, you thought it really was just a mistake; the alarm went off on its own for some reason.

Until you saw someone holding the button.

It was dark; you couldn’t really see. But your body felt it. Your senses. You felt it, with something primitive and instinctive inside of you, felt it with your soul.

There was something terribly, terribly, terribly wrong happening.

And it was like the world outside of that small hospital room didn’t exist anymore. You couldn’t hear anything behind that door; only the darkness that surrounded you, and the cold – it was freezing cold – creeping up your legs and arms like frost. Your lungs failed. Adrenaline pumped in your veins. You didn’t want to turn your back to that thing, because your instincts knew that was a bad idea. And yet, you knew you had to run.

You turned the doorknob in a swift motion.

But it was already too late.

You had time to feel an icy cold hand grip around your wrist.

Then – darkness.

Megumi felt himself fill with anger as he waited for The Idiot.

He tapped his foot nervously, bit his fingernails even more nervously. He’d been trying to stop with this habit, but these days it felt nearly impossible. Not after everything that had been happening.

And certainly not after what happened an hour ago.

Which is what made him angrier. At himself.

Because he didn’t feel that presence until it was too late.

Megumi was inside the elevator, making his way to the ground floor of the hospital, when he felt that. The undeniable, chilling cursed energy – so strong that he could feel it from the other side of the building; it appeared suddenly, made the hairs in the nape of his neck rise, made his eyes widen and his heartbeat spike. Made him press the floor button angrily as if it’d make the elevator change directions out of nowhere.

Then came the explosion.

It shook the entire hospital. It cut the energy. It made him get stuck alone in the elevator for solid three minutes. It took him another three to run upstairs.

But it was already too late.

The cursed energy had disappeared, but not the immense hole on the wall that it – whatever it was – created in broad daylight.

Inside his sister’s room.

Panic filled the entire complex building. He heard people yelling, running, nurses rushing to get patients out of the ward, the distant sound of sirens. There was no fire, however – what created that hole on the wall wasn’t normal. All of that was a blur inside Megumi’s mind.

A hole. Cursed energy. Something inside Tsumiki’s room, minutes after he left.

She was unharmed. Some debris hit her cheek, but other than a small bruise, she was “fine”. That didn’t calm him.

What just happened? Why it happened? Why her?

The hospital was packed with police, firefighters and reporters now. As expected, lawyers already tried to talk to him (desperate for him not to sue them), but it was no use talking to a minor. They wanted his legal guardian.

The Idiot.

If he even felt like coming, that was.

There’s no way he’s not coming, Megumi tried to calm himself. This isn’t just because of Tsumiki. Something strange happened here. He needs to check.

Though – maybe there was a tiny part of him wishing he wouldn’t come…

Well. That was too late.

The familiar black sedan peeked around the corner.

And there he was.

The Idiot walked out of the car with his usual nonchalant posture, holding an opened chocolate Pocky pack. Megumi half expected him to immediately hit him with a joke, or scolding passed as a joke, or downplay the situation–

But The Idiot looked in the direction of the East ward and hummed.

Megumi couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the man was frowning.

Great. So he knows I’m not overreacting.

“Scandalous, heh?” The Idiot mumbled as he stepped closer. “Too many people here. I don’t like it.”

Ijichi walked out of the car as well, looking nervous as usual. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while typing something on his phone. “Should I notify the school?”

“Yep.” The Idiot put a Pocky in his mouth.

He walked towards the reception, not waiting for anyone. Megumi saw Ijichi about to say something else – probably that The Idiot shouldn’t get involved before Jujutsu High took responsibility over the case –, but he kind of had permission to do whatever he wanted, so Ijichi stopped himself and pressed the phone on his ear with a sigh of defeat.

Megumi followed him inside the hospital shortly.

“What do you think it was?”

The Idiot shrugged. “Dunno. Gotta take a closer look.” Normal people weren’t allowed to walk in, but he simply ignored it. “Is Tsumiki okay?”

“Yes. She was taken to another room.”

He nodded while chewing. Megumi wanted to believe that The Idiot felt relieved upon hearing that, even though he had already said Tsumiki’s condition through the phone… but it was hard to tell.

“So, let me rewind it…” Megumi rushed to follow him into the elevator. “You were right here… and didn’t feel anything wrong?”

Megumi felt his ears get warm. He hated being reprimanded by The Idiot, and he hated failing, and he hated that it would give The Idiot material to tease him about it. The elevator doors closed.

“I did feel something strange… but…”

“You thought it was nothing?” The Idiot crossed his arms and pouted. “You let your critical thinking overrun your gut? C’mon, Megumi. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t judge me. This hospital is infested with Grade 4 curses. You know it.”

“Oh, but I can judge you.” The Idiot pointed at him with a Pocky. Despite his words, his tone wasn’t harsh – it was carefree as usual, and perhaps that pissed Megumi even more. “You told me you were taking care of the weakling curses. You said everything was under control, isn’t it? Boooo.” He flicked Megumi’s forehead, which made him inflate with even more anger. The Idiot pouted like a child and stepped away from him, pressing the pack of Pockys over his chest protectively. “Don’t look at me like that. I ain’t giving you any.”

“I don’t want your stupid–”

Ding. The elevator doors opened. The Idiot walked out before Megumi could finish the sentence.

As expected, the hallway was packed with policemen and firefighters. The door leading to the inpatients unit was protected by Keep Out yellow tapes, but The Idiot simply lifted it over his head and walked in.

A guard from the hospital immediately intercepted him. “Sir, this area is forbidden…”

And maybe the fact that he was two heads shorter than The Idiot made his confidence deflate, or the off-putting blindfold, or the simple fact that The Idiot had this strange way of acting like he owned anywhere he walked into and it always made people question themselves. Megumi had seen this same reaction countless times before. The guard cleared his throat and made an effort to broaden his shoulders.

“Sir, you may not enter the area unless authorized. I must ask who you are.”

“Oh. Right.” The Idiot had the decency to shove the Pockys inside the pocket of his jacket, at least. His tone was a mix of nonchalance and passive aggressiveness as usual. “You were looking for this little guy’s legal guardian. Here I am. The legal guardian.” He patted Megumi on the shoulder rather aggressively. “His legal guardian and of the girl who almost blew up inside your hospital, you know.”

The guard went pale.

A middle-aged man wearing a suit nearby observed the conversation and rushed nearer. Megumi recognized him – one of the hospital’s lawyers. He pressed his hands together and smiled nervously.

“Eh, you must be Gojo-san, isn’t it? It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve been waiting for your arrival–”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The Idiot kept walking.

Megumi followed. The nervous lawyer followed, too.

The nearer they got to the room at the end of the corridor, the more people gathered. The Idiot towered over all of them, making his way unhurriedly while the lawyer babbled. As he stood in front of Room 39’s open doors, a policeman tried to stop him, but the lawyer hushed:

“This man can end our hospital’s reputation. Please, let him take a look.”

The policeman let him step inside. Megumi followed.

The Idiot whistled.

“What a mess.”

Megumi’s stomach dropped. The wall that faced outside was destroyed; the steel beams were retorted, the concrete cracked even on the ceiling. A hole with a diameter of at least three meters.They still had to verify if the structure of that part of the building had the risk of completely crumbling, though Megumi doubted it. Now, the view to the hospital’s back gardens and the street just ahead was totally visible.

To know that Tsumiki laid right there when whatever or whoever caused this much destruction was… to know that the debris could’ve caused her much more harm… Tsumiki, asleep, defenseless…

The man beside him hummed and held his chin. In moments like this, Megumi wished he could see through his eyes.

“Sloppy work. There’s residue all over the place.”

“So… you don’t think this is the work of a curse?”

“Nope.”

Megumi’s worst suspicions.

Curse users.

Whoever was behind this was intelligent. Had intent. So maybe… maybe Tsumiki’s condition had intent behind it, too…

“I just don’t get why Tsumiki was unharmed.” The Idiot said. “Why draw this much attention if you’re going to leave her behind?”

Megumi had been asking himself this the entire time. It didn’t make any sense.

He sighed and crossed his arms. “Well. I guess keeping her here isn’t safe anymore. Though I don’t think Shoko will be okay with moving her to the school…”

Megumi knew that. Jujutsu High didn’t have the necessary staff or equipment to accommodate a patient in coma; that’s why Tsumiki was in this hospital in the first place. They already knew that her problem couldn’t be solved by normal doctors. She just needed a place to be properly taken care of until they found a solution.

“C’mon. Where is Tsumiki now? Gonna take a look at her.” The Idiot turned around. Megumi frowned and followed.

“What about the cursed energy residue?”

“Just the usual. We gotta track it.” The Idiot shrugged and walked down the hallway back to where they came from. The middle-aged lawyer approached again, babbling about how he was so eager to sit down with him and settle the situation extrajudicially (Megumi wanted to punch him on the face. His sister could’ve died and all he cared about was not getting sued?!). Said lawyer got pale when The Idiot absently handed him a simple black business card and told him to talk to his lawyers (plural), as he had no time in his schedule.

They waited for the elevator. The Idiot started chewing his Pockys again, humming a tune and tapping his foot to the rhythm.

Megumi hated that.

How he couldn’t even pretend to be worried for Tsumiki.

That was when another voice caught his attention.

“You’re not listening to me, sir.”

“I am listening, ma’am.”

“Then why are none of you taking action?! I spent the last hour explaining the same thing!”

“And I have already explained how the protocol works–”

“I am telling you that my friend was taken!”

Ding. The elevator doors opened.

Megumi walked to the other end of the corridor instead. The Idiot tilted his head to the side, calling his name, but he ignored it.

That was Yoshida Remi. The blonde nurse responsible over this floor’s inpatients unit. Megumi already knew her well at this point. He noticed how her forehead had a small bruise, and there were band-aids over her forearms; she was hurt by the explosion? Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, and her expression a mix of concern and frustration. An unwilling policeman stood in front of her, looking like he just wanted to get rid of the situation.

“In fact, Yoshida-san, you have failed to explain exactly what happened.”

She gripped her own hair and groaned. “I… I already told you! She was taken!”

“By who?”

“I…”

The policeman sighed and made an appeasing gesture with his palms turned to her. “I understand you must be in shock, ma’am, after witnessing an explosion. I believe it’s best for you to calm down first and organize your thoughts.”

“My thoughts are organized! My colleague works here and she’s nowhere to be found!”

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I already said– I told you that I got her phone!” The nurse almost scrubbed a phone on the policeman’s face, shaking it angrily in his direction. “How could I call her?!”

“Excuse me, officer.”

Megumi turned his head to see The Idiot approaching as well.

He touched the policeman’s shoulder and opened a small smile. “I’ll take it from here.”

Anyone normal would question the guy with the blindfold, but the officer was visibly so tired of that situation that he decided to simply nod and escape.

The nurse was taken aback. “Fushiguro-kun? You’re still here?” He saw a load of guilt cross her face. “I am so sorry for what happened to your sister. You have checked on her already, right? Fortunately, she was unscathed…”

“Yes. Yes, I saw her.” Megumi nodded.

The Idiot stepped closer. “What were you talking about? Your colleague was taken?”

Yoshida Remi’s eyes traveled to The Idiot – and at the same rate she was visibly confused by the blindfold, she also blushed. Megumi tried not to roll his eyes. “Gojo-san? I-I didn’t know you were an officer.”

“Yeah.” The Idiot smiled, not bothering to deny it. “So? Can you explain to me exactly what you saw?”

She dropped her eyes and frowned; the nurse was so, so, so visibly confused. “I-I… I’m not really sure of what I saw. But I saw. I heard a noise coming from Fushiguro-san’s room, so I went there to check it, and…” She scratched her head nervously. “I saw someone, or something, grab my friend and take her away. Then the explosion came and I’m even less sure of what happened, but…” She looked up again with frantic, widened eyes. “But she disappeared! I looked for her everywhere! Look, her phone was left behind, and I found her badge on the floor, too…”

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“It was Mori-san?”

She nodded. “Yes! You remember her, don’t you?!”

Of course Megumi remembered her. He saw her just minutes before the explosion happened… and she looked suspicious…

Surprisingly, The Idiot took the ID badge from the nurse’s hand and looked down at it.

His smile had vanished.

So had his nonchalant posture.

“Megumi.” The black haired boy frowned at his tone – lower? More serious? “Let’s go.”

He also took the phone from the nurse’s hand and turned around without explaining anything.

“What? Are you making a police report?”

The Idiot threw her a thumbs up without looking back. “Yep! No worries!”

Megumi bowed at the confused blonde nurse politely before running after him. “Where are we going?!”

“We’re going to solve a kidnapping, silly. Ain’t it obvious?” He flicked Megumi’s temple again to his utmost anger. Luckily, the elevator’s doors were already opened, so both rushed in. The black sedan and Ijichi were waiting in the same spot.

“Good news, though.” The Idiot said while chewing more Pocky. “I don’t think this had anything to do with Tsumiki at all.”

“What…?”

The Idiot, as usual, did not elaborate.

Surprisingly, he sat on the passenger’s seat instead of the backseats, which for some reason made Ijichi sweat. While Megumi adjusted his seatbelt, Ijichi asked nervously:

“Where to next, Gojo-san?”

The Idiot hummed.

With his thumb, he pushed the black blindfold up to his forehead, exposing his right eye. His cyan iris seemed to glow faintly.

“...Hmm… Sanya, I guess.” He put the blindfold back in place and excitedly reached for the radio, immediately turning it up to an obnoxious volume. “I’m not picking any of your boring songs, Ijichi!”

The driver shivered.

One day, Megumi would land a much deserving punch on his face.

It was freezing.

All of your senses were slow as consciousness awakened again. No hearing, no seeing, no smelling or tasting. But you could feel that it was cold.

The second thing you could feel was your teeth chattering.

The third, a discomfort on the entire left side of your body: you were laying on a hard floor. Your neck hurt from the way your head hung.

The fourth was the fact that you couldn’t move.

You could feel your limbs, but there was no strength to them, as if the cable that connected your brain to your limbs was ripped off. Your body was useless.

That’s when panic started to settle in.

What the fuck was going on?!

Finally, you could see again.

The place was dimly lit by… candles? That was it, probably, judging by the way shadows flickered on the walls. Each breath of yours produced small clouds of steam. It was a relatively large room; the concrete floor under your body was wet. The place smelled like a butcher shop. Were you inside a meat locker? That should be it, judging by how stupidly cold it was. With your peripheral vision, you could see that there was a plastic curtain somewhere in the corner.

Your teeth chattered, but that was an involuntary motion. You could move your eyeballs and that was it. The rest of your body – numb.

A million thoughts per minute rushed in your head. A spinal fracture? Had you completely lost movement?

You were laying in fetal position: leg to leg, arm to arm. You tried your best to look down…

You were… mummified?

That was the only description. There was… paper wrapped around your body. Yellowed paper, old looking, with inscriptions that you couldn’t really recognize. From what you could see, only your head was free from it.

Panic really really really settled in.

Oh my fucking God. What is happening?! Where am I?! What happened– wait, try to remember. Try to remember. I was working. I was in the hospital. I stepped on a weird looking rat. My break was close to ending. I rushed to a room because the alarm was on and– and– what happened after that?! What–?

You heard steps.

It made your heartbeat spike up.

Shit. Shit. Oh my God. Oh my God. I was kidnapped.

It was more than one pair of feet – two or three people? You couldn’t be sure, as you couldn’t fucking move your head to see it, but the noise clearly came from over that plastic curtain. Low male voices. It made violent shivers run your entire body.

Fear. Fear. Fear. You were frightened. A type of fear you’d never experienced before. It was visceral, colder than the temperature, scarier than any weird creature you’d seen before. You were in an actually dangerous situation and you couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

I’m being trafficked I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m–

The second little person living inside your head slaps the first little person on the face. Shut up!! Focus! Try to think of a way out!!

A window–?! You couldn’t turn your head to see if there was one. If this really was a meat locker, there shouldn’t be any. A familiar sound?! Cars outside–?! Nothing. The only things you could hear were the low voices of the unknown men nearby and a constant quiet buzz. A board?! A flyer?! Anything that might tell you where you are–?! Nothing to see on your field of view.

The first little person living inside your head starts freaking out again. I don’t know where I am I don’t know how long I’ve been knocked out I might be paraplegic I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die—

You’re not being useful!, the second little person yells, making the first little person recoil and shiver. You’ve watched these true crime documentaries! The probability of living if you don’t take action now are less than 10%! Do something now that we have a chance!

Right right right. They still hadn’t noticed that you were awake; you could only hope there was no one watching you from behind where you couldn’t see. You’d have to take advantage of this before anyone crossed the curtains.

You could feel your limbs and the pain and the discomfort, so a spinal fracture was less likely. Maybe they had anesthetized you and the effects were beginning to dissipate? What sort of anesthetic was that, by the way, to render anyone in this state? Gosh— if it really was general anesthesia, you were lucky to be alive to begin with.

Try to move. It felt silly to try to mechanically do something a body does on the automatic. You focused your senses on your left feet; the strange blood of the mutant rat had dried in your sock, becoming some sort of crust you could feel very well. You could feel that the shoelace was less tight than on the right foot. Try to move. Try to move. A spasm. A wiggle. Anything. Anything.

But nothing moved.

No matter how hard you tried.

Your breath became irregular and difficult as real, real, real panic spread through your system.

I am going to die.

Both little people inside your head were screaming now.

I can’t move. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t know what they’re gonna do. I don’t have a way out. I don’t have an escape plan. I can’t contact anyone. I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to—

Mayu.

The two little people shut up abruptly.

Mayu.

Fourteen year old Mayu, waiting for you to come home. Acting nonchalant at first but then getting really worried when you don’t pick up or text back. Mayu, going back to Aunt Junko’s house, not knowing what to do. Mayu, Mayu-chan, Mayuka, lonely and frightened the way you saw Fushiguro Megumi the evening that his older sister was brought in.

Mayu.

You couldn’t allow anyone to kill you.

You couldn’t just leave her behind.

Another feeling grew inside of you, spread like fire on hay; made the two little people run and hide. Overwhelmed the fear quickly.

Anger.

Who the fuck these men thought they were to kidnap you?! What right did they have?!

Anger mixed with frustration pumped even more adrenaline through your bloodstream; tears welled up your eyes, tightened your throat. I can’t be dragged around like a garbage bag! I can’t allow it! I have to do something!

USELESS BODY!! DO!! SOMETHING!!

It started like a point of heat — right in your heart.

You didn’t know what that was. For a brief second, you thought it was cardiac arrest — that’s probably what it’d feel like. It was hot, piping hot, made your blood boil, your vision blur in white; it spread through your skin, from your toes to your scalp. It was heat, it was energy, it was anger—

It was fire.

It was black. The flames — they were black; they enveloped your body, and it took a second to understand that this was not your imagination; you were in flames. You’d have screamed if you could. It took you another second, however, to realize that these flames weren’t burning you… not exactly.

They set the papers that wrapped your body on fire.

You watched in utter disbelief as the inscriptions on the papers seemed to glow for a moment before burning down to ashes.

All of that happened in less than ten seconds.

The black fire extinguished as if it’d never been there in the first place.

The strange yellowed paper that once enveloped your body — gone.

And all of sudden — you could move.

The cable was reconnected.

You got up in a jump; your limbs ached and you felt dizzy, but somehow managed to keep your balance. Your heart pounded in your chest, you gasped for air as if you’d been underwater, your fingers were shaking, you felt a terrible headache— and on top of that, you were tired as if you’d ran a marathon.

None of that mattered. You could move. You could run.

You didn’t even have time to look around, however — because the curtains were opened.

There were three men.

They were all relatively tall. The one in the middle had long black hair, an ugly goatee and tattoos on his forearms. Their clothes were pretty unimpressive. They… didn’t look threatening, not exactly — the one in the middle looked like someone you’d have beaten up in middle school — but there was something in your gut yelling at you to be careful, that they represented danger you could not deal with. Not just because of the obvious fact that they were your kidnappers. Not even because the guy on the left had a fucking katana strapped to his hip.

It was that chilly, strange feeling that usually meant there was a creature nearby.

You’d never felt this for a person before.

The goatee guy hummed and measured you up and down.

“She broke the seals. You shoulda made sure these seals would work, huh, Hideki?” His voice was raspy. Was he talking like a stereotypical Yakuza member on purpose? Did he think he sounded cool doing that?

“Ain’t my fault. The seals were pretty tight.” The guy on the left replied. Why was he also talking like that?! He opened a smirk, exposing a set of the yellowest teeth you’d ever seen. “This only means she really is the one, right?”

“Uh-huh.” The goatee guy smirked too and caressed said goatee. “Just like they told us, aye?”

“This one’s gonna make us a ton of money.” The one on the right said with a stupidly high pitched voice.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You felt stupid — why would they answer? Why even ask in the first place? In fact — seals?! What were they talking about?!

“Knock her out again. And make better seals this time.” Goatee guy ignored you completely. The guy on the left stepped closer, which spiked your panic once again.

You could move now, but what difference did that make against three people? You were weak, standing pathetically, shaking from head to toe.

“No! No!” You yelled when he gripped your wrist and pulled you without any effort.

“No one’s gonna hear you. It’s useless.”

“Fuck you!”

You punched his face.

It was a sloppy, weak punch with your non-dominant hand — not enough to make him release you, but enough to make him angry.

He gripped your hair with his free hand and pulled aggressively; it felt like he was going to rip the strands off the scalp, making you scream again — in pain this time.

“Fucking bitch—“

And then you were on the ground.

And he was on the ground, too. And goatee guy. And the baby voice guy.

And everyone was on the ground, because the roof had exploded.

You didn’t have time to look up or scream or even properly register what the fuck had happened before you were shocked against the wet floor. It sounded like a bomb had dropped over your head, and concrete and steel cracked like paper, and the sound was deafening and disorienting and it felt like oxygen was sucked off your lungs, and just like that — in seconds — half of the roof and the wall were gone, and it was all white because— because— the sun is still up! The sun was up and your eyes weren’t used to the brightness, and there was dust in your mouth which made you cough, and your head hurt and you didn’t know what was happening— what—

What—

There was a guy.

And he was floating.

Your brain was overloaded with information. You had stepped on a mutant rat. You had been kidnapped. You spontaneously combusted in black flames. The place where you were exploded. And now—

There was a guy floating meters above you, from the immense hole caused by the explosion. Like, an actual person. Floating.

Your ears were buzzing, your eyes were still adjusting to the sudden sunlight; for some moments, all you could see was a silhouette. And for a second, one of the little people in your head breathed out in awe and disbelief: Jesus?

It wasn’t Jesus.

Jesus didn’t have white hair, as far as you knew.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, confused and disoriented, the extremely high pitched buzz still ringing in your ears; it felt that your head was underwater. Sounds were muffled. You didn’t really see the moment he — Albino Jesus? — got down, but all of sudden he was hovering over you — his torso leaning down to look at you closely, his feet on each side of you.

“Looking” was a bit of a stretch.

He was… blindfolded?

And grinning.

“Happy to see me?” His deep, lighthearted (?), excited voice reached your ears through the buzz. You couldn’t help but note how his teeth were so perfectly white, the complete opposite of katana guy.

“What—?” You managed to mumble somehow, still feeling the horrid taste of dust in your tongue.

“Nah, no need to get emotional. We ain’t got time for this.”

He offered his open hand in your direction, and for a moment you thought he was helping you to your feet… but you heard a strange zzuup, an inescapable attraction, and then suddenly you were off the ground without doing any effort – towards his palm. Your back was glued to it as if he was a magnet and you, a coin. You saw yourself weightless, floating beside his body.

You felt like a potato sack if potato sacks didn’t have weight.

No. A potato sack is too nice. He was carrying you like a dog.

Your stomach twirled.

You wanted to take a better look at his face (what was visible of it), but the three guys were up to their feet again and you went cold. What was worse: the three kidnappers, or floating Jesus?

However, their reactions took you completely off guard.

They took protective stances. Their expressions weren’t mocking or relaxed anymore… they were… scared?

Frightened, in fact.

“Oooh?” Floating Jesus hummed in that same excited tone again. His voice seemed to be naturally loud. “You want this nurse so bad that you’re willing to fight me for her?”

What?! I’m not a—

“This is fucked up, man,” baby voice guy stuttered. “It wasn’t on the contract that we’d have to face Gojo Satoru.”

Floating Jesus pointed his finger at baby voice guy.

“So you’re not willing to fight. At least someone’s honest!”

Your brain didn’t properly register what happened next, partly because it couldn’t believe it.

Space around baby voice guy’s body twisted; it was like looking at someone’s warped reflex on rippled water. But that wasn’t simply a warped reflex or an illusion. He yelled in pain, a yell that came from his guts — and you watched in real time as his arms and legs warped with the twisted space around him, heard the nauseating noise of his bones crushing in different angles, saw the blood splashing from his wounds and his body falling flat on the floor.

Your jaw dropped.

There was no time to let that image sink in. The other two guys ran in different directions – trying to flee.

Floating Jesus giggled.

Your stomach dropped with your jaw when he moved, dragging your weightless body along; fast fast fast, he moved too fast for your eyes to follow, making everything look like an incomprehensible blur. In the blink of an eye, he was floating again above countless roofs; it looked like a residential neighborhood — and you looked down, and you were too high, way too high, and he wasn’t even really holding you, your back was just glued to his palm and what if he dropped you— what if—

You screamed.

“Don’t shout in my ear, woman.” He whined.

“We’re gonna fall! We’re gonna—”

He had moved again.

You were closer to the street this time and at that point you wondered if your brain was lagging, because how the hell could you be in a spot in a second and in another spot a second later?! You found what he was looking for — katana guy, running down the street at a speed that didn’t even look human. And yet, it was still not match for Floating Jesus.

He stopped in front of katana guy.

“Boo.”

That thing happened again – warped space, warped limbs, screams and broken bones and blood. You wanted to vomit. And he did it again, and suddenly you were in another street, and there was a car? A black car? And a nervous looking guy in a suit standing near the car, and you didn’t know what the fuck was happening, and—

“Megumiii, the last one’s yours!” He said in a sing-song voice. “Don’t let him escape!”

And maybe you heard a familiar male voice saying “understood” before the sound of fast steps echoing down the street.

And then finally, your feet touched the ground again.

Your body had weight. It was heavy, it was tired. Your head hurt, your stomach was still doing twirls, you were dizzy and confused and something inside your brain felt about to explode—

“Case solved! We got the nurse back!” He said in an obnoxiously happy tone— and maybe if you hadn’t noticed with the corner of your eye that he was about to touch your arm, you wouldn’t have done it.

But you did it anyway.

You slapped him.

It was instinctive. Your palm found its way to his cheek with speed and strength that could only be fueled by panic. The slap echoed on the street, turned his head to the side abruptly, made his cheek burn in bright red.

The suit guy gasped audibly.

Even Floating Jesus seemed shocked. Not that you could tell for sure because of the blindfold, but his jaw was dropped.

Yeah, your brain was definitely lagging. You could’ve said a hundred things. A hundred questions. You could’ve tried to run away. You could’ve tried screaming for help.

And yet, the only thing you said – pointing at him angrily as if he had called your mom a bitch — was:

“I am not a nurse!”

That was around a second before your brain completely shut off.

You had time to see the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

And then—

Darkness.

A/N: AND OUR STORY BEGINS!!! GOSH!! So much stuff happens this chapter. But I wanted to start this story with adrenaline!! Next chapter we'll have time to sit down and talk (hopefully) ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ If you read it this far, please don't forget to leave a comment or interact somehow! Feedback always motivates me to keep writing. Let me know if you guys are excited about the story too! 💞 Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! See you <3

[zorostitties]

Weak Point; 1

⤕ It's crazy how life can turn upside down overnight. In your case, life took a 180º turn the morning you discovered you were the weakness of the most powerful creature in the world.

From a normal citizen, you become Jujutsu Society's most coveted target. In a world where everyone wants your head on a silver platter, plagued by secrets of the past and struggling to balance what remains of your “normal” life, you are trapped in a situation you cannot escape.

And yet - amid the chaos, you slowly realize that you might be his weak point in ways that have nothing to do with sorcery.

pairing: gojo x (f) reader

genre: romance, fluff and humor, angst, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, "oh no we have to live in the same house" trope, fix-it fic (kinda)

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (in future parts), grief, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit language, me trying to be funny

rating: 18+

word count: 9k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! First of all, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance!! - This self-indulgent mess starts a little before JJK 0. - Reader is roughly a year younger than Gojo. - We're gonna dig HEAVILY into grief, especially deceased parents, so beware if this is a sensitive topic for you! - This is an afab!reader situation, so no specific physical traits will be described. I am giving you a nickname tho, because I'd rather eat shit than pollute my text with "Y/N" ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) - And as usual, English is not my first language. Enjoy!! <3

⤕ Masterlist: soon! ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

It was a shift like any other before the kidnapping happened.

The emergency room is never a calm environment, of course, let alone of a big city. But the previous night, it felt that the gates of hell opened in the grounds of the Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital. It was that type of shift that let nurses with their hairs disheveled and eyes widened and doctors running from side to side and the endless noise of stretcher’s wheels around the halls and ambulance sirens and for fuck’s sake the coffee machine is broken again I will kill myself.

A shift like any other. Yeah.

There were two car crashes. Or three. You stopped counting after the third exposed fracture. A big festival happened in Shinjuku – or something like that – which always results in drunk people doing drunk people atrocities. There were a few cases of alcohol-induced coma, too, and a couple guys needing stitches on their faces because they got into fist fights. Also two heart attacks? Some old lady fell down the stairs of her home.

Yeah. Yeah, there was a lot of stuff happening at the same time.

Maybe that’s why you were so inattentive, that morning. The clocks marked 8AM; the sun had risen above the city and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe it was the coffee’s fault (or the lack of it, since the machine broke sometime past midnight). Or the energy drinks. Or the full pack of cigarettes you smoked. Or the salad you ate hours ago. Uh. There were a lot of things going on with you, actually, and not very professional on your part, but it was your second 24 hour shift that week, and you hadn’t really slept between the shifts, which meant you’d been awake for… huh… twenty hours straight?

Dad would’ve killed me if he knew, you thought.

Dad. Maybe you should’ve listened to your dad back then, when he said you should pick another specialty. A cardiologist like him, probably. Or a gynecologist. Some area that would allow you to work in a calm clinic, with a much higher salary and a more reasonable lifestyle.

It’s what anyone would want, of course, after years and years of studying: a respectable profession that gives you tons of money. But you weren’t like dad. You needed that adrenaline, and you needed the cigarettes and the coffee and the energy drinks, and you needed to be so overworked that your brain wouldn’t stop for a second to think about that other thing.

July 18th, 2017 – your phone screen showed. You only survived the 17th thanks to all of that.

Which didn’t mean your brain wasn’t reduced to jelly inside your skull at that point, of course.

“You look like you’re on cocaine.”

Remi stared at you with a mix of judging and concern in her eyes. She sat behind the nurse’s counter, while you leaned on it in front of her.

“I don’t.” You shrugged and took one more sip of the warm water from the plastic cup. Remi tightener her eyes.

“Your pupils are two black wholes. You look insane right now.”

“I’m fine.”

“How many energy drinks did you take?” Her perfect eyebrow quirked up.

“Not many.”

“This alone implies you had more than one. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

You shrugged again, half of your face hidden behind the plastic cup.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes and huffed.

You weren’t annoyed at her. Remi was the responsible one, and you were the reckless one. This was your dynamic. It worked well. And she couldn’t really judge you, not while you spent the night in the seventh ring of hell while she spent her shift in the calm, silent inpatient unit.

“I’d rather be actually high right now, to be honest.” You admitted quietly. Remi nodded. She put some strands of honey blonde hair behind her ear delicately.

“Yeah. Me too.” Not so responsible. “Keito-kun was in Shinjuku… he sent me many photos.” A pout slowly took for in her lips. “He had invited me, you know. We were supposed to be there together.”

You tightened your eyes slowly.

“I thought you had stopped talking to him.”

“That was past week, darling. Things change.”

“Right.” Yeah, definitely not very responsible.

“But that’s not the point. The summer festival looked so fun! And there were so many hot guys there, too…”

“But weren’t you supposed to be there with Keito-kun?”

“I can multitask.”

You cackled. She followed. It was probably the first time you smiled that day.

You opened Mayu’s contact impatiently again. She had chosen some anime boy as her current icon. You tapped your index finger over the counter, trying to ignore the fact that your hands were shaking a bit.

“Mayu’s not answering me.” You mumbled. Remi typed something on her computer, not bothering to lift her eyes to you.

“It’s 8AM on a Saturday. No normal person is awake at this hour.”

“I think she went to Shinjuku behind my back.”

Remi pursed her lips and hummed. “...It’s the type of thing I would do as a teenager.”

“Me too.”

“So you can’t really judge her, can you?”

“Well, I’m supposed to be the responsible one now, aren’t I?” You didn’t plan on sounding exasperated all of sudden, and you didn’t plan on making your breathing get faster or your eyes widening, and maybe Remi was right, maybe you did look like someone on cocaine, and maybe you should really stop with the energy drinks – oh shit stop stop stop. One thought at a time. One thought at a time.

“Oh, come on. Even if she went there, Mayu is pretty level headed for her age. Much more than I was. I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s sleeping right now and you’re overreacting.”

Yeah. Maybe. You’d call Aunt Junko later to make sure she actually slept there instead of sneaking out (Aunt Junko wasn’t that great with messaging apps. You had bought her a new phone, but she only knew how to accept and decline calls). But how could you not be anxious and overreact if yesterday was that day?

You knew – Mayu wasn’t as affected as you were. She was way too young when everything happened, after all. But still, now that most of the craziness of past night was slowly leaving your system, you felt guilt slowly grow inside of you. Was it a bit selfish to choose to work a shift in such a date? What if she was upset that you left her alone?

July 18th, the notification bar showed. Yesterday, July 17th.

July 17th.

Shit. Stop thinking about that other thing. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To not think about it. So don’t think about it. It was yesterday anyway. It’s over.

Remi yawned.

“When are you leaving?”

“At nine thirty.” You groaned and massaged your own forehead. “Shit. Just remembered I’ll have to go home by subway.”

“Thank God, I wouldn’t let you drive in this state.” She tightened her eyes at you again. It was funny to see her going mom mode, even though she didn’t have children. “You should take better care of your health, girl. An ER doctor trying to have a heart attack? You’ll enter this hospital as a patient one of these days!”

You nodded tiredly. “I know. My bad.”

To be fair, usually you wouldn’t be so reckless. In a normal day, just plain caffeine and a few breaks to smoke would carry you through a full shift smoothly. It’s just that… it wasn’t a normal day. But you didn’t have it in you to try to justify yourself, because if you tried, you’d have to talk about that other thing, and you didn’t want to do it.

Before any of you could say anything, the soft ring of an electronic bell caught your attention. You tiptoed over the counter to see the panel of alarm lights. The little light from Room 32 glowed in green.

“Mrs. Hamazaki’s room.” Remi sighed and got up from her chair, sending you a pleading look. “I know you’re on your break, but can you cover me for a while? Just until Misa-san comes back. If a patient calls, dial downstairs… but she should be back in five minutes.”

You still had thirteen minutes left. Technically you shouldn’t, but you decided to shrug and walk to the other side of the counter anyway. “Sure.”

Remi patted your shoulder as you settled on her chair and put the stethoscope around her neck, disappearing down the quiet hallway towards Room 32.

Quiet. Real quiet, here.

You sighed, suddenly feeling an invisible weight worth tons over your shoulders. Sleep was finally starting to take space inside your head. Just the thought that you still had to take the subway – even for just a few stations –, shower, eat something and probably scold Mayu for going to Shinjuku (you knew her too well) made you feel tired.

But it’s fine. You’d have the next three days off, thanks to the two consecutive shifts you took.

You placed your phone standing over the desk, balancing it on the computer screen, and opened the front camera – just to immediately regret it. Jesus Christ, you really looked insane; your hair looked like a bird’s nest, dark circles under your eyes, your lips were chapped (you were so sure Mayu stole your lip balm)… everything about you was wrong. You immediately untied the loose bun and tied it again, trying to make your hair look at least a little more presentable. A small part of your brain tried to remember the last time you wore something nice, went to a hair salon or put makeup beyond just some soft mascara and blush… it was two months ago, maybe. Or three.

Fuck.

That’s the life you chose, right?

Nine minutes to the end of your break.

An annoying, familiar sound caught your attention. You frowned and got up to peek from over the counter.

Disgust immediately set in your stomach.

Other than the broken coffee machine or the new nurse that took ages to get a single blood sample or that old man that yelled at you because his case was sooo much worse than a car crash victim (he just had back pain) or the paramedic that gave you he wrong prognosis or the drunk patient flirting with you or that test result that arrived two hours late, that fucking thing on the floor was what made you truly feral the entire shift.

Except – you couldn’t sneak into the inpatients unit to complain about it with Remi, because apparently, no one else could see it.

It’s not as if you weren’t used to it. In fact, you were so used to it that you could fully ignore it, because that’s what adults do. Oh, you’re seeing a creature that looks straight out of Silent Hill? No, you’re fucking not. No one else is seeing it, so I’m not seeing it either.

It was also very unprofessional to be showing clear signs of schizophrenia and not being brave enough to confess it to a psychiatrist, sure. But it wasn’t a today thing. It was an always thing, because you’d always seen these things, and it was already so familiar that it didn’t shock you anymore. Maybe you could’ve done something about it when you were a kid, but now? At your big age? As you were so close to completing your residency? Fuck no.

This one wasn’t even as gruesome as the others you’d seen. But hell, how annoying it was.

“Chuuuuu…” the creepy little thing moaned. It looked like a rat – an obese, hairless, in advanced state of decomposition rat; its legs were too short and thin for the rest of the body, hence why it moved around slowly, dragging itself on the cool floor. And shit, it smelled so bad; its stench immediately overwhelmed the usual smell of antiseptic of the hall.

That fucking thing.

It kept chuuuu-ing in your ear the entire shift. It wandered around the ER room, and you crossed its slow path many times, trying to not look too insane as you avoided stepping on it. Even when you were far from it, you’d still hear the chuuuuuu and it was making you go nuts.

Again. Maybe it was the date or your maniacal mental state that made you so bothered with it. You’d see these things almost weekly at the hospital; they were all irritating, but they were also small and easy to ignore. You’d encountered far worse before. Yet, you just couldn’t stand it this time.

“Chuuuuuuu…” it repeated again. You grimaced.

“Shut the fuck up,” you finally hissed in something between a whisper and a yell, because you’d been holding back this entire time and now there was no one to witness you cussing at nothing.

Seven minutes to the end of your break.

The fucking thing looked at you.

It moved its hairless head slowly in your direction. Its eyes were white and empty. It… it lifted its head to look at you.

You froze in place.

You were looking at it, and it was looking back. It was looking. It was seeing.

That was new.

The thing screeched.

Like a rodent in a trap, but angrier. It… it looked angry, now. Its fat face retorted, exposing a set of sharp teeth, drool dripping from its mouth.

That was also new.

It changed directions. Before, it was crawling down the hallway; now, it crawled towards the counter – much faster than it was before. Towards you.

That was also very new.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, looking to your sides; the hallway was still empty. Your hallucinations were trying to attack you now? Shit, what if Remi was right and you were actually high? What if someone spiked your energy drink? Where the hell was that Misa-san she talked about? There’s no way– no way you’d deal with that alone.

The rat thing crawled closer. Closer. You got up from the chair.

“Shoo,” you tried, feeling a mix of urgency and disgust and sheer embarrassment because hey, were you trying to shoo a mutant rat that apparently only existed in your head?! You looked to your sides again, over the counter, waiting for anyone to appear – but the hallway was still dead empty.

It crossed the counter, screeching angrily. You stepped back and almost hit your back on a cabinet behind you. “Go away!” You whispered again. It only caused it to screech louder.

The thing opened and closed its jaws, biting the air around your feet. It was trying to bite you.

“No!” You tiptoed, trying to avoid it. The thing screeched so loud that it hurt your eardrums. It aimed at your ankles; its teeth were dead sharp, and it was drooling, and it was so much more disgusting from up close, and it smelled of rotten flesh, and it was going to bite your ankles, and– and–

“No!”

You stomped on it.

The thing exploded.

Its insides splashed around your right foot like it was nothing but a balloon filled with water, but instead of water it was purple rotten slime. You stood there, paralyzed, staring at your foot, the rat’s guts splashed on the floor – when suddenly, right before your eyes, its remains started to vaporize in black dust.

And then, in less than 5 seconds, there was only purple blood.

Or you thought that was blood.

That was all very fucking new.

“Ew!” A visceral disgusted groan erupted from your throat. You looked around again frantically (No one! Where the hell was that Misa-san girl?!), not knowing if you wished someone would see this or thankful that no one witnessed you murdering a… uh… rat? Rodent?

You were feeling its warm blood drip down your ankles and inside your socks, staining your white tennis shoe and the hem of your navy blue pants. That thing was real.

“Ew! Ew!” You whispered again. You hopped on one foot towards the paper towels on the wall, taking as many as you could and wiping the blood from your shoe the best way you could. I’m gonna get rabies, the thought crossed your mind, spiking your panic. I’m gonna get mutant rabies. I need to disinfect this. Disinfectant! Shit, I killed a wild animal or whatever that thing was– but I wasn’t expecting it to fucking implode like that! How did it get inside the hospital anyway?! Should I call animal control? How am I going to explain this–

“Excuse me?”

You yelped and turned around in a jump.

There was a boy.

He stood on the other side of the counter, eyeing you with a slight frown. His hair was a gracious mess of spiked black strands; he wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His eyelashes were ridiculously long (in a jealous tone), contrasting with his pale white skin.

Oh. Ooooh.

You eyed the identification sticker glued to the right side of his chest (remembering names is not a doctor’s forte).

“Oh. Hello, Fushiguro-kun. Good morning.” You swiftly threw the dirty tissues in the trash can under the counter, away from his eyesight. “How can I help you?”

Technically you shouldn’t help him because this was not your area and that Misa-san girl should be here already, but not only were you trying to not look so awkward and not let a visitor know you had just killed a wild animal inside the hospital – you had a soft spot for him. Everyone had, to be honest.

“Good morning, Mori-san.” You noticed how he didn’t look at your ID badge, he just remembered your name. Such a good kid. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just that… I thought I heard something.”

Great.

“Really? Heard what?”

Fushiguro tightened his eyes again. Why did he look so suspicious?

“Something strange.”

Greeeat. The boy heard me stomp on a wild animal. Fantastic.

“Must’ve been outside, I guess. It’s really silent here.” Years of calming hysterical patients made you perfect the ability of offering a calm, unsuspecting smile. “Can I help you with anything else?”

Which was something stupid to ask twice, because there was nothing you could help him with… and you had tried before.

You first met Fushiguro back in April.

It was your shift when his older sister, Fushiguro Tsumiki, was admitted to the hospital.

She came unconscious in an ambulance with a shivering, panicked friend of hers, both wearing school uniforms. You didn’t remember the specifics, but they were out of school doing something they clearly shouldn’t when Tsumiki blacked out, in her friend’s words. Your first assumption was alcoholic coma, obviously, even though her friend denied it vehemently (what teenager wants to get caught drinking in school hours?). She also stated that Tsumiki hadn’t hit her head anywhere, which was true: there were no signs of concussion or any other injury anywhere in her body. No convulsion, drooling or bleeding. Her vital signs were perfectly fine. And yet, Tsumiki wouldn’t wake up.

Around an hour after she was admitted, Fushiguro arrived. You remember asking where their parents were, but he was so frenetic that you decided to explain the situation to him before they could come. You told Fushiguro about her health status. You explained that she was going through a tomography at that moment and she still had more exams to take, but despite the unconsciousness, she was stable.

Your shift ended. You went home. The sight of that lonely, scared teenager stuck with you – maybe because he reminded you of Mayu.

The next day, you discovered that Tsumiki had been transferred from the ER to the ICU. She was none of your business anymore. And yet, during your break, you decided to check her test results out of curiosity.

There were no signs of alcohol or drugs in her blood.

No concussion, aneurysm, tumor or stroke. Her brain was perfectly fine.

And yet – Tsumiki would not wake up.

You were always busy with patients. It was hard to keep track of each case, and after someone was transferred out of the ER, you usually didn’t have time to check on them. But that girl intrigued you (and pretty much the entire medical staff). She was not brain dead; instead, her brain was working on a low frequency, as if she was simply asleep.

An inexplicable coma?

The entire situation kept coming back to you, not just due to the sheer absurdity of it, but also because of the boy.

Fushiguro came to visit every day during the first month. Remi always talked about him. Other nurses talked about him, too, always in a heartbroken tone. You’d cross his path in the hospital sometimes, and when you did, you’d make sure to check on him.

Whenever you saw him, your heart tightened.

He did remind you too much of Mayu. It made you think of her in this state if you were hospitalized. It broke your heart even more after you learned they were orphans. The whole thing just hit too close to home.

It was one of these situations that made you wonder, if I had done something different when she arrived, would I have saved her?

These days, he visited the hospital once or twice a week, always alone – which made you genuinely worried for him, since he was orphaned. Who was taking care of that boy? You went as far as checking Tsumiki’s file again, only to note that they had a legal guardian (well, someone had to be paying for the medical expenses, right?). Remi explained that said legal guardian did visit her sometimes as well (and she didn’t forget to mention how hot he was, apparently), you just happened to never be there when he was.

Tsumiki was currently in a room down the hallway. The visiting hours started at 8 o’clock, and there he was, always punctual.

And still eyeing you with suspicion.

Boy, I like you, but you’re starting to piss me off right now.

“...No, thank you,” he finally said, stepping away slowly. “I guess it was nothing.” Fushiguro offered you a polite bow. “Excuse me. Have a good job.”

You watched him walk out of the inpatients unit through the door.

Only then did you breathe again.

Three minutes to the end of your break.

Shit. You were going to get late. Where the fuck was Misa-san?! In fact, where was everybody in this goddamn ward?! You rushed to grab the phone and dialed the infirmary extension, ready to yell at someone, taping your fingertips over the desk impatiently. You’d have to explain yourself about the mutant rodent later – and you wouldn’t bother to clean that blood, not after Misa-san pissed you off by being late. Is no one going to pick it up?!

Two minutes to the end of your break.

The soft ring of an electronic bell.

Great. Fantastic.

You eyed the panel of alarms over the desk angrily. I don’t even know who Misa-san is, but I already hate her.

But then – you froze.

The alarm light was glowing in red. Emergency.

Over each alarm, there were stickers with the names of the patients occupying the rooms.

Room 39.

Fushiguro Tsumiki.

Your stomach dropped.

You put the phone down and ran down the hallway.

Is this really happening? Is it a mistake? What if the alarm is broken–? It didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that you were going to get late and that this wasn’t your job. That was Tsumiki, and her brother had just left the room barely a minute ago. What if a miracle had just happened?! You’d still have time to run after him to tell him the news!

Room 39 was at the end of the corridor. Without a second thought, you barged in.

You were greeted by darkness.

The curtains were closed. Barely any light from outside reached the room. You tattered the wall, searching for the switch. It didn’t turn the lights on.

But you could still see the outline of her body.

Laying on the hospital bed. The covers up to her chest. Sleeping peacefully.

And for a second, you thought it really was just a mistake; the alarm went off on its own for some reason.

Until you saw someone holding the button.

It was dark; you couldn’t really see. But your body felt it. Your senses. You felt it, with something primitive and instinctive inside of you, felt it with your soul.

There was something terribly, terribly, terribly wrong happening.

And it was like the world outside of that small hospital room didn’t exist anymore. You couldn’t hear anything behind that door; only the darkness that surrounded you, and the cold – it was freezing cold – creeping up your legs and arms like frost. Your lungs failed. Adrenaline pumped in your veins. You didn’t want to turn your back to that thing, because your instincts knew that was a bad idea. And yet, you knew you had to run.

You turned the doorknob in a swift motion.

But it was already too late.

You had time to feel an icy cold hand grip around your wrist.

Then – darkness.

Megumi felt himself fill with anger as he waited for The Idiot.

He tapped his foot nervously, bit his fingernails even more nervously. He’d been trying to stop with this habit, but these days it felt nearly impossible. Not after everything that had been happening.

And certainly not after what happened an hour ago.

Which is what made him angrier. At himself.

Because he didn’t feel that presence until it was too late.

Megumi was inside the elevator, making his way to the ground floor of the hospital, when he felt that. The undeniable, chilling cursed energy – so strong that he could feel it from the other side of the building; it appeared suddenly, made the hairs in the nape of his neck rise, made his eyes widen and his heartbeat spike. Made him press the floor button angrily as if it’d make the elevator change directions out of nowhere.

Then came the explosion.

It shook the entire hospital. It cut the energy. It made him get stuck alone in the elevator for solid three minutes. It took him another three to run upstairs.

But it was already too late.

The cursed energy had disappeared, but not the immense hole on the wall that it – whatever it was – created in broad daylight.

Inside his sister’s room.

Panic filled the entire complex building. He heard people yelling, running, nurses rushing to get patients out of the ward, the distant sound of sirens. There was no fire, however – what created that hole on the wall wasn’t normal. All of that was a blur inside Megumi’s mind.

A hole. Cursed energy. Something inside Tsumiki’s room, minutes after he left.

She was unharmed. Some debris hit her cheek, but other than a small bruise, she was “fine”. That didn’t calm him.

What just happened? Why it happened? Why her?

The hospital was packed with police, firefighters and reporters now. As expected, lawyers already tried to talk to him (desperate for him not to sue them), but it was no use talking to a minor. They wanted his legal guardian.

The Idiot.

If he even felt like coming, that was.

There’s no way he’s not coming, Megumi tried to calm himself. This isn’t just because of Tsumiki. Something strange happened here. He needs to check.

Though – maybe there was a tiny part of him wishing he wouldn’t come…

Well. That was too late.

The familiar black sedan peeked around the corner.

And there he was.

The Idiot walked out of the car with his usual nonchalant posture, holding an opened chocolate Pocky pack. Megumi half expected him to immediately hit him with a joke, or scolding passed as a joke, or downplay the situation–

But The Idiot looked in the direction of the East ward and hummed.

Megumi couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew the man was frowning.

Great. So he knows I’m not overreacting.

“Scandalous, heh?” The Idiot mumbled as he stepped closer. “Too many people here. I don’t like it.”

Ijichi walked out of the car as well, looking nervous as usual. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while typing something on his phone. “Should I notify the school?”

“Yep.” The Idiot put a Pocky in his mouth.

He walked towards the reception, not waiting for anyone. Megumi saw Ijichi about to say something else – probably that The Idiot shouldn’t get involved before Jujutsu High took responsibility over the case –, but he kind of had permission to do whatever he wanted, so Ijichi stopped himself and pressed the phone on his ear with a sigh of defeat.

Megumi followed him inside the hospital shortly.

“What do you think it was?”

The Idiot shrugged. “Dunno. Gotta take a closer look.” Normal people weren’t allowed to walk in, but he simply ignored it. “Is Tsumiki okay?”

“Yes. She was taken to another room.”

He nodded while chewing. Megumi wanted to believe that The Idiot felt relieved upon hearing that, even though he had already said Tsumiki’s condition through the phone… but it was hard to tell.

“So, let me rewind it…” Megumi rushed to follow him into the elevator. “You were right here… and didn’t feel anything wrong?”

Megumi felt his ears get warm. He hated being reprimanded by The Idiot, and he hated failing, and he hated that it would give The Idiot material to tease him about it. The elevator doors closed.

“I did feel something strange… but…”

“You thought it was nothing?” The Idiot crossed his arms and pouted. “You let your critical thinking overrun your gut? C’mon, Megumi. I’m disappointed.”

“You can’t judge me. This hospital is infested with Grade 4 curses. You know it.”

“Oh, but I can judge you.” The Idiot pointed at him with a Pocky. Despite his words, his tone wasn’t harsh – it was carefree as usual, and perhaps that pissed Megumi even more. “You told me you were taking care of the weakling curses. You said everything was under control, isn’t it? Boooo.” He flicked Megumi’s forehead, which made him inflate with even more anger. The Idiot pouted like a child and stepped away from him, pressing the pack of Pockys over his chest protectively. “Don’t look at me like that. I ain’t giving you any.”

“I don’t want your stupid–”

Ding. The elevator doors opened. The Idiot walked out before Megumi could finish the sentence.

As expected, the hallway was packed with policemen and firefighters. The door leading to the inpatients unit was protected by Keep Out yellow tapes, but The Idiot simply lifted it over his head and walked in.

A guard from the hospital immediately intercepted him. “Sir, this area is forbidden…”

And maybe the fact that he was two heads shorter than The Idiot made his confidence deflate, or the off-putting blindfold, or the simple fact that The Idiot had this strange way of acting like he owned anywhere he walked into and it always made people question themselves. Megumi had seen this same reaction countless times before. The guard cleared his throat and made an effort to broaden his shoulders.

“Sir, you may not enter the area unless authorized. I must ask who you are.”

“Oh. Right.” The Idiot had the decency to shove the Pockys inside the pocket of his jacket, at least. His tone was a mix of nonchalance and passive aggressiveness as usual. “You were looking for this little guy’s legal guardian. Here I am. The legal guardian.” He patted Megumi on the shoulder rather aggressively. “His legal guardian and of the girl who almost blew up inside your hospital, you know.”

The guard went pale.

A middle-aged man wearing a suit nearby observed the conversation and rushed nearer. Megumi recognized him – one of the hospital’s lawyers. He pressed his hands together and smiled nervously.

“Eh, you must be Gojo-san, isn’t it? It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve been waiting for your arrival–”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The Idiot kept walking.

Megumi followed. The nervous lawyer followed, too.

The nearer they got to the room at the end of the corridor, the more people gathered. The Idiot towered over all of them, making his way unhurriedly while the lawyer babbled. As he stood in front of Room 39’s open doors, a policeman tried to stop him, but the lawyer hushed:

“This man can end our hospital’s reputation. Please, let him take a look.”

The policeman let him step inside. Megumi followed.

The Idiot whistled.

“What a mess.”

Megumi’s stomach dropped. The wall that faced outside was destroyed; the steel beams were retorted, the concrete cracked even on the ceiling. A hole with a diameter of at least three meters.They still had to verify if the structure of that part of the building had the risk of completely crumbling, though Megumi doubted it. Now, the view to the hospital’s back gardens and the street just ahead was totally visible.

To know that Tsumiki laid right there when whatever or whoever caused this much destruction was… to know that the debris could’ve caused her much more harm… Tsumiki, asleep, defenseless…

The man beside him hummed and held his chin. In moments like this, Megumi wished he could see through his eyes.

“Sloppy work. There’s residue all over the place.”

“So… you don’t think this is the work of a curse?”

“Nope.”

Megumi’s worst suspicions.

Curse users.

Whoever was behind this was intelligent. Had intent. So maybe… maybe Tsumiki’s condition had intent behind it, too…

“I just don’t get why Tsumiki was unharmed.” The Idiot said. “Why draw this much attention if you’re going to leave her behind?”

Megumi had been asking himself this the entire time. It didn’t make any sense.

He sighed and crossed his arms. “Well. I guess keeping her here isn’t safe anymore. Though I don’t think Shoko will be okay with moving her to the school…”

Megumi knew that. Jujutsu High didn’t have the necessary staff or equipment to accommodate a patient in coma; that’s why Tsumiki was in this hospital in the first place. They already knew that her problem couldn’t be solved by normal doctors. She just needed a place to be properly taken care of until they found a solution.

“C’mon. Where is Tsumiki now? Gonna take a look at her.” The Idiot turned around. Megumi frowned and followed.

“What about the cursed energy residue?”

“Just the usual. We gotta track it.” The Idiot shrugged and walked down the hallway back to where they came from. The middle-aged lawyer approached again, babbling about how he was so eager to sit down with him and settle the situation extrajudicially (Megumi wanted to punch him on the face. His sister could’ve died and all he cared about was not getting sued?!). Said lawyer got pale when The Idiot absently handed him a simple black business card and told him to talk to his lawyers (plural), as he had no time in his schedule.

They waited for the elevator. The Idiot started chewing his Pockys again, humming a tune and tapping his foot to the rhythm.

Megumi hated that.

How he couldn’t even pretend to be worried for Tsumiki.

That was when another voice caught his attention.

“You’re not listening to me, sir.”

“I am listening, ma’am.”

“Then why are none of you taking action?! I spent the last hour explaining the same thing!”

“And I have already explained how the protocol works–”

“I am telling you that my friend was taken!”

Ding. The elevator doors opened.

Megumi walked to the other end of the corridor instead. The Idiot tilted his head to the side, calling his name, but he ignored it.

That was Yoshida Remi. The blonde nurse responsible over this floor’s inpatients unit. Megumi already knew her well at this point. He noticed how her forehead had a small bruise, and there were band-aids over her forearms; she was hurt by the explosion? Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, and her expression a mix of concern and frustration. An unwilling policeman stood in front of her, looking like he just wanted to get rid of the situation.

“In fact, Yoshida-san, you have failed to explain exactly what happened.”

She gripped her own hair and groaned. “I… I already told you! She was taken!”

“By who?”

“I…”

The policeman sighed and made an appeasing gesture with his palms turned to her. “I understand you must be in shock, ma’am, after witnessing an explosion. I believe it’s best for you to calm down first and organize your thoughts.”

“My thoughts are organized! My colleague works here and she’s nowhere to be found!”

“Have you tried calling her?”

“I already said– I told you that I got her phone!” The nurse almost scrubbed a phone on the policeman’s face, shaking it angrily in his direction. “How could I call her?!”

“Excuse me, officer.”

Megumi turned his head to see The Idiot approaching as well.

He touched the policeman’s shoulder and opened a small smile. “I’ll take it from here.”

Anyone normal would question the guy with the blindfold, but the officer was visibly so tired of that situation that he decided to simply nod and escape.

The nurse was taken aback. “Fushiguro-kun? You’re still here?” He saw a load of guilt cross her face. “I am so sorry for what happened to your sister. You have checked on her already, right? Fortunately, she was unscathed…”

“Yes. Yes, I saw her.” Megumi nodded.

The Idiot stepped closer. “What were you talking about? Your colleague was taken?”

Yoshida Remi’s eyes traveled to The Idiot – and at the same rate she was visibly confused by the blindfold, she also blushed. Megumi tried not to roll his eyes. “Gojo-san? I-I didn’t know you were an officer.”

“Yeah.” The Idiot smiled, not bothering to deny it. “So? Can you explain to me exactly what you saw?”

She dropped her eyes and frowned; the nurse was so, so, so visibly confused. “I-I… I’m not really sure of what I saw. But I saw. I heard a noise coming from Fushiguro-san’s room, so I went there to check it, and…” She scratched her head nervously. “I saw someone, or something, grab my friend and take her away. Then the explosion came and I’m even less sure of what happened, but…” She looked up again with frantic, widened eyes. “But she disappeared! I looked for her everywhere! Look, her phone was left behind, and I found her badge on the floor, too…”

Megumi’s eyes widened.

“It was Mori-san?”

She nodded. “Yes! You remember her, don’t you?!”

Of course Megumi remembered her. He saw her just minutes before the explosion happened… and she looked suspicious…

Surprisingly, The Idiot took the ID badge from the nurse’s hand and looked down at it.

His smile had vanished.

So had his nonchalant posture.

“Megumi.” The black haired boy frowned at his tone – lower? More serious? “Let’s go.”

He also took the phone from the nurse’s hand and turned around without explaining anything.

“What? Are you making a police report?”

The Idiot threw her a thumbs up without looking back. “Yep! No worries!”

Megumi bowed at the confused blonde nurse politely before running after him. “Where are we going?!”

“We’re going to solve a kidnapping, silly. Ain’t it obvious?” He flicked Megumi’s temple again to his utmost anger. Luckily, the elevator’s doors were already opened, so both rushed in. The black sedan and Ijichi were waiting in the same spot.

“Good news, though.” The Idiot said while chewing more Pocky. “I don’t think this had anything to do with Tsumiki at all.”

“What…?”

The Idiot, as usual, did not elaborate.

Surprisingly, he sat on the passenger’s seat instead of the backseats, which for some reason made Ijichi sweat. While Megumi adjusted his seatbelt, Ijichi asked nervously:

“Where to next, Gojo-san?”

The Idiot hummed.

With his thumb, he pushed the black blindfold up to his forehead, exposing his right eye. His cyan iris seemed to glow faintly.

“...Hmm… Sanya, I guess.” He put the blindfold back in place and excitedly reached for the radio, immediately turning it up to an obnoxious volume. “I’m not picking any of your boring songs, Ijichi!”

The driver shivered.

One day, Megumi would land a much deserving punch on his face.

It was freezing.

All of your senses were slow as consciousness awakened again. No hearing, no seeing, no smelling or tasting. But you could feel that it was cold.

The second thing you could feel was your teeth chattering.

The third, a discomfort on the entire left side of your body: you were laying on a hard floor. Your neck hurt from the way your head hung.

The fourth was the fact that you couldn’t move.

You could feel your limbs, but there was no strength to them, as if the cable that connected your brain to your limbs was ripped off. Your body was useless.

That’s when panic started to settle in.

What the fuck was going on?!

Finally, you could see again.

The place was dimly lit by… candles? That was it, probably, judging by the way shadows flickered on the walls. Each breath of yours produced small clouds of steam. It was a relatively large room; the concrete floor under your body was wet. The place smelled like a butcher shop. Were you inside a meat locker? That should be it, judging by how stupidly cold it was. With your peripheral vision, you could see that there was a plastic curtain somewhere in the corner.

Your teeth chattered, but that was an involuntary motion. You could move your eyeballs and that was it. The rest of your body – numb.

A million thoughts per minute rushed in your head. A spinal fracture? Had you completely lost movement?

You were laying in fetal position: leg to leg, arm to arm. You tried your best to look down…

You were… mummified?

That was the only description. There was… paper wrapped around your body. Yellowed paper, old looking, with inscriptions that you couldn’t really recognize. From what you could see, only your head was free from it.

Panic really really really settled in.

Oh my fucking God. What is happening?! Where am I?! What happened– wait, try to remember. Try to remember. I was working. I was in the hospital. I stepped on a weird looking rat. My break was close to ending. I rushed to a room because the alarm was on and– and– what happened after that?! What–?

You heard steps.

It made your heartbeat spike up.

Shit. Shit. Oh my God. Oh my God. I was kidnapped.

It was more than one pair of feet – two or three people? You couldn’t be sure, as you couldn’t fucking move your head to see it, but the noise clearly came from over that plastic curtain. Low male voices. It made violent shivers run your entire body.

Fear. Fear. Fear. You were frightened. A type of fear you’d never experienced before. It was visceral, colder than the temperature, scarier than any weird creature you’d seen before. You were in an actually dangerous situation and you couldn’t even form a coherent thought.

I’m being trafficked I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m–

The second little person living inside your head slaps the first little person on the face. Shut up!! Focus! Try to think of a way out!!

A window–?! You couldn’t turn your head to see if there was one. If this really was a meat locker, there shouldn’t be any. A familiar sound?! Cars outside–?! Nothing. The only things you could hear were the low voices of the unknown men nearby and a constant quiet buzz. A board?! A flyer?! Anything that might tell you where you are–?! Nothing to see on your field of view.

The first little person living inside your head starts freaking out again. I don’t know where I am I don’t know how long I’ve been knocked out I might be paraplegic I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die—

You’re not being useful!, the second little person yells, making the first little person recoil and shiver. You’ve watched these true crime documentaries! The probability of living if you don’t take action now are less than 10%! Do something now that we have a chance!

Right right right. They still hadn’t noticed that you were awake; you could only hope there was no one watching you from behind where you couldn’t see. You’d have to take advantage of this before anyone crossed the curtains.

You could feel your limbs and the pain and the discomfort, so a spinal fracture was less likely. Maybe they had anesthetized you and the effects were beginning to dissipate? What sort of anesthetic was that, by the way, to render anyone in this state? Gosh— if it really was general anesthesia, you were lucky to be alive to begin with.

Try to move. It felt silly to try to mechanically do something a body does on the automatic. You focused your senses on your left feet; the strange blood of the mutant rat had dried in your sock, becoming some sort of crust you could feel very well. You could feel that the shoelace was less tight than on the right foot. Try to move. Try to move. A spasm. A wiggle. Anything. Anything.

But nothing moved.

No matter how hard you tried.

Your breath became irregular and difficult as real, real, real panic spread through your system.

I am going to die.

Both little people inside your head were screaming now.

I can’t move. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who these people are. I don’t know what they’re gonna do. I don’t have a way out. I don’t have an escape plan. I can’t contact anyone. I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die I am going to—

Mayu.

The two little people shut up abruptly.

Mayu.

Fourteen year old Mayu, waiting for you to come home. Acting nonchalant at first but then getting really worried when you don’t pick up or text back. Mayu, going back to Aunt Junko’s house, not knowing what to do. Mayu, Mayu-chan, Mayuka, lonely and frightened the way you saw Fushiguro Megumi the evening that his older sister was brought in.

Mayu.

You couldn’t allow anyone to kill you.

You couldn’t just leave her behind.

Another feeling grew inside of you, spread like fire on hay; made the two little people run and hide. Overwhelmed the fear quickly.

Anger.

Who the fuck these men thought they were to kidnap you?! What right did they have?!

Anger mixed with frustration pumped even more adrenaline through your bloodstream; tears welled up your eyes, tightened your throat. I can’t be dragged around like a garbage bag! I can’t allow it! I have to do something!

USELESS BODY!! DO!! SOMETHING!!

It started like a point of heat — right in your heart.

You didn’t know what that was. For a brief second, you thought it was cardiac arrest — that’s probably what it’d feel like. It was hot, piping hot, made your blood boil, your vision blur in white; it spread through your skin, from your toes to your scalp. It was heat, it was energy, it was anger—

It was fire.

It was black. The flames — they were black; they enveloped your body, and it took a second to understand that this was not your imagination; you were in flames. You’d have screamed if you could. It took you another second, however, to realize that these flames weren’t burning you… not exactly.

They set the papers that wrapped your body on fire.

You watched in utter disbelief as the inscriptions on the papers seemed to glow for a moment before burning down to ashes.

All of that happened in less than ten seconds.

The black fire extinguished as if it’d never been there in the first place.

The strange yellowed paper that once enveloped your body — gone.

And all of sudden — you could move.

The cable was reconnected.

You got up in a jump; your limbs ached and you felt dizzy, but somehow managed to keep your balance. Your heart pounded in your chest, you gasped for air as if you’d been underwater, your fingers were shaking, you felt a terrible headache— and on top of that, you were tired as if you’d ran a marathon.

None of that mattered. You could move. You could run.

You didn’t even have time to look around, however — because the curtains were opened.

There were three men.

They were all relatively tall. The one in the middle had long black hair, an ugly goatee and tattoos on his forearms. Their clothes were pretty unimpressive. They… didn’t look threatening, not exactly — the one in the middle looked like someone you’d have beaten up in middle school — but there was something in your gut yelling at you to be careful, that they represented danger you could not deal with. Not just because of the obvious fact that they were your kidnappers. Not even because the guy on the left had a fucking katana strapped to his hip.

It was that chilly, strange feeling that usually meant there was a creature nearby.

You’d never felt this for a person before.

The goatee guy hummed and measured you up and down.

“She broke the seals. You shoulda made sure these seals would work, huh, Hideki?” His voice was raspy. Was he talking like a stereotypical Yakuza member on purpose? Did he think he sounded cool doing that?

“Ain’t my fault. The seals were pretty tight.” The guy on the left replied. Why was he also talking like that?! He opened a smirk, exposing a set of the yellowest teeth you’d ever seen. “This only means she really is the one, right?”

“Uh-huh.” The goatee guy smirked too and caressed said goatee. “Just like they told us, aye?”

“This one’s gonna make us a ton of money.” The one on the right said with a stupidly high pitched voice.

“Who are you? Where am I?” You felt stupid — why would they answer? Why even ask in the first place? In fact — seals?! What were they talking about?!

“Knock her out again. And make better seals this time.” Goatee guy ignored you completely. The guy on the left stepped closer, which spiked your panic once again.

You could move now, but what difference did that make against three people? You were weak, standing pathetically, shaking from head to toe.

“No! No!” You yelled when he gripped your wrist and pulled you without any effort.

“No one’s gonna hear you. It’s useless.”

“Fuck you!”

You punched his face.

It was a sloppy, weak punch with your non-dominant hand — not enough to make him release you, but enough to make him angry.

He gripped your hair with his free hand and pulled aggressively; it felt like he was going to rip the strands off the scalp, making you scream again — in pain this time.

“Fucking bitch—“

And then you were on the ground.

And he was on the ground, too. And goatee guy. And the baby voice guy.

And everyone was on the ground, because the roof had exploded.

You didn’t have time to look up or scream or even properly register what the fuck had happened before you were shocked against the wet floor. It sounded like a bomb had dropped over your head, and concrete and steel cracked like paper, and the sound was deafening and disorienting and it felt like oxygen was sucked off your lungs, and just like that — in seconds — half of the roof and the wall were gone, and it was all white because— because— the sun is still up! The sun was up and your eyes weren’t used to the brightness, and there was dust in your mouth which made you cough, and your head hurt and you didn’t know what was happening— what—

What—

There was a guy.

And he was floating.

Your brain was overloaded with information. You had stepped on a mutant rat. You had been kidnapped. You spontaneously combusted in black flames. The place where you were exploded. And now—

There was a guy floating meters above you, from the immense hole caused by the explosion. Like, an actual person. Floating.

Your ears were buzzing, your eyes were still adjusting to the sudden sunlight; for some moments, all you could see was a silhouette. And for a second, one of the little people in your head breathed out in awe and disbelief: Jesus?

It wasn’t Jesus.

Jesus didn’t have white hair, as far as you knew.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, confused and disoriented, the extremely high pitched buzz still ringing in your ears; it felt that your head was underwater. Sounds were muffled. You didn’t really see the moment he — Albino Jesus? — got down, but all of sudden he was hovering over you — his torso leaning down to look at you closely, his feet on each side of you.

“Looking” was a bit of a stretch.

He was… blindfolded?

And grinning.

“Happy to see me?” His deep, lighthearted (?), excited voice reached your ears through the buzz. You couldn’t help but note how his teeth were so perfectly white, the complete opposite of katana guy.

“What—?” You managed to mumble somehow, still feeling the horrid taste of dust in your tongue.

“Nah, no need to get emotional. We ain’t got time for this.”

He offered his open hand in your direction, and for a moment you thought he was helping you to your feet… but you heard a strange zzuup, an inescapable attraction, and then suddenly you were off the ground without doing any effort – towards his palm. Your back was glued to it as if he was a magnet and you, a coin. You saw yourself weightless, floating beside his body.

You felt like a potato sack if potato sacks didn’t have weight.

No. A potato sack is too nice. He was carrying you like a dog.

Your stomach twirled.

You wanted to take a better look at his face (what was visible of it), but the three guys were up to their feet again and you went cold. What was worse: the three kidnappers, or floating Jesus?

However, their reactions took you completely off guard.

They took protective stances. Their expressions weren’t mocking or relaxed anymore… they were… scared?

Frightened, in fact.

“Oooh?” Floating Jesus hummed in that same excited tone again. His voice seemed to be naturally loud. “You want this nurse so bad that you’re willing to fight me for her?”

What?! I’m not a—

“This is fucked up, man,” baby voice guy stuttered. “It wasn’t on the contract that we’d have to face Gojo Satoru.”

Floating Jesus pointed his finger at baby voice guy.

“So you’re not willing to fight. At least someone’s honest!”

Your brain didn’t properly register what happened next, partly because it couldn’t believe it.

Space around baby voice guy’s body twisted; it was like looking at someone’s warped reflex on rippled water. But that wasn’t simply a warped reflex or an illusion. He yelled in pain, a yell that came from his guts — and you watched in real time as his arms and legs warped with the twisted space around him, heard the nauseating noise of his bones crushing in different angles, saw the blood splashing from his wounds and his body falling flat on the floor.

Your jaw dropped.

There was no time to let that image sink in. The other two guys ran in different directions – trying to flee.

Floating Jesus giggled.

Your stomach dropped with your jaw when he moved, dragging your weightless body along; fast fast fast, he moved too fast for your eyes to follow, making everything look like an incomprehensible blur. In the blink of an eye, he was floating again above countless roofs; it looked like a residential neighborhood — and you looked down, and you were too high, way too high, and he wasn’t even really holding you, your back was just glued to his palm and what if he dropped you— what if—

You screamed.

“Don’t shout in my ear, woman.” He whined.

“We’re gonna fall! We’re gonna—”

He had moved again.

You were closer to the street this time and at that point you wondered if your brain was lagging, because how the hell could you be in a spot in a second and in another spot a second later?! You found what he was looking for — katana guy, running down the street at a speed that didn’t even look human. And yet, it was still not match for Floating Jesus.

He stopped in front of katana guy.

“Boo.”

That thing happened again – warped space, warped limbs, screams and broken bones and blood. You wanted to vomit. And he did it again, and suddenly you were in another street, and there was a car? A black car? And a nervous looking guy in a suit standing near the car, and you didn’t know what the fuck was happening, and—

“Megumiii, the last one’s yours!” He said in a sing-song voice. “Don’t let him escape!”

And maybe you heard a familiar male voice saying “understood” before the sound of fast steps echoing down the street.

And then finally, your feet touched the ground again.

Your body had weight. It was heavy, it was tired. Your head hurt, your stomach was still doing twirls, you were dizzy and confused and something inside your brain felt about to explode—

“Case solved! We got the nurse back!” He said in an obnoxiously happy tone— and maybe if you hadn’t noticed with the corner of your eye that he was about to touch your arm, you wouldn’t have done it.

But you did it anyway.

You slapped him.

It was instinctive. Your palm found its way to his cheek with speed and strength that could only be fueled by panic. The slap echoed on the street, turned his head to the side abruptly, made his cheek burn in bright red.

The suit guy gasped audibly.

Even Floating Jesus seemed shocked. Not that you could tell for sure because of the blindfold, but his jaw was dropped.

Yeah, your brain was definitely lagging. You could’ve said a hundred things. A hundred questions. You could’ve tried to run away. You could’ve tried screaming for help.

And yet, the only thing you said – pointing at him angrily as if he had called your mom a bitch — was:

“I am not a nurse!”

That was around a second before your brain completely shut off.

You had time to see the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

And then—

Darkness.

A/N: AND OUR STORY BEGINS!!! GOSH!! So much stuff happens this chapter. But I wanted to start this story with adrenaline!! Next chapter we'll have time to sit down and talk (hopefully) ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ If you read it this far, please don't forget to leave a comment or interact somehow! Feedback always motivates me to keep writing. Let me know if you guys are excited about the story too! 💞 Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! See you <3

[zorostitties]

Intertwined; 5

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child’s heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, underage smoking, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 11k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! I can't believe it's been so long since the last update 😭 life has been beating my ass these days and I was stuck in a writers block. But I'm really satisfied with the way this chapter turned out in the end!! A little something I haven't mentioned about the fic yet (again): we're going all the way to Wano with this story :D Thank you so much for your patience!! Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

Scarpia Virgus already knew what his granddaughter was going to do before she did it.

He could feel it. Her intent. Her hatred, which burned inside of her slowly like a calm but constant fireplace. The weeks of travel towards the family’s headquarters were mostly silent. Yet, even if she didn’t speak, he could feel the heat of her anger burning from the other side of the ship.

When they finally arrived at Scarpia Island, Virgus already knew what she would do.

He didn’t stop her.

And now, the west side of the mansion was partially destroyed.

He stood on the border of the crater his grandchildren caused during the fight and watched.

Crowley bled. He got up from the floor holding his scythe with both hands, ready for one more attack. His eyes shone as red as the blood that dripped from his wounds. Part of his shirt was completely destroyed, reduced to gashes.

From the other side, his granddaughter reappeared from within the cloud of smoke and debris. She also bled in many places. The girl twirled the spiked ball of her chain, her gaze unwavering, completely locked on her older brother.

They attacked at the same time.

The shockwave produced by their clash played with Virgus’ long beard.

The old man analyzed their fight with attention. They were both excellent, as was expected of Scarpia assassins. The untrained eye would not be able to follow their fast movements. Both of them had dominated the art of maneuvering their respective weapons. She was not as physically strong as Crowley, but he was not as fast as her. Both had their advantages and disadvantages.

On their current level, they were evenly matched.

That wasn’t enough, of course. They still had a long way to go. Virgus knew he could interrupt the fight at any moment – and he would soon. He wouldn’t let his grandchildren kill each other. But not yet. He let them exchange more blows. He let them feed their hatred.

She deserved to let all the anger she had been churning for weeks out. Crowley played dirty, after all. But at the same time, she deserved to be punished. Every wound Crowley inflicted on her wasn’t nearly enough to what she should actually suffer.

They fought with passion. Delightful, Virgus thought. Truly excellent. How incredible was to watch a fight so emotionally charged. How satisfying it was to know every attack had the intent to kill. No holding back. No mercy. As it should be.

The future of the family laid on their hands, after all. Virgus already knew that the other children had no chance to reach their level by then, nor the potential. Not everyone is born to be a conqueror.

But these two were.

Virgus just needed to pull their potential out. And there was no better way to harvest potential than by cultivating rivalry.

Finally, the old man decided they had enough.

He got in between them so fast that it almost looked like teleportation.

Virgus didn’t need to unsheathe his sword. He simply caught each of them by their forearms and threw them away in different directions.

Both of them hit opposite borders of the crater. The floor shook. Another cloud of smoke and debris.

It was over.

“Siblings should not kill each other,” Virgus said calmly. And yes, he was right; it was one of the fundamental rules of the family. But there was nothing wrong with trying.

Crowley got up first. He approached his grandfather at fast steps. His arm was turned in a weird direction, but he ignored it. There was a deep cut above his left eyebrow, covering that side of his face in blood.

“Grandfather, she broke several rules–“

“I know what she did.” Virgus cut him off. “I will take care of her punishment.”

“Father should be informed–“

“He will not.”

Crowley was taken aback before anger covered his face again.

“But this isn’t fair–“

Virgus looked down at him for the first time.

It was enough to make the young man swallow his next words.

“Are you trying to tell me what to do, child?”

“No, sir.” Crowley immediately looked down.

His granddaughter approached him as well.

Her steps were firm and fast. Blood dripped from her nose down her lips and chin. Her eyes, locked on Crowley the entire time. Virgus could feel it again, the hatred burning under her skin. At that moment, she wasn’t even intimidated by his presence. Excellent. Excellent. A conqueror’s soul does not bow.

She pointed her finger at Crowley.

“If you ever think of going to Goa Island,” her voice was ferocious. Like the roar of a tiger. It came from the depths of her soul, Virgus knew. “If you even think of getting anywhere near the Sambas Region, I will kill you. This is a promise, Crowley; I don’t care what happens to me later. But you will die first.”

Anyone would’ve trembled at the ferocity of that threat. That wasn’t his fourteen year old granddaughter speaking; that was the White Wolf, as she was already getting known in the underworld. A skilled assassin. Someone that had never failed.

But Crowley opened a mocking smirk.

Excellent.

A conqueror’s soul does not bow.

“You’re upset because I got an advantage over you. I found out about your weakness, and you don’t know mine… because I don’t have any.”

She stared at him in silence for some seconds.

Then – she smirked as well.

Poisonous. Dangerous. Threatening. Excellent. Most excellent.

Her next sentence took even Virgus by surprise.

“You didn’t find out about my weakness. You found out about my strength.”

She turned around and left.

Crowley left as well.

Soon, the crater was surrounded by servants that stood aside during the fight, analyzing the levels of damage. And along with them came the lady of the house.

Scilla looked around the destruction with quiet shock.

“What happened here?” She was calm and cold as usual despite the situation at hand.

Virgus closed his eyes for a moment and chuckled.

A dragon is bound to give birth to beasts. It had been decades since a new generation of Scapias were all predators.

The crow and the wolf would battle for the dragon’s territory.

And to think these two want her to waste her future with marriage, Virgus thought. Fools.

The future of the family was going to be interesting.

Virgus put his hands behind his back. “The kids fought. Siblings fight all the time. Nothing to worry about.”

He walked away.

Virgus broke her.

Over and over again. Repeatedly. Tirelessly. He broke her.

She was skilled. Landon taught her well. He built the foundations of her strength. But that wasn’t nearly enough. Anyone could hide their presence, kill an unsuspecting target. That’s not what he wanted of her. No.

He saw it, under the dirt and the mud; the underlying shine of the gem she was, waiting to be honed. A diamond right under their noses. She was born in the right time, in the right family, to hone that talent. How fortunate she was to be born a Scarpia.

But she needed to be lapidated. The gem needs to be cut, trimmed, polished, until it becomes an acceptable final product.

So Virgus broke her.

He broke her because he knew she could be fixed later. And when she was fixed, he broke her again. When she thought she had achieved something significant, he’d show her that no, that was not enough. She was not enough, not yet. So he broke her. Again, and again, and again.

Broke her body, because in order to get stronger, it needed to be broken first. Broke her spirit, because in order to get stronger, she needed to be away from any distractions, including – and most importantly – that boy. Broke her pride, because Virgus showed over and over again how insignificant and weak she was compared to him. How she didn’t stand a chance if he actually wanted to kill her. Because in order to get stronger, she needed to understand that.

The sea is full of monsters. But conquerors – these are just a few. If she wanted to sit at the same small, secluded table of a conqueror, she needed to be broken first.

Virgus broke her despite her betrothal, the condition that her body should be healthy for the marriage in the approaching years. No, he didn’t care – because she could always be fixed later. He inflicted pain, excruciating pain, and inflicted damage, but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

Virgus broke her, until her targets became higher, higher, more difficult. Virgus broke her, until The White Wolf name made ripples through the sea, until that name – that title – began to inflict fear and respect. Virgus broke her, until her parents could no longer ignore the fact that she was being exclusively commissioned, forcing her to complete them, forcing her out of the shadows of this engagement.

He broke her, and she did not complain once. Not a tear, not a whine, not a cry. She wasn’t grateful, either, but Virgus didn’t care. When he looked deep into her eyes, he saw apathy. He saw resolve.

He saw hatred.

Delightful, Virgus thought. Truly excellent.

- PART 2 -

“I did not have this face I now wear…

I did not have these weakened hands…

I did not have this heart that barely shows itself…

I never noticed this change.”

- Cecilia Meireles

➛ 15

The bar was disgusting.

An old structure made of wood and clay. The planks under your feet creaked as you stumbled in. You could feel the sole of your boots sticking with how dirty the floor was – layers and layers of spilled alcohol, sand, sea water, and probably vomit, too. The place smelled of vomit. And human sweat. And cheap rum. Round tables filled with lowly pirates, bandits, or beggars that managed to find a coin or two in exchange of some booze. It was loud. You never understood why men liked to talk so loud. Scandalous laughter, random shouts, heated arguments.

It was good, you thought. Noise, even if they worsened your headache. Something to forcefully stimulate your brain.

If you laid down in a silent place and let yourself rest, you knew you were going to die.

You stumbled to the restrooms at the back of the bar. Shoulders curved, your figure hidden under the black cloak, anyone would think you were just another drunk beggar; no one bat an eye at you. Thankfully. Two restrooms, for males and females, though you doubted anyone cared or respected the badly drawn plates. Each of them had space for a single person at once. You stumbled into one of them and locked the door.

The noise out there was muffled. Still very loud and irritating, but muffled – which allowed you to hear your own panting.

You stayed there, your back leaning against the door, for what seemed like an eternity.

Fuck.

It hurt. A fucking lot. It hurt, and it was hard to ignore it, even with the help of Heavenly Control. No; it was impossible to ignore it.

You didn’t even want to look at it. The thought made you want to vomit. But you had already vomited – there was nothing inside your stomach to put out anymore.

You gulped, and even this simple motion was difficult. If the floor wasn’t disgustingly wet with water and piss and probably worse things, you would’ve sat there. No. I still have some strength to my legs.

You searched for the light switch on your left. The sudden light hurt your eyes. Fuck, you didn’t want to look at it. You really didn’t.

But if you didn’t, if you let that as it was, you were certainly going to die.

So, slowly, you looked down to your stomach.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The sight of your own blood was nothing new. Blood, in general, but specifically your blood. The wet, warm sensation of it dripping down your own skin. The smell of iron. It was so strong, even inside this filthy restroom.

The improvised bandages did little to not help in stanching the bleeding. You had ripped both sleeves of your white shirt and wrapped it around your torso – it was unsanitary and inappropriate, but you had nothing better at the moment. The previously white fabric was completely red now. The blood dripped down your stomach. If your pants weren’t black, you knew the left side of them would be red, too, the stain almost reaching your knee.

You needed to clean that. The wound.

Fuck.

It hurt to breathe.

You untied the knot. The drenched pieces of fabric fell on the floor with a gross splash. You lifted the tight black undershirt up to your chest, exposing your stomach and bra.

There.

A little under your left breast.

The gash.

At least twenty centimeters across your torso. Four or five centimeters wide, probably. It wasn’t a clean cut. The skin around it was ragged. That fucker used chainsaws as weapons. You were glad he didn’t make anything worse than that, actually; if your mind was a little less attentive, if your senses weren’t sharpened, if you were half a second slower, he would’ve sawed you in half.

Fucker. Fucker. You wished you could resurrect him, just so you could kill him again.

Usually, you didn’t feel anything for your targets. Apathy was a good ally during a fight. But you couldn’t not feel it for that man, not after he got so close to killing you. Closer than anyone ever got.

The gash in your torso wasn’t the only wound he inflicted, but it was the most serious. It still bled. You heard the gross sound your destroyed skin made every time you breathed; the sticky noise of blood, of ripped flesh. And there was something else, too, something you’d been trying hard to ignore – that little white peeking from the red flesh, right under your left breast, a rib–

You needed water. Clean water. That’s why you entered the bar in the first place.

It takes some seconds of courage, of gathering strength on your legs, to push yourself from the door and stand in front of the sink. A broken, dirty mirror sat above it, but you avoided looking at your miserable face at that moment. You opened the faucet. Your hand was bloody, so everywhere you touched got bloody, too. Running water. Clean water.

There’s the running water, there’s your difficult breath, there’s the loud voices out there. Loud, because men don’t know how to speak quietly, especially when they’re among themselves. Masculine environments are always so loud, so aggressive. You put your fingertips under the faucet. The water was cold.

“There are only seven of ‘em now.” A loud, deep, annoying male voice said out there, from the group sitting closer to the restrooms.

There was a small leather bag hanging from your hip. You usually didn’t carry a lot of stuff with you. The roll of gauze was almost finished. You had already used so much to bandage the other wounds around your body. You took a peace of it and put it under the faucet.

“Who woulda thought, huh? That the great Stork would have an end like that.” Another male voice. “Ships n’ ships sailing to his territory right now. Everyone want a piece of it.”

You took a deep breath. One, two, and then stopped breathing when the cold gauze touched your ripped skin. The piece was immediately drenched in red. You cleaned it the best way you could before taking another piece and repeating the process.

A mocking cackle. “As if any of them have a chance. So close to Dressrosa? Huh. Doflamingo’s fleet’s probably there, already. Claiming everything to himself. Greedy bastard.”

That first voice, the first men, hummed in a knowing way. “Streets are saying he killed Stork, y’know.”

“That’s not what the paper says.”

“You believe in the paper? Dumbass. ‘Course they not gon’ tell the truth.” He chuckled darkly. “Flamingo’s been eyeing his territory for years. Errbody knows it.”

It hurt. It bled. Fuck, fuck. You didn’t have anymore gauze. The sink looked like a crime scene. It’s just pain. I can deal with it. I can deal with it. I can.

You took the roll of bandages you stole from someone on your way to the bar. It looked clean enough, better than a dirty ripped sleeve, at least. You were used to bandaging yourself. Your limbs worked almost automatically, careful not to touch the gash and the – shit – the bone peeking through it.

“But that would be too blunt, wouldn’t it? Would risk his position as a Warlord.”

Another mocking huff. “You know nothin’, do you? When I say he did it, I don’t mean he did it. Or any of his people. He got the paper to tell anyone else to do it for him.”

Careful, careful. The roll was enough to take three turns around your torso – but that was still not nearly enough to stop the bleeding, not nearly enough to protect the wound from a possible – most certain – infection. It wasn’t not enough, and you needed Landon. He didn’t accompany you in your missions anymore, because you did not need protection or guidance. It was great, to not have him around all the time anymore, but you needed him right now, so you took the little Den Den Mushi from the bag and rang.

While the little snail rang, while the people out there still talked and shouted and laughed, you finally pushed the hood of the cloak off your head and looked at your own reflection.

You looked like a mess. The type of mess that means, I’ve been severely injured, I am suffering from extreme blood loss, I will probably need a transfusion. There was not a sign of pride, or triumph, after winning over a strong opponent – the strongest up until then. Grandfather was stronger, of course, but grandfather had never tried to actually kill you. No matter how heavy the training was, you knew he wouldn’t kill you.

You remembered Luffy’s saying of how facing a strong opponent was fun and exciting. You could not sympathize with that. You never sympathized with that.

Would you ever?

Probably not. There was no pride in this business. Just work. Just a successful commission that almost got you killed.

But successful, anyway, and this one would put you above Crowley.

There was a bit of satisfaction in that. But not nearly enough. Maybe the pain in your whole body prevented you from feeling anything positive, or this filthy restroom.

A bar, like Partys Bar, in the other side of the world. Makino always made sure to keep the restrooms squeaky clean. It was impressive, her dedication in keeping a bar clean. And you remembered that it’d been a year and a half since you’d last been there, but it felt like so much more; it felt like a lifetime ago since you ate chocolate cake with her and the Mayor and Luffy, where you could hear the waves crashing and the fresh air after a stormy night.

A lifetime ago.

Was Foosha Village the same, you wondered? It hadn’t changed much in the years you visited. Probably not.

Did Luffy change a lot?

He always looked a bit different every time you saw him. A little bit taller, a little less chubbier. But his smile and his sense of humor and his warmth and his energy stayed the same. Was he holding up well without Ace? Was he practicing everyday?

Stupid questions, of course. He definitely was. These things about him would never change.

You’d changed, however.

Not only because you got taller, or because you had a different haircut, or because your body and your face didn’t look like a child’s anymore, or because you got undoubtedly stronger. There was something about you that changed. Not in a good way. Irreparably so.

It’s the color, you knew. It was absent from your life. Everything was black and white and gray.

The way it was before you met him.

And maybe it’s a bit insane on your part how seeing someone once a year changed your perspective in life so much. How it made you have a goal, a purpose to keep putting up with all of this. The family, the business. How the prospective of seeing him again for a week or so was the equivalent of seeing light at the end of the tunnel.

There was no light anymore, or warmth, or sun. Your life didn’t have space for playfulness, giggles, sweets, or relaxation – not even for a week. And in the rare moments when you weren’t under intense training with your grandfather, when you were sent on a commission – they were getting rarer, more difficult, more expensive – without Landon’s supervision, you couldn’t even bring yourself to appreciate anything.

Not that there was anything to appreciate inside the filthy restroom of a bar with an open wound in your body, of course.

But it’s alright.

You had endured a year and a half without him already. You just needed to endure for a year and a half more. Then, you’d both be seventeen; then, you’d meet him again.

It’s alright.

No biggie, as he said.

You were stronger. It wasn’t enough, still; you had to get even stronger. Not only because you wanted to meet him again. Not even just because you hated Crowley with every fiber of your being and wanted, needed to be better than him in every aspect. No; you needed to be stronger for yourself. Yes, yourself. Stronger, so grandfather wouldn’t be able to defeat you. Or any of your brothers. Or even your father.

Stronger, so no one would stand in your way.

And that was enough motivation. A light at the end of the tunnel.

Alright.

No biggie.

Landon finally picked up the call, right when someone started to bang on the door aggressively. You told him the coordinates. Your voice was quiet and “normal”, but Landon knew you enough to understand you were not okay. You knew he’d be here quickly. Yes, you could trust him.

It hurt, and it bled, but it would be alright, because you could be fixed. You were always fixed in the end. Just a year and a half more. That’s it.

Alright.

No biggie.

➛ 16

If you made a list of people you hated the most, Ichiji would rank second.

Which was an achievement, to make you hate him over your other brothers that had actually tried to kill you more than once, since you only saw him once a year or so. He was the opposite of Luffy – meeting once a year, filling you with irreparable loathing.

You despised him. Truly.

Rude, arrogant, violent, despicable. There was not a good adjective to describe him, other than his physical beauty – but it was all destroyed by the rest. You recognized that he was attractive as a fact, not as a compliment. Nothing in the world would make you like him.

He was eighteen years old now, and did not resemble the lanky boy you met all these years ago. Over 1,80m tall and muscular; a strong jawline, plump lips, a surprisingly feminine upturned nose, the same as Reiju. They all looked alike, in fact (duh), and it honestly made you wonder where did they take that beauty from, since Judge looked like a blonde raccoon that grew too much and had been beaten with a bat.

You could almost excuse his stupid swirled eyebrow. Almost.

Ichiji hid his eyes behind thin sunglasses now. He probably thought it made him look mysterious, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes whenever you saw these stupid sunglasses and his stupid red hair and his stupid red military uniform. He was a Commander, now, along with his siblings. The stupid color coded siblings. Ugh.

You were so immensely grateful for your mask in times like these. No one saw your eye rolls, your disgusted expression; you didn’t have to hold back, the way you always held back around your family. Around your grandfather.

You always avoided speaking as much as possible during these “family meetings” – not that anyone bothered, of course, since it was always the men speaking about war or whatever other manly topic you could not give two shits about. Food was always nice, at least, but eating with this mask on was still a pain in the ass, so you could never really enjoy anything.

You’d been nervous about this specific meeting, however. Because Ichiji was eighteen already.

An adult by Germa’s laws – and most of the world followed this same law, too, though it wasn’t something certified by the World Government. Eighteen.

A legal adult. Ready to get married.

And he was a prince, and Germa was a fucking oligarchy, which meant the Vinsmokes could bend the laws to their will however they liked it. Which meant Ichiji was an adult, but if their spouse was at least two years younger – even if it meant they weren’t a legal adult yet - , the law would accept their marriage.

So you were very, very close to your doom.

You spent months tracing plans of action. You had enough money of your own – money you managed to hide from the family vaults, in international banks around the world. If this meeting had the objective to set a definite date for your wedding… you’d run away. Even if you weren’t powerful enough to fight your family – not yet. Even if it meant you’d have to fight your way out. You were not getting married to that man, not now, not ever–

But turns out, surprisingly, Judge himself brought the good news.

Germa was at war (they were always at war, goddamnit) with some country you didn’t care enough to know the name. It was the Vinsmoke children’s first time as Commanders of the army, which meant they were extremely busy, which meant they had to show off to the population of the North Blue as much as possible to increase their reputation, which meant it was an inappropriate moment for a wedding ceremony.

And you were so relieved that you almost could excuse Judge’s ugly mustache. Almost.

You wished this war would last long years, until you realized the thought was a bit too cruel even for an assassin.

After dinner was over, you found a way to escape their attention – you always did, and thankfully no one noticed your presence enough to care – to some empty balcony of the royal castle. You wanted to smoke – your fingers were almost shaking for it – but you couldn’t take your mask off here, and you didn’t bring a pack with you, so in order to not freak out in front of everyone, you looked for loneliness.

It was chilly, that night. Not a cloud in the sky; the full moon shone beautifully, painting everything in silver shades. You leaned on the marble railings of the balcony and breathed the oceanic fresh air. Germa was so… sterile. Bland. Black flags with the 66 symbol waved with the wind everywhere. There were guards everywhere, too, and you knew many of them paid close attention to you, even though your eyes didn’t see them. Observation Haki worked full time, now, thanks to your training. It was automatic, like a switch in your brain was on all the time.

...Everything about you was automatic, these days. More than you remembered it used to be before him.

An involuntary sigh grew within your chest.

Did… did Luffy miss you the way you missed him, you wondered? Did he think about you often?

You’d been… avoiding to think about him more recently. Yes, seeing him again was one of the goals for why you’d been enduring all of this – but on the other hand, thinking too much about him made everything more painful than it should be.

Not just him, but everything that came along. Quiet evenings. Hot midday sun. The humidity of Mt. Colubo. The animals, the insects, the plants.

...How long has it been since you last touched one of your sketchbooks?

You didn’t have time for any of that. Not under grandfather’s training. When you were not out in commissions, you were with him; isolated. You could not let your guard down around him. You could not relax, or rest, or let your mind wander around. You learned what happens if you did in the worst way possible.

You had scars now – and of course, you had scars before, but there were so many more now. Your arms, now hidden in elbow length black gloves, carried many thin scars from the cuts he inflicted. Virgus’ black katana, Tsubasa, was your close friend now. You knew its blade better than you knew yourself.

And you knew these things were making you undoubtedly stronger. You felt stronger. Anonymous commissioners looked for The White Wolf. You didn’t bother with lowly targets anymore; it was rare of you to even wander out of the Grand Line, where all the power in the world actually stayed. Your paywall rose from a hundred million to four hundred million in less than a year, and by the way things were going, it’d keep rising. Only you and (ugh) Crowley had such a high paywall for commissions at this point.

Urso, Saqr, the twins… you knew they hated and resented you both. But now, you didn’t hear threats coming from them anymore. They knew better. And then there was Ariadne, your younger sister. The last Scarpia child. But she was only five, hadn’t been initiated yet… and you didn’t pay much attention to her, honestly.

Yes, your training, the way you’d been carrying your life was making you stronger. It was worth it.

But it also made you miserable. Which is something you shouldn’t consider, given the Scarpia lifestyle. You shouldn’t seek for happiness. You shouldn’t seek for comfort, or friendship, or an easy life.

But you wanted to see Luffy again anyway.

Another deep sigh.

Fuck. You wanted a cigarette, too.

You were grounded back in reality when a new presence approached.

And you instinctively rolled your eyes so much that you almost saw the inside of your skull.

“Disappointed, my dear bride? Are you so sad you wanted to be left alone to cry?”

You turned around – even though you didn’t want to, but keeping your back turned to Ichiji was never a good idea.

His cynical smirk and his carefree demeanor were infuriating. You hated his uniform, and you hated the way he walked with his hands in the front pockets of his pants, and you hated these sunglasses, and you hated the way he had the audacity to even approach you.

You did not answer him.

Ichiji stopped a few steps from you, his smirk slowly increasing.

“Oh, I love how obedient you already are. Never talking back to me. I enjoy silence the most, darling, so it’s good you’re already used to it. The only sounds you’ll be allowed to make are the screaming and begging for help.”

You still did not answer him.

Ichiji tilted his head to the side. He always tried to make you fall for his provocations. You always resigned yourself to silence. Since he couldn’t physically hurt you, he tried to do it with words, or make you so angry that you’d finally lash out. You wouldn’t indulge him.

He hummed.

“You know, I think I don’t care if you keep this mask after we get married.” And you hated, hated, hated the way he purposefully let his stupid glasses fall to the bridge of his nose so you could see his blue eyes eating you. The way he measured you from head to toe, slowly, in a way that made you want to push him off the balcony. “Don’t really care if the face’s ugly. Just don’t gain weight, will ya?”

You still did not answer him.

Ichiji snorted and put his sunglasses back in place. He took one step closer.

“This only applies until I put a baby in you, of course. After you give me an heir… I will fulfill my promise.” He leaned in your direction and dropped his voice lower. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

I will beat you up so bad that you won’t ever get to walk again. I will make you swallow this mask. This is a promise.

You haven’t forgotten.

Slowly, you turned your head in his direction – just to make him sense that you were looking at him, not just your eyes.

“You haven’t forgotten my promise either. Have you?”

Your voice was quiet, freezing cold like frost. You wouldn’t waste energy screaming at him. But he felt it, and you were so immensely satisfied that he did; the way you saw him take a more serious instance, how his body tensed up almost imperceptibly. Ichiji knew you were no defenseless maiden. He knew about your fame, about what you had done past year, and the fact that he still didn’t have great achievements of his own made him hate you. Envy you. You knew it. You’d been dealing with jealousy and rivalry your entire life.

If you try to touch me again, I will kill you.

That was your promise to him.

You could feel his anger and apprehension crackling under his skin. And yet, Ichiji resigned himself to opening a strained smirk. He wouldn’t try to do anything; he couldn’t. Quietly, you wondered how your fight would go if he actually tried something. Ichiji was half human, half machine – perhaps more machine than human. He was anything but weak.

The fight would be interesting, you thought. Maybe one day you’d finally have the chance to rip his heart off his ribcage.

But not today.

“I can’t wait for us to get married.” This otherwise innocent sentence sounded like a threat.

Shit.

You had to find a way out of this situation before his wish could come true.

Smoking became a habit before you even realized it.

A small way to rebel against the family’s rules, perhaps. You must always take care of your health. Which was already stupid to begin with – smoking wasn’t allowed, but being beaten up by your own grandfather wasn’t considered unhealthy? What were these standards?

A cloud formed in front of your face as you exhaled the smoke. Night had fallen over the busy city; it looked like an infinite labyrinth of little lights down there, from the open window you stood near. You still had a few minutes before security noticed something wrong happened. Yet, you were not in a hurry.

“Why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

You looked over your shoulder.

Ariadne stood quietly a few steps away from you. Her little face was hidden behind a mask with four holes for eyes and patterns that resembled webs. Though you couldn’t see her expression, by her tone, you knew she was frowning.

Indeed, you had pushed your mask aside. “Because I’m smoking.”

“But what if someone sees you?”

“No one is nearby to see me. There are no Video Den Den Mushis, either.”

She went silent for some moments.

“Why aren’t you wearing the uniform?”

Ariadne wore hers – the standard: skirt and jacket in black, white button shirt, white socks and black leather dress shoes, the only color being the red scorpion crest on the right side of her chest. You, on the other hand, wore a burgundy pinafore dress with a pleated skirt and a fitted bodice, with subtle ruffles on the shoulder straps. Underneath, a long-sleeved white blouse and a black ribbon tie around your neck. Knee high, chunky combat boots on your feet – these were more for action than fashion, just like the black gloves you always wore when working. A beret with the same color of the dress completed the look, but it was inside your small purse at the moment, as you couldn’t wear it if you had the mask on.

“Because I like to look cute,” you explained in a nonchalant tone. “And the family uniform isn’t cute.”

Ariadne went silent again.

Colors were pretty much forbidden within the family. When you weren’t around them, however, you’d immediately change into something more colorful and girly. It was also another small way to rebel. Scarpia assassins are supposed to be devoid of any personality traits; you refused. You liked to spend money on clothes and you liked to wear jewelry and you liked to feel pretty.

You smoked the last drag of the cigarette and dropped it on the floor, squeezing the sole of your shoe over it. It burned the carpet underneath.

Finally, you looked at her again.

Ariadne.

She turned six a week ago. You still remembered the first time you accompanied your brother on a commission: Urso was nine then. You were the same age as her. You remember seeing Urso struggle against his target, and he punched you in the stomach so hard that you vomited when you pointed it out. Other than that, the whole thing was pretty boring.

Ariadne was so much shorter than you.

Which is a stupid thing to realize. She was six. Obviously.

Six years old.

And she had just witnessed you murder a man.

The body was sprawled over the carpet in the middle of the office. It was an easy commission; it had been a while since you took down an untrained target like that. You knew it was because she would accompany you – an easier, safer target, as Ariadne would be in danger if you faced your usual commissions.

You didn’t want her to be here at first. Why you? Just because you were the only other girl in the family? Yeah, that was probably the reason.

The only other girl in the family.

Six years old.

You watched her in silence.

Ariadne stood obediently. Her posture was perfect. She did not move. A six year old child not moving. A six year old that already knew death, was intimate with its concept – the same way you were introduced to killing before you could properly speak.

That little thing was your sister.

It was a bit stupid of you to have this epiphany at that moment. You had six siblings and you actively ignored all of them. There was no family bond between you, no love – the only bond that kept you together was that of the blood and the anger.

But Ariadne was your little sister. The only other girl in the family. And she was ten years younger than you. What could she know and understand about the world?

Just blood and anger? The same way you were taught – until you went to Goa Island for the first time and found out there was so much more than that?

You remembered how pointless and boring life was before all that. You remembered how you envied Reiju and her pretty pink dress the first time you met her, while you had to wear the plain Scarpia attire instead.

You sighed heavily. Ariadne moved slightly, as if she received an electric shock. You noticed for the first time that you made her nervous.

Finally, you took the beret from inside your small pouch and put it on your head. You looked at your reflection in a mirror nearby and adjusted your hair before turning to her.

“Let’s go.”

Ariadne hesitated.

“Let’s go where?”

You walked out of the room. She followed shortly, running to match your pace. Her personal butler – a bald man you didn’t bother to know the name – followed as well.

“Young Mistresses, we must go back to the ship–“

“Don’t follow us.” Your tone was dry. You didn’t bother to look back at him or to slow your pace. The butler was taken aback. You could feel Ariadne’s surprise.

“Young Mistress, I must ask where you are going.”

“None of your business.”

“You are not allowed to do anything that isn’t involved with the completion of the commission.”

You stopped abruptly.

For the first time, you turned around to look at him.

“Are you arguing with me?”

You didn’t raise your voice, because you almost never did. Serenity and calm as usual. But he felt it, and you knew that he felt it – the frost in his veins, his throat getting dry, the hole in his stomach. The danger.

The butler gulped and looked down, avoiding your gaze obediently.

“No, Young Mistress.”

You still stared at him for some more seconds. “Wait for us in the harbor.” You turned around and walked down the corridor. “A word to the main house and consider yourself dead.”

Ariadne followed you quickly. You both entered the elevator.

It was silent for a few seconds.

“You can take your mask off after we leave the building.”

She hesitated.

“What are we going to do?”

“Buy you something cute.”

Ariadne didn’t say anything.

But you felt through your Haki that she was excited – and that, for some reason, made you open a small smile.

Tigerlily Island was a piece of golden heaven on the second half of the Grand Line. Home to many banks, casinos, hotels and entertainment zones; it was the land of the wealthy – i.e., the land of money laundering. Scarpia Family itself had a bank of its own in the island and a few businesses that were not only profitable, but also managed to clean most of the money coming from commissions. Tigerlily was a den of white collar crimes. As it involved billions and billions or berries circulating every day, the World Government was willing to turn a blind eye to it (as it was given a very generous “donation” monthly, of course).

It also happened to be surprisingly peaceful. Not only was it controlled with iron fists by a single mafia, the Tigers, there was a sense of camaraderie in the air. No one wanted to be snitched on. All of these criminals came with their treasure chests to make more profit, or lose everything in the casinos, or simply have a good time.

There was a murder that night, however. The owner of a bank. But as he died with his secrets, no one really bothered.

It also had really nice malls.

Ariadne was a bit spooked. She’d never been in such a crowded place before, and being without her mask scared her, but she got slowly used to it. You hopped from store to store. She didn’t really know what to do with herself, or which clothes to pick, and she was still nervous in your presence. You just let her pick whatever she wanted, even if nothing really matched or made much sense.

“I’m not allowed to eat ice cream.” She mumbled when the waitress brought a large ice cream cup with extra chocolate topping, even if her eyes gleamed at the sight. Bags and bags rested around your legs. It was way past midnight, and yet the mall was still crowded; Tigerlily never slept.

“Who said that?”

“Bill.” That was probably her butler. You looked around.

“Is Bill here?”

“...No.”

“So.” You shrugged and took a spoonful of your own ice cream.

Ariadne tried not to smile as she took a bit of hers.

Like everywhere else in Tigerlily, the ice cream parlor was unnecessarily decorated with gold. If it wasn’t golden, then it was pink. Tables were filled with couples and families; the air smelled sweet, which brought you memories.

Luffy would like it here. There are so many things to do.

You sighed and rested your cheek on your knuckles, looking at nowhere in particular. Just a few months more.

Ariadne eyed you silently.

When you quirked your brow at her, she stiffened and whipped her eyes back to the ice cream.

“You can ask me stuff if you want to.”

She stiffened again at your voice, as if hit by an electric shock. Thinking back on it… have you ever sat down to talk to her before? Well. No. You didn’t even know she could speak until a while ago. Ariadne had good vocabulary for a six year old, in fact; you also knew she already could read and write perfectly, though this wasn’t a great achievement for a Scarpia.

There were other kids in the ice cream parlor. All restless, loud, laughing, stuttering, their mouths and the collar of their clothes dirty with ice cream.

Ariadne sat in front of you quietly, always avoiding your gaze. All adult-like and polite.

Again, it made you feel something weird.

You waited until she gathered some courage to speak.

And yet, at that moment, your senses sharpened.

Your Haki. It took in a new presence nearby. While everyone else in the area felt like lit matches, this presence felt like a torch.

Someone strong.

A strong presence is always something to note, regardless if it feels aggressive or not. You looked over your shoulder towards the shop’s glass doors; the sidewalk out there was packed.

“What’s wrong?” Ariadne asked in a tense tone, noticing your sudden change in behavior. You didn’t answer; instead, waited.

Waited.

The presence was coming closer, its heat spreading around the street.

Closer.

The presence walked past the ice-cream parlor; you watched through the glass doors.

Your heart rate spiked.

“Wait here.” You told Ariadne without looking back, standing in a jump and rushing towards the doors.

The sidewalk was crowded – and yet, you could only see that single person, as if your sight could not focus on anyone else.

“Ace!”

He stopped on his tracks.

The man turned around with a frown at first. It didn’t take long for him to spot you.

His face immediately brightened with a grin.

“Wolfie?!”

A cackle erupted from within you; one so odd, already so unfamiliar – something you haven’t felt in years. Something involuntary that pulled you off your well-controlled state, turning off autopilot.

Because that was Ace.

He rushed towards you, laughing, his dark eyes brightening up the same way his lips did. He loosely carried a bag over his shoulder, but dropped it immediately as soon as he got close enough. Ace put both hands over your shoulders and measured you up and down.

“What the hell! I can’t believe it!” He giggled excitedly. “Look at you! You’re all grown up now!”

You giggled as well, suddenly feeling a tiny bit bashful. Ace was also very different from what you remembered: he was even taller, more muscular than before – which was hard to ignore, since he was shirtless, choosing to just wear black jeans shorts and boots. His wavy hair seemed a tad bit longer than what you remembered. Now, he wore a light brown cowboy hat with two smiley faces. A necklace of red beads sat around his neck, which immediately made you remember Dadan. His skin was much tanner now; he always had freckles on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, but now they had spread towards his shoulders as well, a testament of someone who lived with the sun, salt and sea.

Ace looked like a proper man now, not a teenager. And just by looking at him, you could see some things have changed inside of him, too – and not just in terms of power.

“Of course, it’s been three years!”

Ace nodded. “I was thinking about you these days. But I’d never imagine I’d find you in a place like this! What are you doing here?”

“I’m–” Oh. You looked back at the ice cream parlor. “I’m with my sister.”

“Sister? You have a sister?!” You must’ve mentioned at some point that you had siblings, but you and Ace have never actually talked too much about your life – and you doubted he’d remember anyway. Regardless, he seemed excited for some reason.

“C’mon. You want some ice cream?”

He huffed and crouched down to take his bag again. “And you even ask?”

You decided to move to the outside tables in the balcony for a bit more privacy – probably because Ace’s gigantic back tattoo was attracting way too much attention. Not that he cared.

Ariadne was more than surprised to see him walking in.

“Who’s this little princess?” Ace crouched down to get to her eye level. You were a bit surprised as well at the way his tone softened… have you ever heard him speaking like that before? Not with you or Luffy, at least. “Hah, she looks like your tiny clone, Wolfie!”

Ariadne looked between you and him with widened eyes and warm cheeks. She sent you a subtle questioning gaze – Wolfie? – before looking at him again.

Then, she stiffened.

“...Nice to meet you. My name is…” She thought for two seconds. “...Spidey.”

You chuckled. Smart girl.

Ace quirked one eyebrow. “Y’alls parents have a thing for animals, huh?”

“They do.” And it wasn’t even a lie.

Ace politely offered his hand for her to shake. “My name is Ace. Nice to meet you, too.”

She got even more flustered.

As the three of you settled and Ace asked for every single ice cream flavor available – the waitress looked panicked – you observed him quietly. You felt so stupidly giddy. That was Ace! After three years! He was a little piece of what you cherished most, part of the things that made you happiest in this world. And even though you thought you’d never see him again, there he was.

You eyed the tattoo on his upper left biceps – ASCE;the message behind that S was pretty obvious, so you decided to not mention it. The other tattoo, however…

“Gotta be honest. I never thought you were the type to sail under someone else’s flag.”

Ace smiled with his cheeks full of strawberry ice cream, looking surprised. “You heard about it?”

“Course I did. You’re famous.”

He shrugged. “I used to think the same, too. But things change. Whitebeard will be the King of the Pirates!”

It was surprising to hear that coming from his mouth. As far as you knew, Ace didn’t have the same ambition as Luffy… but he seemed rather supportive of his brother’s dream. Well. As he said – things change.

There was also the fact that joining the Whitebeard Pirates made Ace pretty… untouchable, in a way. Many people wanted him dead. You knew commissioners were willing to pay millions for his head. But Scarpia had a rule – and that was of putting the safety of the family above anything else. To incite the anger of an Emperor of the Sea by killing one of his pirates would not keep the family safe. Now that you were next to Ace, however, you thought this wouldn’t be a problem to him, even if the family took him as a target: Ace was strong. He deserved that 500 million bounty and the fame.

But you weren’t going to tell him that.

“So.” Ace said excitedly, turning his body in your direction. His eyes beamed – and a part of you already knew what was coming. “How’s Luffy doing? Is the idiot okay?”

And, just like that, it was like he popped a balloon inside of you.

You crossed your arms and avoided his gaze. Your smile faltered, even if you didn’t plan it.

“I… haven’t been visiting him, Ace.”

His shoulders dropped.

“What happened? Don’t tell me you guys fought.”

“No! It’s nothing like that.” You massaged the nape of your neck awkwardly. “I had some… family problems.”

Ariadne stared down at her ice cream glass.

Ace rested his cheek on his palm and hummed. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Well. You asked me that, back then…”

Ace huffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, that? Don’t worry about it! Luffy is a crybaby, but he’s also tough. He’ll live.” He then smiled once more. “He’ll set sail in a few months, too, right? So you’ll get to meet again!”

You nodded, feeling that balloon inflate inside of you again. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Just the thought of seeing Luffy again made you fuzzy inside, which made you feel a bit pathetic. You looked at Ace again, desperate to divert his attention from you. “So, what have you been up to? Besides joining the crew of an Emperor, I mean.”

Ace beamed.

You soon discovered that he was much more chill now, compared to the grumpy boy you met years ago. His smiles were easy, his tone always welcoming and warm. You noticed he was developing slight wrinkles on the outer corner of his eyes, both due to sun exposure and simply because he smiled too much. Ace gesticulated a lot, happy to share his experiences with you – and even happier when he found out you’d been to the same places (though in the span of three years, he’d already been to more islands than you).

Of course – your stories weren’t nearly as exciting. To you, it was always just work; going to a place, completing a commission, going back home. Meanwhile, Ace would go on to say how he befriended this or that guy, stayed at that forest and that city, fought this or that pirate. He was a great story teller, too.

It made you both happy and sad.

Happy for him. Ace was never meant to stay in Goa. His life belonged to the seas – and it was obvious how accomplished he felt, as if the invisible weight that held him back was lifted. Ace was happy, and his happiness was contagious, as if he was an actual torch, enlightening his surroundings and spreading warmth.

Sad for yourself. Which was horrible. Self-pitying is disgusting and pathetic. But you couldn’t not feel the slight sting in your heart when you compared his life to yours. His freedom. You barely talked about yourself, because all you had to say involved your training and your commissions… nothing worth bragging about.

Just a few more months. Just a few more months.

Ariadne watched Ace speak with glow in her eyes. It was a bit funny, because you could relate exactly with what she was feeling.

“...but that was a bit after I left Wano.”

Ariadne widened her eyes slightly. “You’ve been to Wano?”

“Yep!” Ace slurped the last drop of his chocolate milkshake. Now the table was filled with empty cups of ice cream. She’d been keeping quiet for most of the time, so her sudden question took you off guard. “You know it?”

She looked down sheepishly. “...I’ve read about it in books.”

You could see this was a topic of her interest. Wano was a mystery to the entire world, as a secluded country under the rule of an Emperor. Simply off limits to most. You haven’t even gotten close to it yourself. It was definitely impressive that Ace managed to break into its borders.

Ace opened a soft smile and rested his chin on his knuckles. Ariadne got even more flustered.

“You remind me of a friend I met there, you know?”

“A… friend?” She fiddled with her fingers nervously.

“Yeah. Her name’s Tama. I bet you’d get along well.” He nodded as if he just had an idea. “When you go to Wano, tell her you’re friends with Ace! She’ll get super excited!”

Ariadne got more flustered.

“...Are we friends?” She was taken aback.

“Yeah!” He offered her his fist.

She hesitantly fist bumped him and immediately retracted her arm – but she could not hide the tiny smile in her lips.

Ace giggled and looked back at you. “She’s so much like you.”

“You think so?”

He hummed. “In appearance, at least. You were more annoying.” Ace poked Ariadne’s side, making her giggle for the first time (had you ever seen that girl giggle before?) and pointed at you with his thumb. “D’you know that, Spidey? Your sister here was a pain in the ass. You’re much nicer.”

“What? You were annoying!” You punched his arm jokingly and laughed. “You were a prick, in fact.”

He gasped in a dramatic way and put his hand over his chest. “Me?! A prick?! But I’m the nicest guy in the world! Tell her, Spidey!”

Ariadne laughed a bit louder.

And at that moment, something familiar filled you.

The sound of laughter, of Ace’s loud voice and Ariadne’s sheepish giggling. The smell of sweets and the aftertaste of ice cream in your tongue. The city full of life around you, the gentle night breeze.

You were happy for the first time since that afternoon when you said goodbye.

It felt nice.

The sun was already rising when Ace said goodbye.

He ruffled Ariadne’s hair (making her blush) and hugged you (making you blush. He’d never done that before. And he was still shirtless). Ace was definitely someone different now.

“I told you, remember? That we’d end up bumping into each other in the New World.”

“Yeah.” It was your turn to fiddle with your fingers nervously. You were still not great with goodbyes. “So… until next time, I guess?”

“Let’s meet again sooner this time!” He grinned mischievously. “Luffy will be out in the sea soon. We should all meet up and beat his ass, now that we’re both stronger than him!”

You laughed and nodded. The idea sounded funny enough. “Agreed!”

You watched Ace go, waving back at you two excitedly, with a big smile plastered over his face. Ariadne waved back with smaller movements. You stood there until he disappeared amid the crowd – but you could still feel him, the torch, brighter and warmer than anyone else in that island.

Just imagining you, Luffy and Ace reunited – this nicer Ace – was enough to make you smile.

But for now, it was time to go back to your life. You weren’t free yet, and you already abused your luck for the day.

“Let’s go.” You told Ariadne, picking some bags from the floor while she took others. It felt like each step you took away from Ace made the colors of life fade bit by bit.

Fuck.

You lit a cigarette while balancing the bags on your other arm.

“He’s weird.” Ariadne said after a while.

“You think so?”

She looked down with a thoughtful expression. “When you go to Wano, he said. As if I’d ever go there.”

You took a drag and quirked one eyebrow. “But you want to go there, right?” Her expression softened. She looked to her sides, as if afraid anyone would see her nod. Unfortunately, you understood her apprehension very well. “So why would you never go?”

Ariadne looked up at you for the first time as if you were insane. “Because I can’t.”

“You weren’t supposed to be out in the city shopping past midnight, were you? But here we are.” You shrugged.

“But that’s because I’m with you.”

“So, if you want to go to Wano, you have to be strong like me.”

That made her think. After a while, she nodded, because that made sense in her head. Of course it made sense. That’s the Scarpia way of life: strength is the only answer.

Yet, at the same time, it made you think of Ariadne – six years old, small, quiet and introspective, having to go through everything you’d been through in order to get stronger.

You didn’t like that.

Something inside you wished she’s just be able to do whatever she wanted without facing any pain.

You are a Scarpia. Life will never be kind to you.

That was the reality she was chained to – and there was nothing you could do about it.

For now, having some nice clothes and ice cream at inappropriate hours would have to suffice.

➛ 17

You were destroyed.

Arms, legs, head, stomach. Everything hurt. Your limbs were bandaged. Each movement sent waves of pain through your body. It’d been days, but you still couldn’t eat.

None of that mattered anymore, because a News Coo dropped the paper from the sky.

And in between the pages, there was a new bounty warning.

It felt almost supernatural that you caught the newspaper before any of the butlers could. How it fell on your hands. How that warning slipped from between the pages and you crouched down to take it.

The moment your eyes laid on it – the pain was gone.

All the things that hurt you, that made you feel miserable, grandfather’s training, everything – everything was brushed aside. The uncontrollable laughter that erupted from your chest, the shaking of your fingertips, your increased heartbeat.

Everything else was little, easy to ignore.

It was him. Him, grinning in that photo. His name, his bounty of 30 million.

And for a moment, you felt silly for wondering for the past months if he really would set sail, if he’d still keep that dream. Many things can change in three years. What if he had changed his mind? What if he decided to lead his life in another path and you’d simply never meet him again?

You should’ve never doubted him.

That same day, you accepted a commission in Paradise.

Tracking them down wouldn’t be hard if you weren’t forbidden to see him.

You could get information on anyone from any known corner of the world if you wanted; you just needed to make a call. But that would slip into Crowley’s ears and you couldn’t risk that. So, taking advantage over the fact that no butler followed you anymore, you took your time to investigate their whereabouts.

Fortunately, he made it pretty easy for you.

Once again, you felt an involuntary fit of laughter escape when you found another bounty warning – this time, glued to the wall of a bar. The entire city was talking about it: how this newbie pirate and his crew defeated a Warlord. Because of course Luffy would defeat a Warlord less than a year into his career.

Judging by the place they were last seen, there were three possible islands that their Log Pose could lead them.

You chose one based purely on instinct.

It was a small city with markets and fairs – the perfect place to replenish supplies. It had many harbors which were always packed with ships, including ships from the Marine. The economy of that island was solely based on it. Albeit small, the city had a constant crowd of travelers. It wasn’t particularly pretty, but the constant summer weather was nice.

You had arrived past night, slept in the simple room of an inn. Some wounds in your torso still hurt, but most of the bandaging was already unnecessary. Any pain you could possibly still feel was brushed aside.

Maybe you chose the wrong island. Maybe they’d sail past it and you’d lose the track. Maybe they were already way too far for you to reach them, and you had to report back to the main house before the situation got too suspicious. There were a million possibilities.

Or maybe– maybe you’d actually find him, but he wouldn’t care? What if he forgot about you? He had a bad memory.What if meeting you would be an inconvenience? He had his crew and his ship to take care of, after all… and you never agreed on a certain place or time to meet. Maybe you’d slow him down. Maybe he’d rather meet you in a different place at a different time.

This simple thought was torturous. After everything you had endured… if he acted nonchalant, if he simply didn’t remember – it’d break you in half more than anything grandfather or Crowley ever did. What would you even do? Well, you had your plan of running away before the wedding could happen, but what about after that? What would even be the point of–

An explosion.

It shook the floor. Made the people on the street look around in confusion.

A presence.

A presence. A presence. A presence at East.

A presence you hadn’t felt in over three years.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You jumped over the roof of the nearest building, spotting a cloud of smoke in the distance. The noises of a fight… shots? Screams?

That presence that presence that presence–

You ran.

Jumping from roof to roof, getting closer to the source of that commotion. Soon, you saw Marine soldiers running down there on the street, carrying their guns. You’d seen a Marine ship docked past night… they yelled orders, following someone. You jumped to the bell tower of a church nearby, trying to get a better view–

And you saw it.

The top of a familiar straw hat.

Down there, running in zig zag to mislead the troop that chased him.

At that moment, it was like the world bloomed with colors again, its starting point being the red of his shirt.

Your fists tightened, and they were shaking. It was like your soul was shaking at that moment. You gathered all the air in your lungs for what you were about to say.

“Luffy!!”

Your voice echoed in the bell tower, equalizing its sound to the entire square down there.

You watched as he skidded on the stone floor, suddenly stopping on his tracks, one hand over the hat to keep it in place. The troopers were getting closer. And yet, he took his time to look around frantically with a frown.

You saw the exact moment he spotted you. The single second of apprehension that followed.

You saw, from that distance, the moment his face brightened up with a grin.

You saw him ignore the troopers and make the opposite way, jumping over their heads and landing on a nearby roof. You heard the familiar sound of his arm stretching, gripping around the pillar of the bell tower so he could propel himself like a cannonball. And you heard his laughter from that distance – his loud, boisterous laughter that sounded a bit different, but also the same.

“Wolfie!!”

He was still mid air when his arms wrapped around you.

And maybe it was a bit cheesy how the doves resting on the tower got scared and flew away the moment you hugged him back, engulfing you in a mess of white feathers. Maybe it was a bit cheesy how the bell rang, loud and clear, indicating the midday, at that exact moment. Yeah, it was totally cheesy how the troopers shots sounded like fireworks in the back of your head.

But it didn’t matter, because it was Luffy, it was him, and he was hugging you, and you were hugging him, and he was warm, and he was giggling with his face on your shoulder, and you were giggling back.

Three years of pain, of loneliness, of creating a tougher persona; it all dissolved in three seconds.

The wait was over.

A/N: I LOVE CLIFFHANGERS :D

One Piece's canon timeline is pretty insane. Romance Dawn to Alabasta happens in the span of like a month, and it'd be pretty impossible for anyone to travel from the New World to Paradise this fast, unless they were right by the Red Line. SO! For the sake of fic making sense, we'll pretend that all these events took a few months to happen, so our girl actually has the beliavable time to travel this far!

Reader is supposed to be Luffy's opposite in many ways, and that includes fashion. I like the idea that she dresses all preppy and doll-like in contrast to his more laid back, nonchalant style. That being said, not to be too Wattpad-y, but I imagine this is how she dresses most of the time (also bc she's inspired by Gogo Yubari lol). You can ignore it if you don't like it tho

If you read this far, please don't forget to leave a comment!! Your comments always brighten up my day. I'm so exicted to the following chapters!!! See you <3

[zorostitties]

Samsara; 2

⤕ She was plagued. Shadows loomed over her mind. She was alone in a world where no one dared to look into the occult. She missed the faceless man from her dreams, the one her soul longed for. She wanted to meet him again.

He was plagued. Alucard had loved countless times. There was one love he was never able able to forget, however; the one that was ripped away from him. He knew they could never meet again.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: reincarnation, angst, romance, smut, hurt/comfort

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex, mental health issues, blasphemy (?), reader is a girl kisser, century xix misoginy, mentioned suicide and rape (very brief, non descriptive)

rating: 18+

word count: 12k

A/N: gosh this ch got so long. but i'm very proud of this one!! - when writing this fic, i like to imagine @/viccerys' version of alucard! their fanarts are absolutely gorgeous and i love their interpretation of him! - i'm really into 80s rock/love ballads so i listened to looking for love by whitesnake on repeat while writing this chapter. feedback as usual is much appreciated! enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

Sometimes, you wondered if everyone else was right about you.

Flourished imagination. Excessive daydreaming. Not wanting to face reality. Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe the things you saw and felt were really not real. Of course… you didn’t doubt your premonitory dreams and visions. Those were way too accurate to not be real. But...the shivers? The sudden overwhelming discomfort that made you want to rip your hair off your scalp, scream, lay on the floor in fetal position? What if it was just some sort of brain disease?

Maybe that was why your stomach was turning. Maybe that was why the tiny hairs in the back of your neck were raising. Maybe that was why you felt this sudden cold creep under your skin as you approached the ceremony hall.

It was either that… or there was something horribly wrong about that place.

You didn’t want to get inside.

The feeling got worse and worse and worse as you approached it. Clara spoke some encouraging words on the way (“You look stunning!” or “It’ll all be okay. No one will hurt you.”), but you barely listened as a strange buzzing sound muffled your ears. It was… it was as if fog covered the area around the ceremony hall and the garden. But Clara didn’t mention fog, so you assumed only you could see it.

You didn’t want to get inside.

Your body was begging you to turn around and run.

DANGER, something in your mind screamed — as if there was a wild animal there. Your heart raced. Your fingertips trembled. Turn around and run. Turn around and run. Turn around and run.

But maybe it was all in your head.

The hall was filled with people that laughed at you, made rumors about you for fun. You knew many more rumors would surface after that night simply because you attended. And you knew that man was there — Alfred Zardini… your future husband. The first time you’d see him in person. And you didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

So… maybe that was why your brain was reacting that way. Scared of being in a situation that would cause so much discomfort. Maybe that is why it was heightening your senses as if you were about to face great danger.

But you didn’t want to embarrass yourself anymore. Not in front of the entire city. Not when it’d bring Clara more shame.

So you tried to take a deep breath.

This time it is all in your head. Relax. It’s just people. It’s just people.

You walked behind Clara into the hall.

And the moment you stepped inside—

You knew.

It was not all in your head.

There was something horribly, horribly wrong about that place.

It made you want to vomit. It made you want to run. The fog was inside the hall, too, and the smell— God, the stench. It was rancid and disgusting and you didn’t want to breathe anymore. And— and that black mud— it was everywhere, dripping from the curtains and soaking the floor and making everyone’s clothes dirty with it… what the fuck was that black mud?! Why wasn’t anyone else seeing it?! How could they not feel that stench?!

Turn around and run. Turn around and run.

It was loud. Loud loud loud loud. The music playing. The chatter. The voices. Not spoken voices — the voices that reached your mind, not your ears. Their thoughts. Their feelings and emotions. Everything reached you from all sides, bombarding you with more information than what you could bear. You were the center of attention— and you felt it, the mocking, the contempt, the curiosity. They were expecting you to yell all of sudden or embarrass yourself. But you actually wanted to run away this time — you wanted to run run run and hide, you wanted to take these clothes off because the gown was way too heavy and didn’t let you breathe and oh my God I am suffocating I am suffocating I will pass out I don’t want to be here no please please please—

Don’t embarrass yourself, the somewhat sane part of your brain tried. Don’t embarrass your sister in front of all of these people.

But I don’t want to be here. There’s something wrong here. Something evil.

Some of Clara’s and Julien’s friends came to greet you. You tried to smile, tried to not look so nauseous— but how could you when this disgusting black mud was everywhere, even on their teeth? How could they not feel that stench?

Don’t embarrass your sister. Don’t embarrass your sister.

Voices popped up in your mind. Miss Salles. That pretty thing is crazy. Clara is brave for bringing her along. Mr. Zardini might be insane too for wanting her as a wife.

Mr. Zardini.

No no no no no. You didn’t want to meet him. Not only because you didn’t want it from the start — but right now? As you felt about to spit your own guts out? As you could barely breathe? You simply had no conditions to hold a decent conversation with anyone. He’ll laugh at me. Everyone will laugh at me. Please, don’t approach me. Please, I just want to be alone.

The musical group started another song. Something a bit more agitated. Couples swiftly floated to the center of the hall to dance. The hem of their gowns — they were drenched in that black mud. I’m gonna vomit.

And then you spotted him across the hall, slowly making his way towards you.

No no no no no please no no no. He looked exactly like the painting in the locket — and it didn’t make it any better. He… he could very well be your father. No no no don’t approach me. Stay away from me. No no no I don’t want to marry you I don’t want to be your wife.

You could barely breathe.

Turn around and run. Turn around and run. Turn around and run. Turn around and run-

And then—

Then—

The world stopped.

It went silent.

Suddenly, the overwhelming cacophony halted. You couldn’t hear voices or thoughts or feelings anymore. Your vision blurred.

You couldn’t focus on anything else but the man standing in front of you.

He… Where did he come from? You had no idea. He blocked the sight of Mr. Zardini behind him… and everything else, too.

Your eyes widened slightly. A soft gasp that you couldn’t hold back escaped.

He was beautiful.

No… beautiful was an inappropriate adjective to describe him. He was something that couldn’t be properly conveyed in words.

The stranger was tall — perhaps the tallest person in the hall. His hair was a long, wavy waterfall of pure white strands that cascaded over his broad shoulders. His skin was porcelain white… had you ever seen someone so pale before? But surprisingly, his skin tone didn’t make him look sick. It contrasted greatly with his golden eyes — literally golden, you realized; not hazel. Golden. Like melted gold. Each facial feature seemed symmetrically measured to perfection; his nose, lips, eyebrows, jawline… he wore an elegant black attire with only a few golden details and buttons of his coat. It was simpler than what most men around him wore, but he didn’t need anything more luxurious to stand out.

He was the only person not drenched in this strange black mud. He was clean.

His eyes were serene. In his lips, a small — even charming — lip tightened smile.

Your eyes widened even more when, with the elegance of a swan, he bowed politely and offered you a gloved hand.

“Ms. Salles, may I have this dance?”

And then, you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Not because of the horrible feeling of danger hovering in the air. Not because of the anxiety. Not even because he was embarrassingly handsome.

But because of his voice.

It was deep. Quiet. Husky. Seemed to reverberate in your bones.

And you’d heard it before.

In your dreams.

The faceless man…

The voice of reason spoke again. Don’t embarrass your sister.

You couldn’t leave him waiting. But… but you were supposed to dance with Mr. Zardini, right? Wouldn’t… wouldn’t he be offended…?

But you didn’t care about Zardini. Not at all.

So, somehow, you remembered how to move. You remembered how to blink and open a demure smile. You remembered how to pick your skirt and bob a polite curtsy.

You remembered how to take his hand.

And for the first time, you wished you weren’t wearing gloves.

Physical touch was… most times, unbearable — because you could feel people through their skin. Their emotions and sometimes even their thoughts. Of course… being in this hall full of people made you feel them as well, but it was like standing near a furnace: you could feel its heat. Physical touch was like putting your hand inside the furnace. You couldn’t control that; it was uncalled for, it was maddening. You were used to wearing gloves even in the warmest weather.

But at that moment, you wished to touch his skin. You wished he wasn’t wearing black leather gloves as well. Maybe… maybe like that, you’d understand him a bit better.

He guided you to the center of the hall smoothly – and once more, you remembered that you were the center of attention. They are all shocked somehow. Is it because they knew Zardini was going to court you? Yes, it was that, but there was another reason. Their thoughts and intentions were like a flock of parrots hooting around you all at the same time.

Miss Salles Miss Salles Mr. Zardini so disrespectful what is happening what what what does he want with her the Duke Mr. Tepes the Duke of Wallachia–

Sudden cold ran down your spine.

A Duke?

He was a Duke?!

Finally, you faced him again. The stranger – a Duke! – bowed elegantly once more; you immediately bobbed another curtsy before taking his left hand. His right hand came to rest on your waist, which immediately made more shivers run down your spine. His hand was big like… like the rest of him. His grip was firm but gentle. The serenity in his eyes remained. God – it was hard to keep eye contact with him.

The Duke began to guide you in the dance.

For a moment, you had something else to focus on: dancing. You had trained with Clara at least two days prior… you weren’t a socialite like her. You hadn’t attended many balls in your life, as your parents were way too embarrassed of you to allow your participation. So, she had to step in and teach you over and over again. It didn’t feel that hard when you were dancing with her – but right now? With him?

You focused all of your might into not stepping on his foot or tripping over your own dress. You knew you probably looked stiff and funny to everyone else… as if you needed another reason to be laughed at.

Before, you wanted to run away because of the sense of danger; now, you wanted to run away due to the sheer awkwardness of it all…

Until he decided to speak for the first time.

“These people don’t have anything better to do, aye?”

It caught you off guard.

That deep voice that sounded so oddly familiar. He was surprisingly soft spoken… but what surprised you even more was his somewhat good humored tone. Slightly annoyed, even – but not at you.

Apparently, he didn’t like all that attention as well.

“Oh, I believe they don’t.” Your voice was as quiet as his to not let the couples around you eavesdrop. “If they did, they wouldn’t waste their precious time coming here.” You almost choked on your own words. That was inappropriate. He is here after all. What way to talk to someone you don’t even know! You cleared your throat and avoided his gaze for a second. “My apologies, Your Grace.”

He chuckled.

It caught you off guard again.

“No need for apologies. No need for your grace, either.” He frowned slightly. “Though… I don’t remember presenting myself.”

Oh.

He actually didn’t. No one did, at least with spoken words.

You tilted your head awkwardly. “Well. I heard. They’re loud and irritating. Like a flock of parrots.” That was also inappropriate. You weren’t that used to social interactions overall, and the sheer nervousness of it all made you speak before thinking.

He chuckled again.

“A flock of parrots sounds like an accurate description.”

The music elevated for a moment. He made you twirl around; your gown fluttered around your body like a whirlpool of emeralds before his hand was on your waist once again.

“But you haven’t presented yourself either, and I already knew your name… so we’re even.”

It was your turn to chuckle dryly. “It’d be a miracle if you hadn’t heard about me at this point, sir… as I am this circus’ main attraction.” You didn’t intend to sound so bitter, but it was quite impossible to hide it.

He narrowed his eyes. “I certainly see why you’re the main attraction. It has nothing to do with any circus, however.”

It caught you off guard again.

Harder this time.

You almost gasped.

A quiet giggle followed.

“You flatter me, sir.” He did actually flatter you a lot, but perhaps the nervousness stunted your nerves, preventing you from embarrassing yourself even further. “But there’s no need to pretend you didn’t hear what you heard. My reputation precedes me. I am used to it.”

He quirked his eyebrow slightly. “Is it true?”

His tone was still lighthearted. Not a drop of judgment, hesitation or awkwardness… and it made you feel less and less nervous. Made the annoying parrot voices quiet down. Suddenly, you caught yourself not caring about the black mud anymore. Or about the crowd of spectators… or even if what you said was appropriate or not.

You shrugged. “It depends. Would that make you afraid of me like everyone else?”

“Yes.”

“Then it is true. I am in fact insane.”

He chuckled again, closing his eyes for a moment. “What have you heard about me?”

“I heard you came all the way from Wallachia… to stand in my brother-in-law’s ceremony hall. Which makes me wonder if you are a bit insane as well.”

“I certainly was going insane some minutes ago.” He nodded. “You are right. They are loud and irritating. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for business…” His gaze became a bit more intense. “...but my evening became very interesting all of sudden.”

You smiled.

The first genuine, unapologetic smile you opened from the moment you got out of bed.

And he smiled back. A smaller smile… but genuine nevertheless. A smile that reached his beautiful golden eyes.

He twirled you around once more. You couldn’t hear or feel anyone else anymore… anyone but him.

The song ended. The couples stopped dancing, the crowd applauded. You faced each other at some steps distance.

“But let me do things the proper way. It’d be rude of me not to.” He, once more, bowed politely with his right hand over his chest and his left arm behind his back, a lighthearted smile never leaving his lips. “I am Adrian Tepes, the insane hermit of Wallachia… at your service.”

A quiet but unavoidable giggle erupted from your chest. Once more, you bobbed an elegant curtsy – a much less stiff one now that you felt more comfortable in your own skin.

“I am Miss Salles. The court jester… at your service.”

And it was strange, that small moment you shared. How comfortable and at ease you felt with this man you knew nothing about. How he made you forget about everything that plagued you, even if for just a few minutes.

Until that happened.

The black mud. In one second, it was still there.

The next second – it wasn’t.

It was so abrupt that your smile immediately vanished; your stomach dropped. All of that sticky, disgusting black liquid disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. For the first time, you saw clearly what color the attendees’ gowns were, the impeccably clean marble floor, the shiny crystal chandelier…

All gone.

Maybe you should’ve felt relief, for the sense of danger vanished as well. But… there was something so eerie about it that you couldn’t help but feel even more apprehensive. What was that thing? Why did it disappear?

When you looked at Mr. Tepes again… he wasn’t smiling anymore. He had a frown over his features, his eyes hardened. He looked around to the oblivious crowd as if searching for someone specific.

His gaze dropped to you again.

And for a second, he seemed to hesitate. Just for a second.

“My apologies, Ms. Salles. I must make myself absent.” He bowed his head respectfully. “It was a pleasure to meet you. Truly.”

You gulped and bowed your head too. “O-Of course. It was a pleasure meeting you as well.”

Mr. Tepes walked away.

You weren’t brave enough to follow him with your eyes.

You stood there for some moments, feeling the awkwardness creep all over again. You were alone once more. The attention never left you. The parrot whispers were coming back… the perception of what happened was coming, too. Everyone expected you to dance with Mr. Zardini. But you danced with another man instead…

You didn’t want to face him. You didn’t want to face anyone.

Quietly, you walked to the back of the hall.

No one tried to approach you. You already knew they wouldn’t. At that point, you didn’t care if it’d be rude to simply vanish five minutes after arriving; they already had enough material to make up rumors for months. So, rapidly, you walked towards the back doors that led to a corridor connecting the hall to the manor.

You unceremoniously ran as soon as the doors closed, almost tripping on the hem of the dress – and just stopped running when you reached an office on the first floor.

No more inconvenient voices or looks – but that didn’t ease your raging heart and mind, not anymore.

It took Clara three minutes to find you.

She closed the doors and looked at you with widened eyes.

“What just happened back there?”

You shrugged helplessly.

“A dance?”

Clara walked from side to side, holding her own head. She looked absolutely distressed.

“Oh, God. They’re all talking. This is not how things were supposed to go. And- And Mr. Zardini, he looked so displeased–“

“Well, what was I supposed to do? Say no to a Duke?!”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, I know – you had no way out of that situation. It’s not your fault. It’s his fault.” Clara stopped and put both hands on each side of her waist. “Respectfully, is he not aware of good manners and etiquette?”

“He wasn’t disrespectful.”

You avoided her gaze.

And that was enough for Clara to understand.

God, how you hated the fact that you could feel her feelings slowly fill the room like smoke. Of course, she was a woman as well; she saw the stark difference between Mr. Tepes and Mr. Zardini. Who wouldn’t be flattered? And she felt bad for you, because that dance gave you a little bit of hope that maybe, maybe you wouldn’t have to be tied to that much older man…

Clara sat on the couch in front of you and looked down at her skirt.

“I didn’t know him before.” Her voice was quiet. “Julien had mentioned that he met a duke a few years ago… but I didn’t know he would attend. He appeared last minute.”

Slowly, you sat down by her side.

Silence.

Silence.

She looked over the sofa to check if someone was coming through the door before turning to you.

“...He’s Adonis incarnate, isn’t he?!”

Both of you started giggling like two little girls.

You covered your mouth, feeling your entire face and neck get hot. Clara looked at the door again before continuing in an excited half whisper.

“God, I got so shocked when he approached you!”

“I got shocked, too! I almost didn’t know what to do.”

She tightened her hands in fists and let a very unlady-like groan escape. “It was so satisfying to see their faces, sister! All of these vultures shocked that he chose you for a dance.”

“Why me, however? I don’t understand.”

“Oh, please.” She pushed your shoulder jokingly. “If he’s Adonis, then you are Helen of Troy. Why would any gentleman not want to pick you for a dance?”

“Stop.” You pushed her shoulder back. You knew Clara was just trying to lift your spirits… no man aware of your history would want to be seen with you, no matter how embellished you looked. There were some seconds of silence again. “Why do you think his hair is white like that?”

“Oh, I’ve seen someone like that before… Anne’s child. Her babe was born pale like that. Not a bit of color in him. Poor thing couldn’t even be out in the sun for too long without getting burned.”

You avoided her gaze again… for a different reason this time.

If you told her that you thought he looked like a vampire, she’d say you were hallucinating again.

Clara never seemed to notice the differences in people. Nor your parents… and most people around you. But you knew it. They looked like human beings, talked and moved like human beings… but the scent of blood that followed them made them stand out. The red aura that revolved them.

You hadn’t seen many in your life – at least, not many while awake; your dreams constantly involved these creatures. Maybe two or three, all aristocrats, always from a distance. But you never forgot them. The sheer sense of danger they exhaled. The fact that predators like them could blend in a crowd and no one would bat an eye at them.

Mr. Tepes looked like one. But he lacked the crimson aura and the smell of blood… which made you wonder if Clara was right this time.

But so many strange things happened in the span of ten minutes that his unusual hair color was the least of it. That black mud that covered everything and vanished in a second… the absolute sense of danger… what caused it? Was it even something relevant, or was it just your heightened anxiety making you see things?

Him…

His oddly familiar voice…

The sense of comfort you shared in that short dance.

Almost as if...

Another shiver ran down your spine.

Almost as if you already knew him.

One week later, you were set to meet your future husband… again.

And it was awful how everyone already treated him as your fiance, even though he hadn’t properly asked your hand in marriage… because they knew no other man would be brave enough to even begin any sort of courtship. That’d be the best and only chance you’d ever have at marriage.

No one ever asked your opinion on this, obviously. You were invalid. Incapable of making choices of your own.

Truth be told… after what happened at the ball, Clara even tried to slow down the process. Of course, a simple dance wasn’t the same as courtship; a few minutes of conversation didn’t mean the Duke was interested in you. But, well… Clara had some hope. Who wouldn’t?

But Mr. Tepes had vanished.

Julien didn’t know where he was hosted. According to his words, the Duke was a very private man. He didn’t care for lavish stays or grand introductions despite his position, preferring discretion and isolation instead. And… well, if he was interested, he would’ve already made some sort of move.

He didn’t have to.

He definitely wasn’t the prince on a white horse you had fantasized about when you were a kid. You had been through enough to understand that this sort of thing didn’t exist.

Mr. Zardini, on the other hand, was adamant in meeting you.

Again, according to Julien… he was able to “explain” the Duke’s behavior as, “the people of Wallachia have different manners. Don’t see it as an insult.” And surprisingly, Zardini believed it. More than that – it seems he didn’t even mind it at all. He really wanted to meet you officially.

Julien hopped around in happiness that the accord wasn’t broken – because yes, to him, this was nothing but a business accord. Zardini was the owner of a great shipping company, after all, and Julien wanted to link with powerful families to strengthen his own influence.

Clara just felt sorry.

Feeling sorry doesn’t change anything, unfortunately.

She stood behind you as you faced the mirror.

“You look like a spring flower, sister.”

A light gown for the warm weather, the color of cherry blossoms. Simpler jewelry. Delicate gloves, as usual.

You did look beautiful.

But the lack of a smile on your face ruined everything. There wasn’t any reason to be happy at all. And Clara knew it. You saw her struggling to find the right words. She didn’t want to encourage you to “behave” or indulge Zardini… but she knew you had no way out of this either.

Her hand touched your shoulder softly.

“I am sorry, sis–“

“Please, don’t.” You took her hand off your shoulder delicately, deciding to look anywhere else but her reflection in the mirror. “Let’s… let’s just get this over with.”

Clara looked down and nodded as if words got stuck in her throat. She turned around and left.

It’d be a long afternoon.

Turns out Mr. Zardini paid little to no attention to you during lunch – and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Him, Julien and a cousin of his that came along, Mr. Ricci, were too absorbed in keeping their conversation between each other. Clara barged in with clever commentary as usual. You stayed shut, focusing in trying not to vomit instead.

They already knew you were crazy, right? You wouldn’t try to act like you weren’t.

You couldn’t even look at him, in fact.

Zardini.

He was impeccably well dressed. His outfit, manners and ways of speech made it clear that this was a man of power, born and grown in wealth. Very intelligent. His gray beard was perfectly trimmed, hair perfectly styled. Everything about him was perfectly done.

That wasn’t a compliment.

In the moments you had the courage to lift your gaze to him, you could see that he… he wasn’t exactly ugly. Maybe you’d have found him very attractive twenty years ago. Zardini clearly took care of his appearance, more than most man would.

But that didn’t change the fact that he could very well be your father.

That didn’t change the fact that you were at his mercy with no visible way out.

That didn’t change the fact that you’d have to perform the duties of a wife with him.

You’d have to let him kiss you. You’d have to lay in bed and let him stick his flaccid penis inside of you. You’d have to let him do it for five minutes (which is what he probably could take) every night until he finally managed to make you pregnant. And then you’d have to give birth and raise his child.

And everyone expected you to be grateful for it.

You wanted to die.

You thought of throwing a tantrum. It’s what everyone in this table expected of you, isn’t it? You were great at those. Sometimes your fits were real. But you learned to fake them over the years, just to annoy the nuns and set havoc in the convent. Pushing the table towel, hollering like an animal, kicking the air, drooling… you seriously considered doing it.

But Clara was there.

And your nephews somewhere in the house.

You had a few night terrors ever since coming to live with them. They hadn’t witnessed any of them… but you didn’t want them to see what actually happened to you when you had one of these fits. These boys were the only people on Earth who didn’t see you as a dangerous creature. You didn’t want to change their perception.

So you behaved.

No smiles. Not participating in any conversation. Not acting as if you liked anything that was going on. And that’s the best they would get.

After lunch and tea were over, Zardini asked to have a private walk in the gardens with you.

You’d rather die. But there was no way out of there, was it?

The afternoon was awfully beautiful. A refreshing breeze, blue skies, the flowers were blooming. You walked slowly on a stone trail by the lake. You held a parasol the same color of your dress; it had no intention to protect you from the sun, however, but protect you from him, as if to create a visible barrier between you two.

Zardini was tall. He smelled of tobacco and a strong male cologne that made you even more nauseous. His voice was grave and quite authoritarian.

Worst of it all – he didn’t seem bothered by your apathy. Not at all.

“Beautiful property, this one. I heard your sister helped with most of the renovations and the new garden. Talented woman.”

“She is.” You nodded without bothering to look at him.

“A good mother. A well loved woman by high society. A diligent wife. You sister is perfect in every sense.”

You frowned slightly. Why exactly was he complimenting Clara that much all of sudden? Was it to make you feel bad? Was it because he secretly liked her but chose you instead since she was already taken?

Zardini stopped walking, which made you stop as well. You realized he did it now that you were at a considerable – but still safe and respectful – distance from the gazebo where you had lunch.

He fiddled with a golden pocket watch absently, eyes glued to it.

“We’re both grown adults. I believe we can speak clearly without the formalities required by societal norms.” For the first time, you were fully paying attention to what he had to say. “I figure you already understand what my interests are with you.”

You were taken aback.

This is usually not how things went. Not so straightforward.

You nodded.

“I also would like you to understand that I do not require perfection from you. I do not expect or hope for love either; respect and loyalty are more than enough.”

“And what should I expect from you with this marriage, sir?” The first time you actually spoke out loud that afternoon, matching his stone cold tone. “You’ll already get a good business partnership with the Saint-Clairs. Already very beneficial without my respect and loyalty.”

If he wants to be direct, then let’s be direct.

Zardini quirked one eyebrow. He didn’t seem upset by your harsh retort.

“Protection. And I know what you might think. You’re a woman of high status, what else could I provide that you already do not own? But unfortunately, the Salles estate is in possession of your brother-in-law, and he does not plan on taking care of you forever, no matter how hard your dear sister might insist. I believe there aren’t many more gentlemen willing to do so, either.”

That was like a punch in the gut.

You knew he was right, but you didn’t expect him to know all this. Perhaps it was obvious to everyone else… yet, the way he shoved it in your face made you deeply upset.

Made you despise him.

“You will have my properties. The comfort. The peace you need. I’ll just ask you one thing, other than giving me an heir.” He stepped closer. Dropped his voice.

There was something eerie in his green eyes.

“The use of your abilities.”

Soft wind made the grass rattle, the trees shuffle. A note of silence extended between you two.

You had a notion of what he meant. But you didn’t want to believe it.

“I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

“You do.” Zardini chuckled dryly. “As I already said… we can speak freely without any formalities. People say… absurdities about you. But from the moment I first heard the rumors, I knew the truth.”

Your jaw dropped.

He… he couldn’t be talking about this, could he?

You gripped the stick of the parasol tighter, getting increasingly more uncomfortable. “I still don’t understand what you mean.”

Zardini looked down at you with a strange smirk.

“What was my mother’s name?”

You were, once again, taken aback.

“How would I know your mother’s name? You haven’t told me.”

He waited in silence.

The wind made noise again, played with your dress. Your discomfort grew more and more. Was this man in his right mind?

But you heard it.

With your mind. Not with your ears.

You heard the name.

You didn’t even need to concentrate to hear it; it slipped into your head with ease.

“...Victoria.”

Your voice was quiet. Hesitant.

Zardini’s green eyes gleamed.

“Extraordinary.” He said under his breath. “Truly extraordinary. I have never met a psychic with such raw talent.”

“A what?”

“A psychic. Someone who bears the power of feeling and seeing beyond the common human senses. Someone who can even predict the future with ease.” His gaze over you had a new type of interest; he analyzed your features as if you were an expensive Chinese vase. “...And to think your parents hid you for so long. Heavens, they had no idea.”

You watched him in shocked silence.

This old man… who you already despised. But, at that moment, you let that aside. Maybe because shock stunted your other emotions.

Your voice came as a fragile whisper.

“Do you… do you believe in me?”

No one ever did before. Ever.

No matter how much proof you had. No matter how hard you screamed. No one ever believed you. No one ever gave you the benefit of the doubt. Not even your beloved sister.

At that moment, Zardini did.

His eyes softened; so did his smirk.

“I’ll give you the most quiet, comfortable life… so you can flourish your abilities to its highest capacity. No more judgment. No more questions. All you have to do… is see the future for me in return.”

You didn’t know what to say.

Maybe you should’ve been happy at the fact that someone believed you for the first time. But that was still an inescapable situation; he was not asking for your collaboration. Neither was he asking your hand in marriage.

He was demanding it.

And he had the power to do so.

That same evening, you got engaged.

He knew she was coming.

It was impossible not to hear her quiet steps approaching the library. Inside the colossal empty castle, any small noise became a thunder in his ears, as if living in the pipes of an organ. He could hear the freezing winter wind out there, softly touching the windows. Tiny rodents hiding from the snow. The flame of the candlestick beside him crackling quietly.

When he lifted his gaze and saw her entering the library, he was not surprised.

She had a blanket wrapped around her figure. Her hair was loose, a gracious mess falling over her shoulders. Her face was slightly swollen. Barefoot.

She approached him in silence.

The castle had many libraries spread around its sections. Each library stored specific genres of books. The astronomy tower… the philosophy library… his mother’s study, where he didn’t have the courage to enter anymore. Some sections of the palace were… silently forbidden. He didn’t get near these places. She didn’t, either.

This library was one of these places.

His late father had a library of its own right in his chambers. But this one… the circular library equivalent to three floors of books with a glass skylight on the roof, was where he kept some of his most precious discoveries. There were probably over sixty thousand books inside that library alone. All written by the man himself.

He didn’t get there. Not even to clean it. After months, a thin layer of dust covered the entire place.

There was a reason for him to be there that night, however. Multiple books were scattered on the floor around him. He sat on a blanket and some cushions to protect himself from the cool marble floor, but didn’t bother to light up the fireplace.

And he didn’t mind her presence there.

Months ago, when she arrived, this would be unthinkable. He didn’t trust her enough to be near his father’s ancient knowledge.

Things were different now.

Quietly, she sat in front of him.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice was almost as silent as the single candle cackling beside him.

She shook her head. “It’s too cold.”

He dropped his eyes back to the small book at hand. “You could light up the fireplace.”

“You should light up this fireplace.” She caressed her arms under the blanket to ward off the cold. “It’s freezing here.”

“I don’t mind cold.” He flipped a page. “I’m more worried about you walking around barefoot at night during winter.”

She sighed and eyed the books around. “…Did you find a solution?”

“Not yet.”

The heating system was not working in some sections of the castle. The pipes were probably damaged during the battle months ago… and he was trying to find a solution in his father’s engineering books.

That was a great excuse.

There weren’t just engineering books around him. There were… other things, too. Random annotations. Even poetry. It could be unthinkable to anybody that the late king of the vampires would write anything of the sort.

Hesitantly, she reached for a thin book next to her, as if waiting to see if he would prevent her… but he didn’t. She opened the first page and read quietly.

A small smile adorned her features.

“He had a beautiful way with words.”

He nodded softly. “When he wanted.”

She looked down at the pages again. “He… truly loved her. Didn’t he?”

He didn’t answer.

Silence lingered between them. But… it wasn’t uncomfortable like it was in the beginning. When they still had their walls up. When most days were reigned by awkwardness and aggressiveness. When they were wary of each other, as if expecting to wake up in the middle of the night with a knife in their throats.

It had been months ever since she decided to say. He didn’t invite her; she just… stayed. And albeit he wasn’t fond of her in the beginning, it was still better than being alone. Anything was better than sitting alone in this cold, soulless castle.

At first, he tolerated her.

Then, he… got used to her presence.

She could be funny when she wanted to. No… she was funny. He realized that after she started to tolerate him. An acid sense of humor he could relate to. He caught himself giggling at her self deprecating jokes and even at the way she joked about him.

She was smart. Not an academic type of intelligence, but a type one can only learn through life. He could see that life was not easy on her – and it made him more and more curious to know about her past, even though she scarcely touched the subject. She was his opposite in this sense. He… had been trying to move on. But many times, he caught himself stuck in the same place, in the same feelings. Meanwhile, she was like an unstoppable avalanche; always facing forward. Never looking back.

It was thanks to her that they had been busying themselves with renovating the castle. It’d take years for two people alone to fix all the damage in a structure so big, but they had been doing a great job until that point.

It felt that they were silently healing each other in the process. Day after day. Meal after meal. Argument after argument. Laughter after laughter. They tolerated each other. Then, they got used to each other… and now, they appreciated each other.

This appreciation was growing into something… deeper. Unspoken. But it was there – and none of them were oblivious to it. The brief touches. The quick glances. The racing hearts.

It was escalating. The two knew it.

None of them planned on fighting it back.

Her eyes were still down when she spoke again.

“...I’m a bit thankful to him, in a grotesque way.”

It made him immediately look at her and forget about the book in his hand.

The quiet fragility of her voice. She… had never showed fragility in front of him.

He immediately understood this was important.

“How so?” His voice was as quiet; peaceful, welcoming, to encourage her to speak.

She hesitated before starting.

“...I’m from Targoviste.” His eyes widened slightly at her sudden confession. “Our house was a bit far from the city… into the woods. I was the only girl in the family. Only had brothers.”

She hesitated again. He did not rush her.

“One night, a man knocked on our door. A vampire.” Her grip on the thin book tightened as she spoke. “He was drunk. I didn’t even know vampires could get drunk. But that one… he could barely stand on his feet. He was still strong enough to destroy half of the house and injure two of my brothers. He threatened to kill all of us. Laughing. And then...” Another extended pause. Her throat audibly tightened more and more. So did his heart. “My father fell on his knees and begged him to leave his sons alone… in exchange of his daughter.”

He felt a cold hand grip around his heart.

“Young and pretty, he said. Will serve you well.” She chuckled dryly. “The drunk vampire accepted the deal. So merciful.”

He didn’t know what to say for long, agonizing moments.

“Did he not… feed off you?”

“He had other interests.” His stomach dropped. “But do not worry. I spent barely a day in his lair. As I said, he was a drunk… while he slept, I put a stake through his heart.” Another chuckle. She scratched her nose with the back of her hand. He saw the subtle gloss in her eyes, the way she blinked rapidly… “Took me five days of wandering in the woods to find our home. But when I got there…” She shrugged. “Targoviste was already destroyed. A sea of blood. Corpses out in the open. Few survivors. A horrible sight.” Another pause. “The night creatures wandered into the woods, too.”

She took a shaky deep breath.

For the first time, she lifted her gaze to him. A painful tightened smile crept up her lips.

“And I was glad when I found my old house and saw my father with his guts ripped off. Because I spent five days planning on how to kill him.” She covered her mouth for a moment, eyes wandering elsewhere… almost lost. “The night creatures took care of it for me. Lifted a burden from my shoulders.” She gulped and blinked rapidly again. “How cruel of me, aye?”

It was automatic. Even instinctive. Before realizing, his hand softly cupped her cheek – softly, softly; almost hesitant. His hand was freezing cold, but she didn’t flinch away. Their eyes met once again.

“You’re not.” His voice was but a whisper.

At that moment, it was as if none of them dared to breathe.

This… feeling surrounding them. Quiet. Fragile. Intimate in a way they had never been before. It was as if they were scared to move or speak and make it go away.

But she was implacable like an avalanche. She always moved first.

Her eyes dropped to his chest. Slowly, her fingers touched the neckline of his white blouse. She pushed it with her fingertips.

“...Does it still hurt?” Her voice, like his, was but a whisper.

The big scar crossed over his chest. Inflicted by his own father. The wound that almost killed him, took a year of hibernation to close again.

He unconsciously caressed it all the time, always with a slight frown over his features. She had noticed it.

“Sometimes,” he admitted quietly.

She locked eyes with him for a moment.

Then, carefully, she inched closer.

He watched, barely breathing, with his heart pounding in his chest, as she came closer and closer. She pushed the blouse to expose more of his chest. He watched, mesmerized and astonished and even a bit confused, when she pressed her soft lips over his scar.

The touch of her kiss was featherlight… chaste, in a way. But it immediately spread fire through his veins, pushed all the cold away. She pressed another kiss… and another, following the shape of the scar. And another. And one more.

Until he couldn’t take it anymore.

He captured her chin on his fingers and guided her lips towards his.

It was warm, too. It was easy. It was fulfilling.

A simple press of lips at first that extended for long seconds – and it was like the world stopped turning at that moment.

She leaned away. He looked down at her. She looked up at him.

And then, they were kissing again.

Their lips moved unhurriedly, matching a pace that set real fire in their hearts. The hand that once held her chin went to rest on the back of her neck; she, on the other hand, placed her hands on his broad shoulders. And it was slow, almost agonizingly so; it deepened and deepened and deepened, tongues meeting and entangling, until their breaths became faster and more difficult, until all the cold went away, until all they could hear were the wet noises their kisses produced, until she sat on his lap.

“Have you ever done it before?” She whispered, almost out of breath.

He shook his head. No, he hadn’t. But he wasn’t embarrassed of it, nor he put much thought into it.

She smiled – and that alone made his blood boil like lava. Her smile wasn’t mocking. It was… endeared, perhaps. Lustful.

The blanket she brought along was forgotten. She wore nothing but a long sleeved nightgown underneath.

She did not break eye contact while taking it off.

He stared, mesmerized, at her body; the way visible shivers ran over her skin due to the cold, her gloriously exposed chest, her hardened nipples. His large hands didn’t hesitate to touch her, bring her closer, caress her. His lips didn’t take too long to greet her – neck, shoulders, breasts… and when he heard her soft moan for the first time, he knew he would never get tired of it. Never.

She guided him. She showed him where to kiss, how to kiss. She was sweet. It was warm and sticky. He was, once again, mesmerized – how mesmerized! – at her reactions, her deep breaths and hisses and moans, the way she gripped his golden locks while he tasted her, ate her; he didn’t know pleasuring someone else would be so pleasurable. To know he was the cause of the sounds she made and the obscenities she whispered and the way she trembled and squirmed under his touch. The sweet power he had over her in these moments. It made his pants ache.

And finally, it was his turn to get undressed; she was also astonished – how astonished! – at his muscular physique, the way his body resembled the perfection of Greek statues. Her core ached for him the moment she heard his deep moan for the first time, how he closed his eyes and took a deep breath when she enveloped her hand around his member. He was large and heavy and pinkish, and his cheeks and neck and chest blushed, and he truly had the perfection not even an immortal could achieve.

And when he finally slipped into her – God! He claimed for God, even though he didn’t believe in one. He claimed for God, for she was so tight; no one told him it would be so tight and so incredibly hot, steaming hot. She was wet, wet, wet, and slippery, and for a moment he got scared to hurt her. But she knew what to do. She told him to move slowly at first. He waited until she got used to his size.

She couldn’t tell what was better: the feeling of his member deep inside of her, or the glorious sight of his pleasured expression when he first slipped in. How he tightened his eyes, mouth slightly open, the increasing blush, the thin layer of sweat, his golden locks cascading around her face. He had the beauty of a God, even though she didn’t believe in one.

He picked up a pace. The library, previously silent and cold, was now filled with obscenities – skin hitting skin, moans and grunts and hisses, panting, the wet sounds. The shivering winter replaced by trembling sweat. He filled her once, but realized she hadn’t reached her high with him, and he wasn’t satisfied. He could do better. So they did it again. With her on top this time. And on her back. And over the desk. Repeatedly, continuously, until she couldn’t take it anymore, until she was trembling and weak and out of her mind, until the blankets were drenched in sweat and juices, until the sun peeked in the horizon once more, until he was finally satisfied.

Only then, finally, they fell asleep on the floor of the library, over blankets and cushions. The fair skin of his neck and chest where peppered with hickeys, his back softly scratched. They should probably get up to bathe, but none of them minded. Not at that moment, when she fell asleep over his chest. He didn’t want to break that moment of intimacy by moving.

Before falling asleep, he noticed how it was all so… natural. It didn’t feel awkward or embarrassing. It was just a progression of what had been happening since they met. It was comfortable, and warm, and easy.

It was friendship. It was companionship.

It was love.

The same way she filled this empty cold castle with her presence, she filled his empty broken heart with love.

He could only hope that he, too, had filled her aching heart with love. For he would not be able to let her go after that night.

He would never be able to let her go.

You didn’t want an engagement dinner, but what you wanted didn’t matter.

Zardini paid for all the expenses. The food, the musicians, the servants, the decorations, your gown and your jewelry. The gown was ivory white with matching elbow length gloves, small pearls decorated your figure. The chastity of a bride, as if you had never been kissed or touched before. The manor was decorated in white, too: white roses, ribbons, the servant’s outfits… everything in white. Zardini’s family, friends and associates were present. Most of the town was there, too.

More than ever, you wanted to die.

A circus, that was. Zardini showed off his wealth. His friends patted him in the back, for he had achieved a beautiful bride (even though she was not right in the head) and had landed a new business accord. The townspeople, like before, came to inspect the freak. You were forced to stand there, greet his family – soon to be your family – barely three days after he proposed.

Why was he doing everything so quickly? Was he scared of you trying to run away? Well, maybe you should. Disappear, change your name, live without a penny – anything would be better than this.

It didn’t matter that Alfred Zardini believed in your abilities; that didn’t make you relieved. He wanted to use you with this thing you couldn’t control. He wanted to cage you the same way your parents did. The only difference is that now, it’d be in a manor by the sea, not an asylum.

Maybe you should be grateful. How many girls and women you met didn’t have half this luck? Completely forgotten by their families, locked forever in convents; their parents claimed that their girls had offered their lives to God, but in reality they were too embarrassed of them. Girls that were ostracized for melancholy, for “insanity fits”, because they got pregnant before marriage or because they were dishonored. Treated like criminals, worse than animals, doomed to live their lives in imprisonment and shame.

How many of these women would happily marry Zardini in your place?

It only made you feel more miserable.

You didn’t want to eat. You didn’t want to dance. As usual, Zardini barely paid attention to you, and once again you were grateful. You were the bride, the literal main attraction, but you chose to sit in a corner and stay there in silence.

This isn’t what marriage was supposed to be. A forceful transaction with no feelings involved.

And you hated, hated, hated how your brain made you dream of him again past night; the library dream was a recurring one. The dream were you gave yourself for the faceless man for the first time, and he accepted it. A dream filled with raw love.

You’d never experience it with that old man. Never.

You knew what real love felt like – both in your dreams and in reality, even if it was brief and painful and you couldn’t think too much about it without feeling the urge to cry. But you also knew you were doomed to never having it again. Your parents doomed you at nine years old, when they judged you were an embarrassment and sent you to a hospital for the first time.

Uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. Uncomfortable. You could barely breathe.

That was when you saw it.

Creeping in the carpet. Slowly filling the room.

The black mud.

Your heart raced. Your eyes widened. No no no no not this again.

Why was that happening in a social gathering again? Could this be a sign that it really was just your nervous mind playing tricks?

Instinctively, you covered your mouth and nose. The stench – awful. It smelled of decaying flesh, completely overwhelming the sweet scent of roses that filled the room previously. That thing was slowly drenching the carpet, making its way inside the hall and dripping from the ceiling and walls and–

I can’t take it this time.

You got up and walked out.

While you still could control yourself, you made your best to not run and draw unwanted attention. They were all too focused on Zardini anyway, and they didn’t know the labyrinth that house was. You walked out of the room, crossing corridors and doors until you were outside to breathe some fresh air, still walking at a fast pace.

Once you were outside, you ran. Unceremoniously.

You crossed the property. Past the gazebo and the lake into the gardens. The full moon high in the clear sky illuminated the way in silver hues – which was of great help, since your vision was blurry and you wouldn’t be able to run in the dark. Finally, you reached the orchard where the greenhouse stood.

You stormed in and finally, finally, finally cried.

It was the type of cry that hurts the chest, that tightens the throat, that doesn’t let you breathe. You crouched down, not caring if it’d dirty the hem of the dress, and held your head while crying. I can’t breathe, you thought, trying to make your lungs work the way they should, but they wouldn’t obey. You sobbed, almost choked, and simply cried.

How glad you were that you had time to run away from the manor before this started. This type of weeping… the ones that came when you were truly, inexplicably desperate, were involuntary. You couldn’t control them. Sometimes, they came without much of a reason. You could be having a perfectly normal day and had one of these “fits”.

You had a reason to that night.

Not only just because of the incomprehensible black mud or stench, but all of it. You were miserable.

So you just stayed there, letting it all out, not caring if the makeup was ruined by the end of it… until your breathing went back to normal and your heart calmed down.

After long minutes – you were sure Clara must’ve been looking for you at that point – you got up.

The circular greenhouse was packed with flowers. Clara really liked gardening, and you liked to be there because it was very distant from the manor. It was peaceful and beautiful, the perfect place to paint. Your easel was still there in the corner with unfinished charcoal sketches. You leaned the small of your back on the central table where dozens of pots with the most different flowers were and stared into nothing.

God. You probably looked like a mess.

The previously ivory gloves came out dirty when you wiped your cheeks… which made you look at the engagement ring. A single huge diamond around your finger.

That could very well be a shackle.

You thought of the many women you met in asylums and hospitals. Their hopelessness. The suicides. You thought of Lucy, even though you usually avoided to.

Maybe you really were being ungrateful.

You took a deep breath… it was time to face reality.

You were about to leave when a deep voice saying excuse me made you jump and yelp.

Someone had entered the greenhouse through the back door.

And you couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Mr. Tepes,” you gagged, one hand over your chest, feeling your heart race violently.

The man looked terribly sorry.

Moonlight touching him through the glass roof and walls made him look even more ethereal, if that was even possible; his long hair shone like silver threads. He, once more, wore all black, but in a less formal attire, with gray buttons and details. A black cloak fell over his shoulders. He had a brown leather belt around his waist and black gloves.

His hand was lifted in an appeasing gesture.

“My apologies, Miss Salles. I did not mean to startle you. I saw some movement in the greenhouse and thought someone might be needing help.”

You straightened your back and instinctively ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look a little more presentable. God, I must really be looking like a mess, by the expression he’s making…

“Mr. Tepes.” You repeated in a more controlled tone. “I… I didn’t know you would come.”

You didn’t bother checking the guest list. Of course Julien would find a way to add one of his prestigious associates in the list, even if the dinner wasn’t his.

The Duke approached slowly and hesitantly. There was a slight knot of worry between his eyebrows. “...Are you feeling unwell?”

Hell. I never thought I’d ever see him again, but now that he’s standing in front of me, I look like an absolute mess.

You sniffed and nodded, trying to open a smile.

“N-No. Thank you.”

He stood in place for some moments, still at a considerable distance. That was the most obvious, idiotic lie in the world, but he decided not to question it.

“Do you want to be left alone?”

“No!” And oh God, how embarrassing it was that you said that so quickly, how weirdly high pitched your voice went. But no, you didn’t want him to go away, even though you felt horrible; you didn’t know when and if you’d ever seen him again – and you didn’t care if it’d be inappropriate for a bride to be alone with another man. You cleared your throat and once again, tried to smile. “No, you may stay. T-The greenhouse is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

He wasn’t looking at the flowers.

Mr. Tepes approached slowly.

He barely made any sound as he walked… that’s why you didn’t notice him entering the greenhouse. He still seemed hesitant. Each step he took seemed to send waves directly to your heart.

At last, he settled by your side, leaning on the table as well.

Some seconds of silence lingered in the air.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” He bowed his head respectfully. Don’t congratulate me for this, you wanted to say, but just bowed your head back. “...Things evolved rather quickly, if you allow me to say. It hadn’t been two weeks since the ball.”

You chuckled dryly. “Mr. Zardini is in a hurry for reasons unknown.”

It seemed he wanted to say something more on the matter.

But refrained himself.

A few more seconds of silence.

“...Miss Salles.” He called quietly. His voice was so infuriatingly deep. It almost caused a physical reaction whenever he said your name. Mr. Tepes was, once again, hesitating. “I… would like to ask you something. But you can choose not to answer.”

For the first time, you looked at him.

His side profile was also infuriating. Mr. Tepes kept his eyes down in somewhat of a serious expression.

“Yes?”

It looked like he was choosing the right words.

“That night at the ball. Right before my departure. You seemed to… react to something no one else did.”

You frowned slowly.

Was he talking about the moment the black mud vanished?

It immediately made your stomach drop.

“What did you see?” He finally looked at you.

It was your turn to avoid his gaze.

Why was he talking about this of all the things you wished he’d say? Bring all the discomfort you left at the manor?

You shook your head softly.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.” You fiddled your fingers uncomfortably. “Crowds make me uncomfortable. Especially judging ones.”

“Miss Salles.” More goosebumps. His tone became gentler and welcoming. “I know it might sound abrupt, since we don’t know each other well… but you don’t need to lie to me.”

Your eyes met him again.

That’s precisely what made you more nervous and agitated.

It… it felt that you knew him already. More than just dancing a song and exchanging a few words. His presence was comfortable. Why on Earth would you want to be in a closed space with another man if it wasn’t? And perhaps it was embarrassing, for you had no idea if he felt this much as ease around you, but that’s how you felt.

Was it because his voice was strangely similar to the one you already knew so well? Was it because, through your short first meeting, he did not treat you like an aberration? Or was it simply due to the obvious and intense attraction you felt for him?

You had no idea.

A tired sigh escaped past your lips.

“...You’ll think I’m insane, sir.”

He smiled softly. “I already know you’re insane. You told me so.”

You giggled, looking down for a moment. He chuckled, too.

You turned your body in his direction slowly. Your right hand tapped on the wooden table nervously. He turned to face you too.

And waited.

And waited.

“I…” Why was it so hard to speak? You’d been through that before: explaining to “doctors” how this thing worked, until you finally realized no one believed you and you began to blatantly lie in the hopes they’d think you were normal. You were afraid that he’d laugh. But you continued speaking anyway. “I… feel the people around me. Their emotions. Sometimes, their thoughts. I also see things… things no one else sees. In my sleep. Sometimes awake.”

He nodded slowly.

“And you can’t control it. That’s why crowds make you uncomfortable.” Your eyes darted up at his face. He… didn’t question anything. Just went to the obvious conclusion instead without any judgment.

You nodded.

Mr. Tepes hummed and held his chin in a thoughtful expression.

It was the second time a man actually believed you in the span of a few days. What the hell was happening?!

“How exactly does it work?”

“I don’t know. Things just… come to my mind. Like whispers… but they’re not exactly words, though I can decipher them as words.” Your eyes narrowed slowly and you went silent.

“What?” He asked quietly.

“...I can’t really feel you. It’s like I’m alone. How strange.” You analyzed his beautiful features with confusion.

“Is it a bad thing?”

“No. It’s peaceful... But still strange.” You avoided his gaze again.

If you told her that you thought he looked like a vampire, she’d say you were hallucinating again.

You froze.

Mr. Tepes didn’t exhale aggressiveness or violence. He’d been anything but respectful. But what if… what if he was not? What if he was the cause of the strange black mud you saw?

What if he was dangerous?

A vampire?

He didn’t smell of blood. No crimson aura. But perhaps, as a vampire, he could seal himself from you.

And for the briefest second, you felt scared.

He wouldn’t tell you right away if he was one… would he?

So you looked down for a moment. To your hand resting over the table.

Physical touch was like putting your hand inside the furnace.

You gulped.

“I could… try. To prove it to you.” Hesitation. The mere idea of doing it made your heart race. “Usually I… I can also feel people by touching them.”

Mr. Tepes could’ve said you didn’t need to prove anything. He could’ve said he already believed you.

But he didn’t.

He just closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, as if saying go ahead.

You took the glove from your right hand off. Awkwardly, as if suddenly you forgot how to make such a simple movement; your entire right arm went cold.

Again, hesitation.

You looked up at his face.

He had been watching you the entire time. His expression was… a bit unreadable. Inside that poorly lit space, you were under the impression that his eyes glowed faintly.

There was something strange in the air. Charged. It had nothing to do with the idea that he was, perhaps, a supernatural creature.

No, it had nothing to do with that.

“Excuse me…” you said under your breath, so quiet that he perhaps didn’t hear it.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached for his face. The only spot you could touch his skin.

When you were a mere second away from touching him, you stopped. A mere second of fear of discovering something you didn’t want to. If he was a vampire, he’d murder you right there – too far away from the manor, no one would hear your screams. What was the point of even doing it?

But deep down, you already knew there was no point.

You touched his cheek.

Tenderly. Your touch was barely even there; you were scared of burning, after all.

And yet, the moment your skin brushed his–

You gasped.

Your heart raced. Your eyes widened softly.

Mr. Tepes’ eyes on you never wavered.

Golden. You found yourself unable to break eye contact, as if he had put you in a trance.

This touch, so soft, could perhaps be seen as inappropriate – you were an engaged woman, cupping the face of another man… but still, it was but a simple touch. Why, however, did the air inside the greenhouse become so charged? So intense? It was as if you lost the ability to move, to do anything else but look back at him.

He was the one to break the silence.

“What do you feel?” His voice was but a whisper. Sent goosebumps through your body. This voice that sounded inexplicably so familiar.

“I-I…”

He stepped closer.

There was barely any space between your bodies.

The air became more charged, charged, charged, when his large gloved hand touched the right side of your waist.

A soft touch at first, that rapidly became more firm; and with that, it was as if your legs lost their strength. His other gloved hand traveled up slowly; your arm, your shoulder, the ghost of his touch making your core tremble and your lungs fail.

His other hand stopped on your neck.

“Tell me.” He was even quieter. Even deeper.

How could you answer, if you could barely breathe? If the world was but a blur except for him? If your heart felt about to explode?

“Mr. Tepes–“ You managed to stutter.

“Adrian.” His breathy correction sent another wave of goosebumps through your skin. “Tell me. I want to know.”

You did not have the ability to answer. Not with how strong the emotion flowing from him hit you. Not with how incredibly raw it was, how surprisingly so, despite the serene mask on his face at all times. Breathtakingly strong. Incomprehensibly strong.

Desire.

He kissed you.

You didn’t fight back. You didn’t try to push him away. His soft lips touched yours, and suddenly the rest of the world disappeared. Nothing mattered anymore. Perhaps nothing had ever mattered as much as in that moment.

He kissed you, and it wasn’t soft and tender like he had been acting before. It was intense, it was charged, it was explosive. Your lips seemed to melt into each others’, merge into a single thing. He tilted his head to the side, immediately deepening the kiss, as his hand held the nape of your neck. It was as if he didn’t have time to be slow at first, as if he was desperate, as if he was hungry.

That intensity was dizzying.

You didn’t mind it.

You cupped both sides of his face, reciprocating with that same intensity, feeling his long hair tickling your own face and shoulders. He was tall, so much so that as the kiss deepened, you bent back slightly; he kept your bodies glued with his firm grip on your waist. He was like a massive wall of heat and desire engulfing you, drowning you, taking your breath away. He spread fire through your veins, to every corner of your body.

Your left hand traveled to the nape of his neck, gripped the hair on his scalp – and he groaned into the kiss, sending vibrations through you, making your legs even weaker. It was hot and hot and hot and you wouldn’t be surprised if all the glass from the greenhouse steamed up with condensation.

For the briefest moment, you were aware of what adorned your ring finger: the shackle, the diamond engagement ring. Your soon to be husband was somewhere inside that manor, receiving pats on the back for the marriage, while you kissed another man in the dark.

You didn’t care.

You broke the kiss for the first time, trying to breathe for a second; he chased your lips again. And once more, as if he was unable to control himself.

“Adrian–“ you tried to call, but that seemed to cause the opposite reaction in him. He let another deep groan and suddenly you were being pushed against the table; he lifted you swiftly and made you sit over it, placing himself between your legs, kissing you incessantly, and you heard the noise of a ceramic vase falling and breaking somewhere beside you but you didn’t care.

You gripped his coat, pushed him closer, bit his plump lower lip defiantly. You did not mind when he pushed your skirt up, felt shivers and more shivers as his gloved hand caressed your thigh. Both of you were panting. Both of you thought there was too much clothing between your bodies. Both of you thought that was not enough.

Until you heard Clara out there.

That was the only thing that made you stop.

You gasped, froze in place, looked behind his shoulder. Mr. Tepes looked back as well.

“Sister, where are you?!” Her worried voice came from an approaching distance.

“Oh my God,” You gasped.

He put you on your feet again as easily as he put you on the table. He was panting, lips slightly swollen, the otherwise fair skin around it stained by your rouge.

You didn’t want him to go. It was the least thing you wanted.

But the blurred vision was disappearing. The heat. Reality came back into focus following the steps of your sister.

“W-We can’t be seen like this.” You whispered.

Adrian looked down at you.

His usual serenity was gone. He hesitated. He almost looked in pain.

But he nodded.

He took your right hand – the one without the glove – and left a tender, long kiss on your knuckles, as if to make sure you’d feel him again for one last time.

And, like that, he left through the back door.

You leaned on the table, shaking and panting for a completely different reason than from when you arrived. You stared into nothing, feeling your heart pound in your chest, hearing Clara get closer and closer.

You didn’t find out who or what exactly Mr. Tepes was. But that notion, the initial excuse you had to touch his skin, was forgotten.

Another realization filled your mind.

That kiss. His touch. His presence, his heat. It was explosive, dizzying, hot, maddening.

But it was not unfamiliar.

Almost as if a part of you was used to that. Used to his kisses the same way it was used to his voice.

The man that lived in your dreams.

You spent a lifetime foolishly waiting for that man to finally appear, even though the context of your dreams barely made sense with your current reality. But what if… what if these dreams weren’t premonitory?

What if you had already lived all of that in a distant past?

The next question you made yourself was almost as maddening as the kisses you had just shared.

What if…

What if he was that man?

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 13

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: GUESS WHO'S BACK??? omg y'all. i can't believe it's been over a month since the last update. i had to let this story cool down in my brain before picking it back up. also, just a lot of things happening at the same time in my life. thanks everyone for your patience! as usual, feedback is MUCH appreciated. enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

“Don’t scare me!”

??? looks at you with a pout and a deep frown. You roll your eyes and rest your hand on the side of your waist.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You made that noise to scare me!”

“If you keep complaining, I’ll leave you alone…”

“No!” Her scream echoes from her place at the stairs. “You know I’m scared of the dark!”

You take one more step down and groan in a very annoyed tone. “You could’ve just taken a torch from the patio if you weren’t so lazy.”

“What? You make these light balls all the time. Keep showing them off. What’s different now?”

“The difference, ???, is that your mother asked you to go down the cellar, not me. You dragged me here because you’re a lazy scaredy cat.” ??? takes one more step down. You follow her. “And it’s not a ‘light ball’, it’s a–“

“A sun sphere,” she makes a very whiny impersonation of your voice and shrugs. “Whatever.”

She’s being definitely way too annoying for someone needing help.

The sun sphere floats centimeters away from your palm. It’s not bigger than a pebble, but it’s enough to lighten the entire underground cellar. Eerie shadows are cast over the many barrels and jars that store mostly wine and ale. It always smells of wood, wet soil and grapes down here.

??? squeezes her eyes and walks deeper into the cellar. “Now, which one is it… ???, do you remember–?”

“The big one in the corner. Made of dark oak. Gods, you really know nothing.”

She turns to you with a deeper frown. “And you’re the most annoying person I know! You keep acting like that just because you can make your stupid balls of light or because you turned twelve first! No one besides you cares! Everyone says I’m cuter than you anyway!”

Your jaw drops. You tilt your head to the side. “Well, I think you care. At least I’m useful for something. All you do is braid your hair and destroy Aunt ???’s tapestries with your ugly paintings.”

??? gags; her face is now completely clouded with anger. She puts the ceramic jar she held previously on the floor and walks towards you at heavy steps, her hands tightened into fists.

“Take that back!”

Oh, that was such a grave mistake.

??? has time to see your face turn into a mischievous grin before she regrets what she was about to do.

“No–“

Too late.

You summon the sun sphere to your palm and close your hand.

The light extinguishes.

??? yells.

You run upstairs much faster than her – you were closer to the stairs since the beginning – with ??? following you shortly while screaming like a scared mouse. But you get to the top faster. You shut the door with a loud bang. You lock the heavy wooden door and lean your back on it.

You laugh while she bangs on the door, screaming and crying, until you spot Aunt ??? going down the patio to see what is happening.

You run away before she can scold you.

Juste and Alucard gathered in front of Ruby to analyze the speck of light she had just summoned.

The old Belmont hummed and held his chin, leaning down slightly to see it closer. The only way to describe what he was seeing was as a ball of light. It floated a few centimeters away from her palm obediently.

Juste stuck his finger into the ball and hummed again. It didn’t move away from his touch; his pointer finger went through it as if it weren’t even there.

“It’s not fire,” he observed with a thoughtful tone. “It even feels a little cold.”

Alucard watched him intently.

“Does it feel like Speaker magic?” the white-haired vampire asked.

“No, no. It definitely isn’t.” Juste straightened his back and rested a hand on the side of his waist. “Never seen a Speaker summon light like that.” His frown deepened. “Though it’s not really light. It’s sun, isn’t it?”

Ruby looked down at the light orb and pressed her lips.

“It’s called a sun sphere. I… think.” Her words were slow, hesitant.

“And how did you figure out you could make it?” Alucard asked.

Ruby gulped. She looked a little dazed… Juste figured she was the most shocked out of everyone at this new discovery. It was as if she didn’t even know what to do with herself.

“I had a dream. When I woke up, I just… could do it.”

“How are you summoning it?” It was Juste’s turn to ask.

“I don’t know. It’s second nature. It’s like… it’s like asking me how do I raise my arm or how do I see with my eyes.” Ruby moved her hand slightly; the sphere grew a bit larger, floating farther from her palm. “It feels as if there is a room in my mind I was not aware of. It was… locked. Hidden. Now, the door is opened and I can walk in. It was always there, I just didn’t see it.”

Juste sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

“...Yeah, I can relate to that.”

She summoned the sphere back into her palm; when she closed her hand, the sphere vanished.

Alucard crossed his arms. “So Annette was right all along. You are a witch. Your powers were just locked.”

Ruby looked down. “I’m not sure about that.” She confessed. “I also don’t know how useful this magic is other than just creating light.”

Juste chuckled dryly. “Well. It did obliterate half an army of vampires. It’d call it more than useful.”

“But that was the scepter… wasn’t it?” She definitely didn’t sound too sure of herself.

Juste wasn’t sure about that, either. He knew the scepter had some sort of magic stored in it… but what if it was just and instrument for her power, not the source of it to create such an intense spell?

The Belmont was about to make more questions – her magic was intriguing; he didn’t like the fact that he didn’t know what he was dealing with… and the thing about Belmonts is that they usually knew what the hell they were dealing with.

But he looked down at Ruby and noticed how she looked nauseous.

Alucard acted before he could.

The white-haired vampire rested his hand over her shoulder. “We should depart tomorrow morning,” he said in a calming tone. “Why don’t you get inside and have your things ready for the travel?”

Ruby looked surprised at first, then something like relief covered her features. She nodded and stepped back.

“You’re right. I’ll… see what I can do.”

She waved a small goodbye towards Juste and rushed to get into the house.

The old man sighed and crossed his arms. “Poor girl. I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.”

Alucard just looked down in response.

Paris was still noisy with repairs happening everywhere – even noisier than usual. The party last night lifted their spirits, but now it was time for the Parisians to face reality: hundreds of dead. Countless buildings destroyed. A monarchy yet to be crushed… there was much to be done.

But strangely enough, Juste felt… excited.

...Renewed? Joyful? Perhaps all of these things at once. It felt as if the veil that covered his eyes and the weight heavy on his shoulders had lifted. He felt that… maybe, Juste had found a purpose again. One that went beyond survival or killing some vampires for a few coins.

One more noble, perhaps. The one that kept the Belmont clan alive for centuries.

Talking about something being alive for centuries – Juste looked at Alucard with a quirked eyebrow.

“‘Departing tomorrow morning?’ May I ask where you’re going next?”

Alucard’s expression softened slightly, the knot between his eyebrows untied. Of course Juste was curious. He couldn’t deny that the mystique (for lack of a better word) that revolved around Alucard intrigued him. Juste spent his childhood hearing stories about the man from his father, even though the half-vampire barely spent any time with him back then.

Which was even more intriguing, in a way. Because Alucard hadn’t changed a day since Juste was fourteen. Same appearance, same voice, same… everything. It was a bit eerie how this man that looked to be around his late twenties was actually lifetimes older than him… and it was a bit eerie how this young looking man could make Juste feel like a child.

Not intentionally or in a belittling way. But Juste knew what that look meant, the slight curve up of his lips. The barely there excitement and endearment, maybe.

“We’re going to Wallachia. To the Castle… and the Belmont Hold.” There it was. Alucard knew Juste would gasp, that his eyes would widen ever so slightly. “You’ve never been there, have you?”

Indeed. Juste didn’t know exactly why his ancestors left Wallachia or why they decided to spread around Europe. He thought it wasn’t a great idea judging by how little of them still remained. Perhaps staying in the Hold would’ve been the smarter decision. But Juste wasn’t there at the time… he couldn’t judge.

Every Belmont knew about the Hold and the centuries of information, history and magic stored there. Every Belmont knew that Alucard was the official guardian of the place…

“You’re more than welcome to join us.” The vampire continued. “Richter, too, if he wishes so.”

...And it would be a lie if Juste said this invite didn’t make his heart race.

Juste was a Belmont, but he was far from knowing the glory days of his clan. He’d like to know what remained of it, how magnificent the Hold must truly be. If he said he didn’t plan this trip many times, he’d be lying. But life always had a way to drift him apart from it over and over again – because of Lydie, then because of Julia… and then, because of his inertia that lasted years.

He didn’t have any of that anymore.

And yet – once again, Juste couldn’t go.

The old man sighed and crossed his arms. “I’m honored for the invite… but I’ll have to decline. Richter decided to leave for Saint Domingue with Annette… and I just can’t leave Maria alone. At least, not now. She needs someone.”

Juste knew this better than anybody. He’d seen it up close for the past few days – her fight against the darkness within herself, the loss of her mother… the way he failed in stopping her from killing the Abbot. Juste knew she hadn’t healed from any of that yet. Maria needed guidance. Not only because she was just a child in a cruel world – Maria was a powerful magician, perhaps more powerful than anyone first assumed.

And Juste had seen that darkness in her.

That linked with magic could become a catastrophe.

Richter still hadn’t told her was leaving… Juste feared what her reaction would be. So he needed to make sure she wouldn’t feel alone. Even though, well, he wasn’t great with teenage girls.

He’d have to overcome that.

Was he doing it for Maria, for Tera, for himself or for Julia?

Did he see Julia in that short blonde girl?

Maybe.

Juste just knew he didn’t want to fail in protecting someone this time.

Alucard shrugged slightly. “The place is part yours by right anyway. You can come whenever you want.”

Juste smiled and nodded. He then quirked one eyebrow again. Talking about feeling responsible over someone…

“You took full responsibility over Ruby, huh?”

The faint smile immediately vanished from Alucard’s lips. He looked down, the knot between his brows appeared again.

“...This isn’t completely over, Juste.” His voice was quieter, as if afraid any passersby could eavesdrop. Somber. “You saw it, too. The shadow.”

Juste felt a shiver just remembering it.

He was barely awake at the time, recovering from the heavy blow Erzsebet had landed on him and Maria. He was dizzy, confused, feeling pain everywhere… but he saw it. The whirlpool of shadows surrounding Drolta’s beheaded body. The laughing thing that emerged from it.

The demon.

“That thing appeared for the Abbot, too, when he died.” Juste lowered his voice as well, caressing his beard absently. “It came to reap him.”

“He probably had a deal with this demon… and he died before accomplishing it.”

“Which means Drolta had a deal with it, too?” Juste completed his logic. “Why would a vampire so powerful fall for that?”

Alucard tilted his head to the side. Juste could almost see the gears in his mind turning relentlessly, trying to come up with new answers.

“I can’t be sure. But… they had an immortal whose blood miraculously heals in their possession for a long time.” The vampire looked at him. “This feels like something worth making a deal for. No?”

Juste widened his eyes slowly.

...That made sense. Yes, that made a lot of sense.

“Do you think she was the bargaining chip?”

Alucard shrugged. “Erzsebet drank Sekhmet’s blood to become the goddess’ vessel… and Ruby’s blood to heal herself from the process. Drolta searched for a suitable vessel for millennia. Maybe she didn’t find one. Maybe she made one that couldn’t die this time… because she had a way to heal her continuously.” Alucard held his chin in a thoughtful expression. “And it’s not only that… right after Annette managed to rip Sekhmet’s soul from Drolta’s body, Drolta tried to reach for Ruby. I’m sure she did. Why would she do something like that on the verge of death?”

“Maybe to heal herself with Ruby’s blood.” Juste guessed. “Or maybe… because she was part of the deal.”

“And Drolta knew she had to do something about Ruby to complete her part of the deal before she could be reaped.”

It’s like Juste could visualize an intricate thread form in front of his eyes as Alucard spoke. The old Belmont tapped his foot on the cobblestones floor, hummed deep in thought.

“The fact that after Drolta died, Ruby remembered how to access her magic… a non-Speaker magic that I’ve never heard of on top of that makes everything more suspicious.”

“Yes.” Alucard nodded. “I believe all the answers are with her already. We just have to find a way to open the doors to her mind. My father’s knowledge might be helpful with that.”

“Let’s be glad that Ruby is cooperative, then.”

“She wants to remember her past more than all of us.”

Juste tilted his head. “Understandable. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like… to have no memories at all.” He hesitated a few seconds before speaking again. “Which… might lead to some uncomfortable discoveries, aye? Maybe she became a part of all this willingly.”

“I doubt it. She also wanted Erzsebet and Drolta dead more than all of us.” Alucard looked down again. “But if it turns out to be true… I’ll deal with it.”

Juste eyed Alucard in silence for a while.

Could he, really?

Of course – he didn’t want to question legendary Alucard. This man had killed more vampires and fought more magicians than Juste could even count. But Juste also saw that the vampire was… attached to her to some degree. He just wasn’t sure how deep this attachment was. Would Alucard be able to deal with her if he found out she wasn’t innocent?

Because dealing with it meant to kill her.

But… well… considering what he had already done in the past…

Juste didn’t even want to think about it.

“If it comes down to this… how are you going to do it?” The Belmont was, once again, hesitant, choosing his words carefully. “From what I’ve heard, she’s like a vampire. Does she die like a vampire, too?”

Alucard tightened his eyes slowly.

“I’ve seen a night creature bite half of her body. Multiple organs pierced. Bones crushed to dust. Mass bleeding. She healed in an hour and half.” The vampire looked down at Juste, maybe to observe his astonishment. “I don’t know many vampires who could survive all that.”

Juste went silent for a while.

That… that sounded dangerously close to something mankind had been looking for since the dawn of time. What vampires wanted the most. They called themselves immortals, but they could be killed. And yet…

“That sounds like true immortality.”

Alucard nodded slowly in a grave movement.

Juste felt his stomach get heavy.

He shook his head. “But that can’t be. Anything can be killed. We just don’t know how yet… in her case.”

Alucard looked down again. There was something very dark in his eyes… very cold.

“Perhaps the only person that knew how to is already dead.”

It took Juste a few seconds to understand what he meant… could it be… Drolta…?

But he saw someone else approaching – and the topic ended right then.

It was the ginger boy, Henri, son of the Judge.

It was a bit funny how awkwardly he walked. The young lad always looked like a pile of nervousness – blushing, blinking, averting his gaze elsewhere… so much that Juste wondered how the hell did he survive past night. How was he even a soldier?

“Did you call me, Mr. Alucard?” The boy asked. He hardly could keep eye contact with neither of them.

“Yes.” The vampire crossed his arms. He narrowed his eyes at Henri; Juste could almost see the boy shrinking under his gaze, though Alucard didn’t sound much different from how he usually talked. “Did you tell anyone about what happened yesterday?”

The younger one widened his eyes slightly. He unconsciously gripped his recently healed shoulder. “N-No, sir.”

“This information could put her in great danger.” Alucard stepped closer and lowered his voice. “The only people that know about Ruby’s ability are me, Juste and you. So, if anyone comes after her… I’ll know it was you.”

Henri got pale.

It seems that even his lips lost their color.

It was a bit impressive how Alucard could threaten in such a sophisticated way. Henri looked between the vampire and the Belmont, both much taller and muscular than him – and Juste wondered for a second if he’d piss his pants.

“O-Of course, Mr. Alucard. I’d n-never put Miss Ruby in danger. This secret goes with me to the grave.”

Alucard nodded approvingly.

He then looked at Juste. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some preparations to make as well.”

The vampire took two steps.

Juste watched Henri intently. In the time Alucard took these two steps, it looked like there was a war happening inside the boy. Finally, before Alucard could leave–

“Wait!”

He turned around and looked down at Henri. The quirk of his brow was enough of a question.

Before, Henri got pale. Now, he got as red as a lobster.

The boy avoided his gaze and bowed slightly.

“I-I’d like to properly apologize, Mr. Alucard. For c-c-courting Miss Ruby. I… I didn’t know she was is your fiancée.”

It was a difficult task to take Alucard off guard – but Henri’s “apology” certainly did.

Juste looked from the tall one to the small one repeatedly. What is going on here?!

Henri coughed. “I-I did not mean any disrespect on you, sir. Or on Miss Ruby. Please, forgive me.”

There were a few seconds of silence.

Juste tried to muffle an incoming giggle. So the boy thought they’re a couple?

The tension disappeared from Alucard’s face once more. He chuckled lightly and closed his eyes for a moment, looking like he found the situation extremely funny.

He patted Henri’s shoulder softly.

And walked away.

Not a word spoken.

Now Juste was caught off guard.

He watched Alucard’s back as he distanced himself, suddenly remembering what he said yesterday night when Maria asked him what he was going to do from now on.

“I’ve been alone for many years. It seemed, on the whole, for the best. But last night, I saw people who have found something… new and precious and… maybe world-changing. They were not ready to surrender it. They would rather die. I think I’d like to see how that goes.”

And Juste got it.

The old Belmont chuckled and patted Henri’s back. The boy gasped in surprise.

“You aimed too high, lad.” Henri looked down with blush already covering his cheeks and ears. “But don’t be discouraged. Paris is full of beauties.”

He walked away too before Henri could feel even more embarrassed.

Apparently… Juste wasn’t the only one with a new motivation to live.

You should be packing.

Well. Not that you had anything to pack. The maid had kindly brought a few pieces of clothing and a bag, so it was pretty much everything you’d be able to carry with yourself – but all of these items were still scattered over the bed, untouched.

All you could do was sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the sun sphere.

Sun sphere. It’s how that little girl in the dream called.

As soon as your eyes snapped open, you just knew how to do it. It was easy, didn’t make you feel tired. Almost as it you’d known how to do that your entire life.

It was the second time in 48 hours that a dream revealed something about yourself.

You remembered how, under imprisonment, you barely ever dreamed of anything – and now suddenly whenever you closed your eyes, your mind wandered. What if that was also Erzsebet and Drolta’s work? What if Alucard was right and your memory was blocked by magic?

Maybe these weren’t dreams. Maybe these were memories.

You closed your hand, making the sun sphere vanish. So you were in fact a magician, as Annette suspected from the start… though Juste stated this wasn’t Speaker magic. Alucard had no idea of what it was either. When it came to you, it seems no one had any idea of anything ever. Which, quite honestly, was starting to be annoying. Of course – no one had to know anything, but the sheer lack of information was just infuriating.

Alucard was confident you’d find valuable information in his castle, however.

Dracula’s Castle.

It felt a bit strange how Alucard didn’t call the place his. His father could’ve built it, but as far as you knew, it had been his for hundreds of years already. Why, then, didn’t he feel like he owned it?

The idea of being there was both exciting and frightening. Dracula built the castle. He lived there. And for some reason, the mere mention of his name already brought chills. You should’ve already mentioned this strange reaction to Alucard at this point, though you still didn’t quite know how to approach the topic… but it had to be done, right? And soon. You couldn’t run away from it much longer.

What was also exciting and frightening was the idea that you’d travel with Alucard.

Alone.

You weren’t scared of him; not at all. But… Annette and Richter wouldn’t be there to divert his attention. It’d be just you and him the entire travel.

You didn’t know if you could manage your embarrassment around him.

Why were you even embarrassed in the first place? You didn’t know exactly. Maybe the fact that you were so attached to him already. That… didn’t feel very mature of you. And Alucard was so mature.

There was no way you wouldn’t be attached to him when you knew so little about the world. But… how did he feel about all this? What if you were being inconvenient in some way?

You shook your head as if to make these thoughts fly away.

“Pack. I should pack.” You mumbled under your breath before finally getting up.

Two changes of clothes, one of which you’d obviously be wearing. A black cloak. You folded everything carefully and put it inside the brown leather bag the maid provided. And finally… something else you felt brave enough to ask for.

A small notebook.

The cover was made of black leather with a thin strip to keep it closed. It was a little bigger than your hand. With care, you took the lily that the three little boys had given you and placed it inside the notebook to let it dry there.

You’d just written a few things yet. A couple of phrases. You found yourself embarrassed of writing anything remotely personal, even if you were locked inside a bedroom. Probably because you were still under the panic of being watched at all times.

But you were scared of forgetting the frail memories you had retrieved… or even the events that unfolded in the past week.

You hadn’t experienced any memory blackouts since you left imprisonment. You woke up exactly were you laid previously; you didn’t suddenly find yourself in situations and didn’t remember how they started. But there was no solid proof that it couldn’t happen again. What if you had to use the scepter again and it melted your brain? What if it caused memory loss? What if there was actually something wrong with your head that had nothing to do with magic?

So you decided to keep track of yourself in this small notebook.

You still had to find the right words. It was… difficult to organize your thoughts in text. Your handwriting wasn’t the best, either. But you had to try, regardless of how awkward it’d feel at first.

You felt the presence before you saw him.

Something cold. For a second, you thought it was a freezing breeze coming from the open window… but no. Something in your guts knew better. Was familiar with it. The sense of danger they brought, the darkness and the cold.

The presence of a vampire.

You turned around in a jump.

You thought your eyes were failing you at first. It… looked like smoke. Pitch black smoke materializing in the room, condensing at the darkest part of it, were the thick curtains were still covering the window.

That pitch black smoke took the form of a man.

Your first reaction was to grab the sun disk. Your heart raced, adrenaline heightened your senses to a ten. The door was quite far… if he launched himself at you, would you make it to the doorknob in time?

But then… you looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The unknown man was tall and muscular. He wore a luxurious purple and golden attire. His long straight black hair fell to the right side of his face. His eyes… vertical pupils and an eerie, supernatural shade of green, contrasting with his brown skin. They seemed to glow in the dark. Astute eyes. Almost as if you stood in front of a serpent quietly analyzing its prey. His beauty was mesmerizing.

And you remembered.

“...I know you.” Your voice was quiet. “You were at the Erzsebet’s chateau that morning.”

The vampire opened an almost imperceptible smirk.

“I’m surprised you remember.” His voice was also quiet; smooth as silk, with a bit of rasp on it.

“Are you one of her servants? Do you seek revenge?”

He shook his head slightly. His earrings tinkled with the movement.

“Oh, no. I’m more than pleased that the bitch is dead now.” His gaze was so penetrating that you felt your stomach drop. He measured you up and down slowly. “But… I’m curious about you.”

You still moved slowly, as if you were indeed facing a poisonous serpent. Alucard didn’t feel this man’s presence in the house… meaning he was certainly skilled in masking his presence. That was no regular vampire. In a way, he exhaled that same quiet aura of an old, powerful vampire that Alucard had as well.

He didn’t show any aggressiveness in his expression or body.

Which made you remember something else.

The day Alucard took you from the chateau… the words he said.

Now, let’s go. I’m already abusing the opportunity my associate gave me…

This man was there to see you help summon the eclipse.

“...Was it you?” He waited for you to elaborate. “It’s you who told Alucard about me?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head… almost a nod.

You straightened your back and lowered your arm slowly.

“...Thank you, sir. You saved my life.”

He seemed a bit taken aback by your sudden change in behavior.

“Nothing to thank me for. I was chasing after my own interests.”

“If your interest was to defeat Erzsebet, than I should thank you even more.”

He chuckled dryly. “You’re not what I was expecting. But… it makes sense, in the end.”

“What are you talking about?” You frowned.

“I wanted to see the person Mizrak risked his life for up close.” His eyes dropped to the sun disk in your hand. “So… it was really you.”

His last sentence went completely unnoticed. Your eyes widened.

“Mizrak?! Do you know Mizrak?” You took one step closer to him. “Is he alive? Is he okay?!”

The scene of Mizrak being stabbed in the stomach didn’t leave your mind. The amount of blood that flowed from the wound, the way he pushed you inside the cathedral… and how he simply disappeared after everything. Both Alucard and Juste tried to find him, asking in several medical posts (the improvised spots where the wounded in battle were being treated) if they’d seen him, but no one received a man with the same description.

You wouldn’t have reached Notre Dame without him. The idea that he could’ve simply died was agonizing.

The vampire quirked an eyebrow softly at your inquires. “...He’s still not well. But he’ll be.”

A side of you was immediately worried for Mizrak’s life. After all… this man could’ve helped you, but he still was a vampire – and you didn’t trust vampires. But there was something in the way his serpent eyes softened almost imperceptibly at the mention of Mizrak that made you… calm down about his safety.

You tightened your eyes at him.

“What’s your curiosity about me?”

The vampire watched you in silence for some seconds.

It was unsettling how you had no clue of what was going through his mind. The ghost of a smirk stayed there… almost in a mocking way. You wondered it you really should stop worrying. You wondered if it wouldn’t be a good idea to reach for the doorknob and scream…

But his eyes dropped from your face.

They lingered somewhere lower.

Your chest. The left side of it.

And… and it seemed he was seeing something you couldn’t. Something that made his vertical pupils dilate slightly.

Finally he looked at your face again.

Opened a lip tightened smile.

“Don’t bother, my dear. I already found out.” You watched as his body started to dissipate again in a shapeless black cloud. “Farewell.”

And just like that – he was gone.

You hadn’t realized you weren’t breathing properly.

You turned around and opened the door in a rush. What the hell just happened?! Who was that man? What did he mean? What if he was dangerous? What if he was still around? Why didn’t anyone else feel his presence?! You ran down the corridor, feeling adrenaline kick in again. The stranger saved your life… and didn’t seem aggressive. But that could mean nothing.

Alucard’s room was the last. The door was partially opened, so you just stormed in–

And froze.

Alucard was in the room.

...Laying on the sofa. Asleep.

His chest moved slowly. He was too tall for it… so one of his legs was over the sofa arm, while his other feet touched the floor. His neck was in an uncomfortable position. By the way his sword was leaning on the sofa and he had a small book over his chest… he didn’t plan to sleep there.

Your entire will to warn him ended right then.

From the moment you met him… the travel from Machecoul to Juste’s cottage, then all the way down the river towards Paris… Alucard didn’t sleep once. Richter and Annette took turns on who got to sleep. You even managed to sleep some hours at the atelier.

Alucard didn’t.

He’d been awake for days straight.

How could you simply wake him up now that he finally relaxed, even if by accident?

You stood by the door for some seconds. His long wavy hair fell over his shoulders and the sofa arm like a cascade of threads made with moonlight itself. You’d never seen him so… tranquil. No knot between his brows, lips completely relaxed. It made him look younger, in a way.

Slowly, you stepped back and closed the door, afraid to make any noise.

That could wait.

A/N: SO!! after over a month i know yall were expecting dracula's castle already or hot steamy sex!! BUT!! this is a transition chapter and it had to happen before we get to the next part!! it'll all be worth it later TRUST 🙏 what i will tell you is that one of the reasons why this ch took so long is that i REALLY wanted to write what comes next, but this one had to come first. and it kinda pissed me off, so instead of, you know, getting this over with, i just laid in bed and fantasized about the parts i ACTUALLY wanted to write. which means i am motivated to write again bc i'm getting to the parts i wanted. i don't even know if what i just said makes sense lmao but ANYWAYS!! trust the process!! 🙏

[zorostitties]

Intertwined; 4

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child's heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 11k oof

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!! A little something I haven't explained yet - this story will be divided in 4 sections/parts. Part 1 which covered their childhood ends with this chapter. So next chapter, we're setting sail to pre timeskip times... where love will actually start blossoming 🤭 Also, I finally made a playlist for Intertwined!! I listen to these songs a lot while writing. I know these songs might be too upbeat or random considering how fucked up MC's life is all the time, but I couldn't make a SAD playlist for a fic involving mr. JOYboy himself 😭 Anyways!! Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

➛ 11

You were eleven years old the first time you almost died during a commission.

The target was the leader of a criminal organization. They weren’t too well known, or too respected, or too powerful, but had caused enough trouble that someone was willing to commission his death. Boss Hamazaki was his name. He wasn’t a fighter. He didn’t have a Devil Fruit ability or any combat skills.

But he had bodyguards.

And you underestimated them.

That was a deadly mistake. Up until then, you hadn’t really struggled; your targets were like Boss Hamazaki, had no significant skills. You’d usually camp around them for a while, wait until they were alone, strike too fast for them to understand what was happening… and flee with a guaranteed payment. Truth is – you were an assassin, not a fighter. Not yet.

So when one of his bodyguards noticed your presence and stormed into the room…

Well.

Oops.

You got shot.

You had time to move slightly away from the trajectory of the bullet, but not fast enough to completely miss it. The projectile pierced your stomach. Adrenaline assured you to not feel immediate pain when it hit, so you managed to get a certified kill anyway. But… yeah. It hurt a lot. And bled. And you’d definitely had passed away if Landon wasn’t around to proceed with the first aids.

It sucked. Not because of, you know, the fact that you almost died – but because you didn’t remember seeing Crowley get seriously injured like that. Which meant he had an advantage over you.

And you hated it.

Competition within the family was highly stimulated. It was part of the tradition after all. The better assassin got a bigger percentage of the payments, more prestige, more privileges… and at the end, the better assassin would become the head of the family. The one to command Scarpia’s future and businesses wasn’t the oldest, but the best.

It made a lot of sense, since Urso – the oldest – was a useless. He had no ambition at all; to make him the head of the family would be an abysmal mistake.

So it was up to the rest of you to fight for more recognition.

Except… the fact that you were betrothed to Vinsmoke Ichiji already excluded you from the game, since you’d leave the family sooner or later; you’d have to carry your future husband’s last name.

Or, at least, Crowley thought so. He concluded that you were no competition – which meant you’d have to prove him wrong again, and again, and again, as many times as necessary, until he’d finally shut the fuck up.

The shot sent you a few points back in the board, though. It made you so angry at yourself that you couldn’t even turn that half of your brain off.

It was unbearably hot for some reason – and you should already be used to the heat and humidity of Mt. Colubo’s forest, but sometimes it was still too much. You sat on a big chopped log with your legs crossed under the shadow of a tall tree, scribbling furiously and biting the inside of your cheek. How could you better Crowley? What was his main technique at the moment? What was his best skill? What was his current kill count?

Luffy’s screams and grunts of effort were just background noise.

“Gomu Gomu no… Pistol!!”

God. How many times had he repeated that? You lifted your eyes momentarily to watch Luffy stretch his arm and try to punch a boulder approximately ten meters away from where he stood – but, as you had noticed, he didn’t quite control the stretching of his members. It seemed that they had a tension limit, like a regular rubber band. It made you wonder for a moment how far Luffy could stretch without ripping off…

Luffy fell back on the grass and groaned. He took two seconds to get up again and get in position again, eyes tightened.

“Gomu Gomu no…”

“Pistooool,” you said absently under your breath with him, with much less excitement. Your eyes glued back to the sketchbook on your lap. The snapping sound and his loud groan indicated he had failed again.

You already knew what was coming before he even did it.

“Heeeey! Four Eyes, you’re being boring! Get up and come train with me!”

You didn’t bother looking up.

“I already said I can’t move that much.”

It wasn’t a lie. It had been a month since the shot; you were still in the process of recovery. Usually, the Scarpia children wouldn’t have this much time to get a full recovery… but your parents wanted to be sure that you’d always be the healthiest so you could reproduce in the future.

Ew.

Luffy was crouched down in front of you in a second.

He pouted angrily. He was covered in sweat, the hem of his yellow tank top was drenched. Luffy didn’t look tired despite the fact he’d been training his attack since early in the morning.

“Boooo. Weakling. You’re a weakling, that’s what you are.” He poked your sides and your arms and your cheek repeatedly to call your attention. “Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Who the hell gets hurt like that? You’re just being dramatic.”

“If you poke me again I’ll crack your skull open.”

“Weeeeak.”

He tried to stick his finger in your nostril.

You flipped.

And then Luffy was running away from you, laughing hysterically, while you chased him around the forest with fire steaming from your eyes.

Luffy always got what he wanted one way or another – usually by being terribly annoying. The fact that you fell for it too was a bit embarrassing… but you ended up having fun anyway, so most times you let it slide. Not always though. He tried to stick his finger in your nose. He had to pay.

That is – until an agonizing twinge in your stomach made you halt.

You groaned, gripping your shirt, and leaned on a tree. Crap, I shouldn’t have moved so much.

The sound of Luffy’s sandals skidding on dirt floor echoed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Taptaptaptaptap. He ran back to where you were.

“Hey– what happened?!”

“I told you that I’m hurt,” you said between gritted teeth.

“Eh… Hm…”

It looked like Luffy didn’t really know what to do at first, and he showed a rare expression: guilt. The straw hat boy put your arm over his shoulders and helped you walk back to that log you were sitting previously.

“D’you need something? D’you want water? You wanna eat? There’s bananas there– I can grab some–“

“N-No. I’ll be fine.” But damn, that hurt real bad. It seemed that your guts were rearranging in a strange way.

You were probably making a funny expression, because Luffy was starting to get pale.

“No, you’re not okay. Stay right here, aight? I’ll– I’ll call Ace–“

You grabbed his wrist firmly.

“I said I’ll be fine.” You grunted again.

You closed your eyes momentarily.

Luffy watched you in silence – which was a bit of a miracle.

The pain. The pain.

That place in your stomach. On the left side.

Does it have anything to do with the shot?

No. It’s the abdomen. It’s the muscle. Muscle strain. Hurts bad. But not serious.

So stop aching. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Your features softened. The pain was gone.

You took a deep breath and stretched your arms.

When you opened your eyes, Luffy was staring at you… very confused.

“So, uh… what just happened here?”

“I got better.”

“...I’m not that smart, but I don’t think that’s how things work.” He scratched his head. “You just made the pain go away?”

“Kinda.”

“How?”

Oops.

You weren’t supposed to tell him that.

Scarpia secret training. All that bullshit. You were so used to this technique that it didn’t even feel like a technique anymore; one of the earliest teachings, something each of you were trained to do the moment you learned to walk. You sincerely forgot this wasn’t normal… and most importantly, you forgot this was secret.

But Luffy already knew your secrets… so who cared?

You held your chin and tightened your eyes at him.

“...I think it’d be useful for you, to be honest. You don’t really control your stretching, do you?”

Luffy sat on the grass and crossed his legs. It was a bit funny, how you were sitting on the log and him on the ground, almost like a teacher and a student. It was also a bit strange how interested he got. Despite his never ending playfulness, Luffy took his training seriously.

“I control it. Until I don’t.” He grabbed his own pointer finger and stretched it until the tension limit, as if to illustrate. “How can this thing be useful?”

You hesitated for a moment. Your father’s voice echoed in your mind… The true jewel of the Scarpia family is our training. That is our advantage against the world, and that is why it must be excelled and kept in secret–

Ugh. Shut up. I don’t caaaaare.

“In my family, we call it Heavenly Control.” You started in a quiet voice. Again, unexpectedly, Luffy was paying attention. Had he ever sat down and payed attention in silence to anything before? “Like the name says… it’s the ability to be in absolute control over every layer of your body. Blood, muscle, bones… even feelings. You always know what’s going on inside of you, you’re always aware, therefore you can control it. And… you can get some results… like this.”

You made your nails grow and sharpen like blades.

Luffy’s eyes widened.

“Woooooah! That’s sick! I thought you weren’t a Devil Fruit user!”

“I’m not. It’s Heavenly Con– were you even paying attention to what I just said?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his hand dismissively. “So you can sharpen nails and make pain go away. How could this help me?”

“If you had absolute control over your body, you could stretch however you wanted. Even longer than you do now. Past the tension limit.”

“Past the what?”

“Past this.” You pinched his cheek and pulled it. Luffy groaned. You pulled and pulled and pulled until the skin visibly strained and you had to let go with a loud snap.

“Oooh.” He said while caressing his cheek.

“Also, it can be useful in battle. You can turn your emotions off to fight better.”

Luffy frowned and crossed his arms. “Uh… why would I do that?”

“Because it’s useful?”

“But it’s not fun.” He opened a mischievous smile. “When I find a strong beast, it’s fun to feel your heart pumping and your legs getting cold. It’s the best part!”

Oh.

You never thought of things this way. But, well… Luffy didn’t fight for money. When you had millions of berries at stake, you didn’t have time to have fun like that.

Luffy rubbed his hands excitedly. “But this sounds cool! How do I learn it?”

It was your turn to scratch your head hesitantly. “...I don’t know if you’ll want to learn it. Involves a lot of meditation.”

“And how’s it?”

“You sit still for a loooong time.”

Luffy scowled as if he had sucked on a very sour lemon. “Boooring.”

“Yeah.”

“But there’s no other way, right? So, come on! Teach me.” He punched his own palm and opened a determined smile. “I have to become stronger!”

There it was again. The way Luffy managed to surprise you. He hated anything boring, he despised being still in the same spot for more than two minutes… but he took his training seriously. More than anyone you knew. More than you, even.

It made you want to help him.

You smiled.

“Okay. But I don’t wanna hear complaints, got it?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Let’s go!”

He did, in fact, complain a lot.

Not that you weren’t expecting him not to. He, in fact, seemed unable to sit still for more than five minutes. Anything and everything caught his attention – a bug, the wind, a leaf, a fart that would therefore break your focus and you’d have to smack him while he giggled.

You taught him the basis of the technique. Three days you had – and three days you spent trying to teach him to the farthest length of your patience. To be fair, there were moments when he actually seemed focused in the meditation process… the longest he stayed still was ten minutes. A miracle!

There’s no way he’d learn everything in three days, of course. Heavenly Control could take years to be mastered. You only did it so easily because you had been trained to do it at a very, very young age.

It was the last day of your stay when you learned once and for all that Luffy was not normal.

Not that you didn’t know it already to some extent. He wasn’t a normal boy. He lived in the woods being raised by a group of criminals. He killed giant beasts for dinner. Him and his brother invaded High Town weekly to steal and fight adults just because it was fun. No, Luffy was not a normal boy.

But you hadn’t noticed his true abnormality until that afternoon.

Luffy was training as always. You sat on that same log and made a last sketch before leaving – a green ladybug! –; the tiny insect walked slowly on the edge of the page. You did your best to not disturb it so it wouldn’t fly away.

Luffy screamed the name of his attack as always.

You decided to lift your gaze to him for some reason. Luffy rotated his right arm many times, his fist tightened.

“Gomu Gomu no…”

He took impulse and launched his arm.

“...Pistoool!”

It stretched. And stretched. And stretched.

Your eyes widened slowly.

It stretched more.

It stretched past the tension limit.

His fist hit the boulder this time – it didn’t destroy it, just cracking the tip of the rock. But that was the least of it.

His arm retracted with a sonorous snap. Luffy grinned and jumped.

“Yahoooo! I did it! Did you see that, Four Eyes?! I did it!”

Your jaw was on the floor.

To Luffy, he had just landed a punch on a target he wanted.

But you understood the gravity of what had just happened.

A target approximately ten meters away from where he stood. A distance he couldn’t reach only a few days before. A stretch he couldn’t quite control then.

He did it now – and it wasn’t a strike of luck. It had intent. It was a calculated blow. It… It was controlled.

Luffy mastered a secret technique from the Scarpia Family in three days without even practicing much. A technique you took years to truly master.

That afternoon, you saw the shadow of what Luffy was going to become for the first time.

I’m gonna be the King of the Pirates. I’ll be the most free. I’ll find the One Piece.

He repeated that over and over and over again. Any adult would judge it as the delusions of a kid that dreamed too much. And… well, at first, you thought he was being delusional too. You knew the seas; you belonged to the New World. Millions and millions set sail in the hopes of finding the One Piece. How many failed? How many had their hopes ruthlessly crushed when they crossed the Red Line and realized that they were just grains of sand against true pirates? How many didn’t have the will to continue? To persist?

But Luffy was there. Laughing and doing cartwheels to celebrate. The boy from the middle of nowhere who just mastered Heavenly Control without much effort in three days.

Luffy was going to become a beast.

You knew it.

You believed in it.

You mirrored his smile and clapped, making Luffy’s chest fill with pride. Your friend’s future was going to be wonderful.

You couldn’t wait to witness it.

➛ 12

You needed a weapon.

It’s something you didn’t think you’d need. Your own body and strikes were enough since you started your career. Sure, you received formal training on many types of weapons: swords (though they weren’t really your thing), daggers (these were useful sometimes), guns (not really your style)… you liked to work with your bare hands, however.

This opinion changed drastically over the past year.

Your commissions weren’t that easy anymore. Your success rate was still 100%. Which meant your prestige was increasing. Which meant your percentage in payments increased, too. Which meant commissioners were starting to book you specifically.

The White Wolf is how you were being called by some.

Which meant you were being assigned with less commissions, but more difficult targets.

Actual fighters. Devil Fruit users. Just attacking them by surprise wasn’t enough. They could defend themselves and fight back.

Just your body wouldn’t do; even Heavenly Control and its hardening technique wasn’t enough. You were still too short and too weak against adults that actually knew how to fight.

So, yeah. You needed a weapon. But which?

The Scarpia arsenal was a gigantic bunker with every weapon one could think of – all pristine clean, being kept inside glass cases, perfectly organized, not a grain of dust in sight. Swords. Sabers. Katanas. Spears. Daggers. Guns. Cannons. New model weapons stolen directly from Marineford. Paradise for people in the wrong side of life.

None of that interested you.

The twins fought with daggers. Saqr was becoming a sniper – and a good one at that. Crowley chose a scythe as his weapon (soooo edgy and forced, oh my God). Urso used brass knuckles.

What weapon could be useful to you?

One that could be used for both melee and ranged combat. You weren’t that tall compared to your brothers; you needed something that could be protective as well… but also fast. What could fulfill all of those needs?

To protect and attack… Close and distant… Fast and light…

Hmm…

...You thought of Luffy for some reason.

His stretching. The way he could whip his limbs around. He could fight from close up or from a distance.

...Oh.

You took a tiny Den Den Mushi from inside your jacket and dialed.

“Yes, Young Mistress?” Landon’s voice answered promptly.

“I need a chain prototype. Make it with Seastone. As light and thin as possible.”

“How many meters?”

“Let’s start with three.”

“As you wish, Young Mistress.”

It took four prototypes to get to the perfect weapon.

The chain was light; only four centimeters in diameter, but that was thick enough to actually hurt when a blow successfully hit. Forged in a mix of Seastone and iron: the iron for malleability, the Seastone for hardness. At the tip of the chain, there was a spiked ball the size of an apple to add weight and balance. It was a shiny silver because you liked pristine things.

It took a week to master its use.

You swung the chain around like a whip. Each fast whiplash was a guaranteed wound. You could swirl the chain around your body and it’d act as a shield, rebounding any projectile or attack. The spiked Seastone ball could be used for heavier blows. You had already learned how to wrap it around objects to pull them, to use each end in different situations. And you could just wrap it around your hip to make it a cute belt when you weren’t using it.

Just perfect.

You cleaned the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, recovering your breath. Chunks of destroyed training dolls were scattered over the entire floor. You looked down at the chain resting in your hands; now, they’d have to be covered in gloves all the time to avoid bruises. Yes, this prototype was perfect. So easy to use, so durable… the engineers did a great job.

You noticed Saqr and Crowley giving quick glances at you. You loathed the fact that they were training at the same time, though all of you refused to talk to each other. You knew they were assessing your abilities, probably finding ways to defeat you. But… you also knew that they had already admitted to themselves that this weapon was very effective, otherwise they would’ve mocked already.

The heavy doors of the bunker opened behind you.

It’s funny how you recognized your father’s presence without even seeing him. He was silent. His steps never made any sound regardless of how heavy or tall he was. And yet, whenever he entered the same space as you, immediate chills would run your spine.

You turned around and straightened your back. Saqr and Crowley did as well.

“Father.”

He walked straight towards you with his hands behind his back. His suit, always perfectly ironed. His beard, always flawlessly trimmed. His expression… always blank.

Drachen looked at the destroyed dolls on the floor. The chain in your hands.

For a second, you thought he’d mention your efforts. Your new weapon. Your progress. A compliment would be too much… a simple acknowledgment would be enough. A hint that what you did was being seen.

What left his mouth wasn’t disapproval either – and yet, it was so abysmal that you’d rather have him cuss you out.

“Did you have your first period?”

You froze.

It was like someone dropped ten tons over your shoulders. You felt pressure from all sides, crushing your body as if you were in the depths of the sea. Your face and neck burned.

Why… How…?

Three days ago.

You woke up to see blood in your panties. It’s not like you didn’t know what that was; and yet, it felt strange. It felt disgusting. It felt embarrassing. You didn’t tell your mother because you thought she wouldn’t care. You asked your maid for a pack of pads, but you were too embarrassed to ask her how to use it, though you quickly found out by yourself. You used Heavenly Control to try to ignore the cramps. You tried not to walk like a penguin every time you felt the awful sensation of a liquid dripping from your insides with no control over it. You obsessed over your hygiene, scared that anyone else could feel the smell of that.

It was all new and strange and so so gross.

Why is he asking me about that?!

How did he even know? The maid told him? But– But why him? He was your father. He was a man. You didn’t have the courage to tell mother about it; you could barely look at that maid in the eye. So… why was he…?! Of all people?!

In front of Saqr and Crowley?!

You couldn’t look at him anymore.

You just nodded.

Drachen crossed his arms.

“Go see the doctor today. We need to know if your reproductive system is healthy. Vinsmoke Judge wants reports on your health.” Silence. “Did I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, father.”

He nodded, turned around and left.

You just… stood there.

It’s like your body suddenly weighed too much to be moved. Like your ears were muffled.

You looked down at the chain, the weapon you had mastered so fast. The weapon you were proud of.

It was all useless in the end, wasn’t it?

Every effort. Every successful commission. Every training.

All that mattered was if your ovaries and uterus were working.

Your brothers were laughing hysterically.

They found a quick way to defeat you, after all.

➛ 13

Luffy’s straw hat didn’t look too big for his head anymore.

And he didn’t sound like a baby duck anymore, either. Which was… weird. Every time you visited, you could pin point the differences in his and Ace’s appearances, since people can change a lot in a whole year. Ace looked completely different from the boy you met five years ago. Well, he didn’t look like a boy, quite frankly. He got super tall of sudden. And muscular. And his voice got deep. And… well, he wasn’t a prick anymore, which was nice. He got used – unbothered – by your presence on your third visit (thank God; you were already so emotionally wrecked due to the engagement back then, if he decided to be an asshole, you’d have killed him).

Luffy still looked like a boy. But he was… changing.

He still was a solid five centimeters shorter than you, though, which made you happy for some reason.

You looked at him from over the sketchbook and sent him a challenging smile. “I’m almost finished!”

Luffy bit his tongue, his brows furrowed in a focused expression, while he scribbled something in his own piece of paper. “I’m almost finished, too!”

He was obviously lying.

Luffy always repeated that your drawings were good, but his were sooo much better – though he had never showed any. So you decided to challenge him: you’d have to sketch each other in five minutes. The best drawing would win. You sat in front of each other with a sketchbook over each other’s legs.

You still had a minute. The pencil slipped rapidly over the sheet to complete the details in his hair. The black strands of hair looked a little longer than the last time you saw him. Was it on purpose, or he just forgot to cut his hair? Could very well be the latter. His face… it wasn’t that round anymore, either. His chin looked more pointed. His cheeks, less chubby; his collarbones, more prominent.

You just had to add the scar under his left eye and you’d be done. You peeked at him one last time.

He was biting the tip of his pencil in a focused expression while analyzing his own sketch.

And for the first time in your life, a word popped up in your head.

Cute.

Your eyes immediately darted down again.

Woah woah woah. What the hell?!

The watch on your wrist marked the fifth minute.

“Time’s up!” You yelled. “Drop your pencil!”

Your heart racing is just because you’re excited about the competition. That’s all. Yeah.

“I’m sooo sure mine is better than yours.” Luffy grinned mischievously. “Ace! C’mere!”

The oldest brother appeared from around the corner, absently munching an apple. His hair was a mess. Had he been sleeping the whole afternoon?

“Y’all done?” He asked with little interest.

“Yeah. Be our judge.” You said, holding the sketchbook against your chest. “Me first. Ready?”

You turned the sketchbook around – and it was satisfying to see their jaws drop. Even disinterested Ace.

“It looks great!” Luffy exclaimed. Yeah, of course it did – even if you only had five minutes. A very realistic portrait of him.

“Yo, can you draw me like that later?” Ace asked with his mouth full.

“For a grand.” He gasped and frowned.

“Mercenary.”

“Alright, alright. My turn!” Luffy smiled and straightened his back. “Get ready!”

He showed his paper sheet proudly.

You and Ace stared at it in silence for some seconds. Then–

Ace cackled.

“What the–?!” You looked from the paper to his face angrily. “It doesn’t look like me!”

“’Course it does! It’s exactly like you!”

You almost couldn’t believe that.

Luffy drew a dog with round glasses and a skirt. Or it looked like a dog, but it was supposed to be a wolf… drew by a five year old. This? Seriously? And he kept bragging of how much better of an artist he was?!

Ace patted Luffy’s back while still laughing. “You won, Luffy!”

“How?! That’s not fair! You’re just saying that because he’s your brother!”

“Just accept defeat already, Four Eyes.” Luffy giggled mischievously. “I draw muuuch better than you.”

You wanted to punch the both of them.

Why did you even bother?

You already knew the forest well at that point.

It was funny, because you only visited once a year for a few days… but these trees, these trails were already so familiar. They felt like home much more than your actual home… though, being honest, you didn’t really have a home by then – not one that felt like it.

You avoided being at the Scarpia Island as much as possible. The family had many houses and hiding places around the world. You purposefully decided to stay as close to the East Blue as possible when you weren’t working, away from the New World, especially during the months that preceded your birthday; that way, you’d make it to Goa Island quicker. The rest of the year… you’d still avoid Scarpia Island like the plague. There was no reason to stay there if you didn’t have to be there.

Sometimes, you thought of maybe making Goa Island your own hiding place so you’d have an excuse to visit more often. But… no, that’d be too risky. Would put too many question marks over the place. Goa was far from anywhere important. They’d start asking why would you chose to be there. And Landon… he never left you alone for a second. He’d report back to your parents the second he found out about your friends.

So… this was as far as you could go – even if you felt that a week wasn’t nearly enough.

How many sketchbooks had you already filled? Pages and pages of insects, animals and even some plants. Goa Island always had something interesting to offer. It felt as if you could spend a lifetime there and it wouldn’t be enough to capture all of its beauty. They even had this strange bee species that you didn’t find in your Insect Encyclopedia. Maybe your book was outdated? Or have you discovered a new bee species–?

“Ooooi, Wolfie!”

You frowned and looked up.

As Luffy was taking a nap, you decided to wander into the forest alone to see if the beehive was still in the same place you found last time. Coincidentally, the beehive was near an area you usually avoided since that thing happened years ago.

So it was definitely surprising to look up and see Ace waving at you from the tree house he forbid you from getting near.

Huh… why was he waving? Was he rubbing in your face that you couldn’t climb up?

“Ain’t you curious to know what the view looks like?!”

You stared up in shock.

“...You serious?!”

“Of course I’m serious.” It didn’t look like he was trying to prank you. He gesticulated in a welcoming way. “Come up!”

He didn’t need to say it twice.

You immediately ran to climb the stairs. They looked pretty unsafe, but you didn’t care. Oh, it was impossible to not feel all giddy. If you said you had no interest in seeing it you’d be lying; you even thought of visiting the place in secret, but that’d just be rude.

After meters and meters of climbing one of Mt. Colubo’s giant trees, you were finally there.

The structure was circular, completely made of wood. Lime already covered part of the walls and roof; there were some holes on the floor. The wooden boards creaked beneath your feet. By the height of the ceiling, it was clearly made for kids – Ace had to lower his head to stand there. He leaned on the “balcony” with a relaxed expression; wind played with his dark locks.

You approached him. There was an old wooden helm by his side. You absently rolled it.

“You guys built it all by yourselves?”

“Yeah.” Ace looked ahead to the landscape. “Luffy, Sabo and I.”

Your stomach felt a little cold. Luffy almost never mentioned Sabo; you’d never heard Ace talk about their deceased brother until that moment.

That felt strangely special.

You leaned on the balcony beside him as well. The view was breathtaking; you could almost see the sea by that point.

“It’s pretty impressive.” You rested your cheek on your palm and quirked an eyebrow jokingly. “Why’d you invite me up here? Gonna confess your feelings or something?”

Ace chuckled. “Kids ain’t my type.” You stuck your tongue out, to which he just rolled his eyes in response before looking ahead again.

“I won’t be here when you come back next year.”

That took you by surprise.

Oh… you remembered. Luffy talked about it before; how he’d set sail at seventeen years old… and Ace was sixteen.

Surprisingly – the idea of not seeing Ace’s annoying older brother face made you feel a bit sad.

“So… you invited me here to make a last sweet memory?”

“Oh, God. Shut up.” He punched your arm jokingly, making you giggle. “And it’s not like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll probably end up bumping into you in the New World.”

You stared at him in silence.

He stared back.

“Luffy told you.”

“ ’Course he told me.”

You cussed him under your breath while Ace laughed. That stupid bigmouth!

“What’d you expect? Telling Luffy a secret is like giving bananas to a monkey and expecting it to not eat them.” Yeah, but he didn’t tell me your secret, a bitter voice in your head groaned. “Also… you were never really normal, Wolfie. It wasn’t that hard to guess there was something sketchy about you.” He patted your back. “But relax, I actually won’t tell anyone your little secret.”

You avoided his gaze for a moment. “So… you don’t care? About what I do?”

Ace shrugged. “None of my business what you do.”

Like Luffy, Ace’s reaction to your true background was nonexistent. Yeah. Both of them were coo coo crazy.

He closed his hand in a fist and rested his chin on it; his expression got a little more serious. After some seconds of silence, he spoke again in a softer voice: “...You know, Luffy is an outgoing guy, but he doesn’t have a lot of close friends. It might sound obvious, but… it’d be cool if you keep showing up… so he doesn’t feel that lonely without me.”

So… that was the reason. Yes, his “request” was a bit obvious, since you’d keep showing up anyway. But it made you feel funny. Maybe because you were reminded once again that, despite Ace’s hard exterior, he was a good older brother. And because as much as you’d deny it to yourself… deep down you felt jealous of what they had.

You massaged the back of your neck sheepishly. “Well… I only visit once a year for a few days. Does it even make that much of a difference?”

Ace scoffed. “Of course it does. Luffy counts the days for your visit every year. And he doesn’t even know how to count that well.”

Oh.

...That made you feel funny again. In a different way. In a weird way.

You avoided Ace’s gaze, looking down for a second.

He was already watching you when you looked up at him again.

He had a… strange, tiny smile in his lips. A bit mischievous, maybe?

No.

A bit knowing.

“...You have no idea, do you?”

You frowned.

“What?”

Ace chuckled again. He put both hands in the pockets of his shorts and started walking away.

“You should see the crow’s nest. The view up there is even better.”

“Wait– What are you talking about? Ace? Ace?!”

He just walked away, laughing and shaking his head slowly.

➛ 14

“Hey, hey, d’you see that?! Ace already has a crew! And a bounty!”

It was impossible not to see, as Luffy was pretty much shoving the newspaper in your face. You tried to smile with your mouth full of rice. Just the fact that Luffy was doing anything else other than eating the entire table during lunch was very shocking.

“Luffy, let her eat in peace,” Magura scolded, but he didn’t seem angry at all, a small smile never leaving his lips.

“I’m sick of you saying the same thing over and over. We all saw the newspaper!” Dadan groaned under her breath, to which Luffy just stuck his tongue out in response.

You couldn’t help but just smile at Luffy’s enthusiasm, even though you already knew about Ace’s adventures before you even arrived. He was making a lot of noise… albeit his bounty was still a humble 50 million. It was a bit strange to see his face plastered over a wanted poster and to know the entire East Blue probably already knew his name. Had he already entered the Grand Line, you wondered?

You eyed Dadan. The redhead woman showed a tough exterior as usual, but you didn’t see genuine annoyance in her eyes… much the opposite.

“Did Luffy cry a lot when Ace left?” You asked her jokingly.

“Hey! I didn’t cry!”

Dogura giggled and side eyed you. “Luffy didn’t cry-nii… But Dadan–“

She punched him in the head.

“Shut up! Where’s the respect?!”

She blushed furiously.

You swallowed your laughter along with the rice, afraid of being punched by her, too.

Mt. Colubo without Ace felt… weird.

Of course, you were happy that your friend was achieving his dream. Just like Luffy, Goa Island would never be big enough for Ace. And yet, his absence was noticeable at all times, something you just couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t there to make sarcastic comments, punch Luffy or laugh at you…

It felt empty.

And it was a bit sad to realize that if you were feeling like that, Luffy was feeling it tenfold worse.

He didn’t shut up. Not that he was someone to shut up on a normal basis, but now? The straw hat boy talked nonstop. He wasn’t even someone to talk too much about the past, yet you caught yourself listening to him babble about everything that happened in the weeks before Ace’s departure and everything he’d been up to since. Luffy wasn’t even focused on his training as he used to. He followed you around like a shadow. You wondered if his throat was dry from talking so much.

Ace’s request made much more sense now.

You were used to loneliness. You even learned to enjoy it to some extent. Luffy… wasn’t. More than that – he obviously hated it. So you could see why it was so tough for him being alone for the first time. Of course, Dadan Family was right there; he could go down to Foosha to see Makino whenever he wanted. But it wasn’t the same, was it?

So when Luffy dragged you to their tree house, you just accepted it. You didn’t make questions. You knew it was his little way of feeling close to his brother somehow.

Did it piss you off when a storm fell and there was no way of going back to spend the night on a warm bed? Definitely.

But you resigned yourself to not complaining out loud.

“We used to live here, you know?” His voice came from some corner, though you were too focused on trying to patch a leak on the ceiling to look back. The ceiling was so short that you didn’t need to stand on anything to reach it. “For a while.”

You gulped. By we, he was talking about Sabo as well. There was always a strange knot in your stomach in the rare moments Luffy mentioned him.

“Seems like a fun place for a bunch of kids to live in.”

Luffy giggled. “Yeah.”

His silence meant he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

You finished the patch and turned around.

Luffy had brought two thin mattresses, pillows and rags as covers. They were visibly very old, probably hadn’t been used in a long time… and kid sized. He placed them side by side and sat over his with crossed legs.

You sat in front of him.

The rain was loud out there. Luckily, it wasn’t followed by wind, so it wasn’t that wet inside the tree house. Kinda. The only source of light was your small lantern on the floor beside you two. It cast weird shadows on Luffy’s face.

He became… quiet all of sudden. He took his hat off and tried to scratch a stain from the red strip with his thumb. Shoulders dropped, head hung low.

Luffy looked less and less like a boy.

There was something a bit uncanny in seeing him so serious.

You crossed your arms and coughed. “What d’you wanna do? I got a deck of cards in my bag. We could play a game.”

Luffy pouted. “I’m not that great with card games.”

“You could learn.”

“You don’t have that much patience to teach.”

Bullseye.

“Uh… what about a guessing game?” Luffy didn’t answer, still focused on his hat. Weird weird weird. That’s so not him. I’m typically the one to be silent. Honestly, I’d rather hear him talk nonstop like he was doing before than this. “So what? We just gonna sit here and stare at each other?”

“It’s funny to see you try to cheer me up. Usually it’s the other way around.”

You were taken aback.

...Bullseye. Again.

Luffy had these moments sometimes when he blurted out stuff that showed he was not dense, even though he seemed to be. In fact, he payed a lot of attention to a lot of things – things that he found interesting, at least. And he’d blurt these things with a straight face, too.

He finally looked up and opened a kind smile.

“Thank you.”

Yeah. He… he looked less and less like a boy.

You looked to the side and frowned, hoping it would mask your embarrassment. “Why is it that whenever one of you bring me here, you get all emotional?”

Luffy giggled and finally put his hat aside before yawning. “Sleep in a rainy night is the best. Imma turn this off, okay?” He turned the lantern off before you could complain. Luffy laid on his mattress with his back turned to you. “Night.”

“Good night…”

But he was already snoring.

He dragged you to a place where you had nothing to do and slept.

Great.

You laid there, your back turned to him, for a long time. It wasn’t exactly pitch black; you could see weird shadows on the walls caused by the tree branches around. The endless pitter patter of the rain or a leak somewhere else in the house. The sound of Luffy turning around every five minutes. It seems he was hyperactive even in his sleep. It was a bit chilly due to the rain, but that cover was too short for you, which made you curl like an armadillo. You wondered how many insects were lurking in the shadows… if there were maybe snakes too looking for cover.

No sign of sleep whatsoever.

I should put the lantern under the cover and read a bit. Will he wake up with some light? Shit… the rain isn’t going away at all. I’ll catch a cold like that. Is he moving again? How can someone move so much sleeping–

Your entire body froze.

Every muscle. Every nerve. Even your lungs. Everything froze.

Arms wrapping around your waist.

His entire torso glued to your back.

And his face– his face was pressed on your neck. Right on your neck.

Wh– What?!

If that part of your brain wasn’t turned off, your immediate reaction would be to fight back. But it wasn’t on. That was Luffy. You’d never be able to hurt Luffy.

Even so – what the hell was he doing?!

Your heart raced violently as if it wanted to run away from your body; your breath came fast and short. Oh my God. What is going on? What?!

“L-Luffy?!” You managed to whisper somehow.

The answer came in the form of a soft snore.

Chills chills chills. He was breathing on your neck. It was cold then; now, it was steaming hot. His skin was always warm for some reason… but at that moment? Literally glued to you?

“Luffy?” You tried again, too scared to look over your shoulder. His hair tingled the back of your neck.

Another soft snore.

Sleeping. He was really sleeping.

Thinking back on it… you’d seen how Luffy usually sleeps. When he’s not sprawled over the bed like someone who just got shot, he’s hugging his pillow.

Oh.

So unconsciously… he found a pillow.

That made you calm down a bit – well, at least it wasn’t on purpose. Because it’d be strange if Luffy simply decided to… huh… cuddle. Not that you weren’t used to his hugs or the way he didn’t mind physical touch, but that was different. Very very very very different.

If I move away slowly… maybe he won’t wake up…

Yet, you didn’t move.

You stayed there. Still. Like a statue.

You weren’t brave enough to move away.

...You didn’t want to move away.

Luffy’s snoring wasn’t loud or annoying. His warmth… was comfortable. Shielded you from the rainy night. His grip wasn’t too tight. The slow movement of his chest against your back was calming.

To admit you were enjoying this would make you a weirdo?

Have you ever been this close to anyone before? No. Obviously no. You didn’t remember ever receiving a hug from your parents. They weren’t the type of people you could run to when you got a nightmare; they wouldn’t accept you into their bed and give you a comforting hug.

Yeah.

Perhaps being alone hurt you as much as it hurt him. More than you wanted to admit to yourself.

So slowly, your body relaxed. Slowly, you felt sleep getting heavy in your eyelids. The rain and Luffy’s calm breathing were your lullabies. Slowly, you fell asleep.

You woke up the moment he disentangled from you.

The sun already shone above the forest. He didn’t move away abruptly, but his lack of warmth was already enough to bring you back to consciousness.

You laid there, eyes closed, and waited to see what would happen.

There was silence for a while. Luffy didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. You wondered what expression he was making. You wondered if he felt uncomfortable or weird. You wondered if letting him wrap his arms around you was inappropriate.

Finally, Luffy poked your cheek.

You turned around.

His hair was a complete mess. His face all puffy.

“Morning.” His voice was husky from sleep. “Let’s go down to Foosha.”

He didn’t mention what happened.

So you wouldn’t, too.

Foosha Village didn’t have a lot of kids anymore.

Makino still baked cake for the Mayor every year, albeit the parties became smaller and quieter. The Mayor himself didn’t seem to mind, as he had already said these birthday parties were more towards the kids than to himself; but he still enjoyed a good chocolate cake anyway. Who wouldn’t?

The bar was empty in the evening. You’d already helped Makino put the chairs over the tables to sweep the floor. Now that it was all cleaned and most people left, she brought the second cake. She always baked a second cake to prevent Luffy from eating everything by himself.

It was just you, Luffy, Makino and the Mayor eating cake, sitting on a round table.

“I’m glad Ace made new friends out there.” Makino confessed, smiling sweetly. You had noticed how she – and the other three – just mentioned the name Ace after the bar emptied. It put a question mark in your head, as it always did.“I bet he’s having fun.”

“Having fun?!” Woop Slap choked. “Makino, he’s a criminal now. There’s nothing good about this.”

“D’you see his bounty photo?! He looks so sick,” Luffy completely ignored the Mayor, speaking with his mouth full of cake. Makino giggled. “And in three years, it’s gonna be me. I’ll have an even better bounty photo!”

The Mayor sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “You still want to be a pirate?!”

“The King of the Pirates.”

“My God. This generation is doomed.” He scratched his head tiredly. “You should try to knock some sense into your friend’s head, aye, Wolfie? Since you seem like a good kid.”

Luffy scoffed. “Yeah. Tooootally a good kid.”You kicked his leg under the table. “Ouch.”

These moments were always nice. Just sitting around a table, eating cake and talking about anything that came to mind. The setting sun put orange shades over everything. The air felt lighter, fresher after yesterday’s storm; it smelled of chocolate, soda and salt. The weather was comfortable. Your heart, strangely at ease.

It’d be nice, you thought, if life had more moments like that.

The Mayor thanked Makino and said his goodbyes eventually. Makino, as usual, rushed you two to climb the mountain before it got dark.

“I gotta take a leak before we go,” Luffy said. You scowled.

“Rude.”

“Can I use your bathroom, Makino?”

“Sure.” The straw hat boy ran out of the bar, as Makino’s house was just beside it. The green haired woman looked at you. “I’ll take the basket in the kitchen for you, okay?”

The picnic basket, as usual. You nodded, and she disappeared behind the door.

You sat there, your back facing the front doors with your arms crossed, and let your mind wander back to what happened past night for the first time. Luffy was acting like nothing happened. Well, maybe in his mind, it wasn’t that important, as most things weren’t. Maybe he was right. Maybe you were looking too much into something unimportant.

...Why did, suddenly, you felt like it’d be difficult to be alone with him from now on?

Difficult in what sense? You couldn’t even explain why. The sudden embarrassment to look at him for too long. The… the weird thing in your stomach. It was all strange and stupid. You already knew Luffy for a long time, right? So there was nothing to be embarrassed of.

Makino appeared from behind the kitchen doors again, holding the picnic basket. “It feels weird to not put Ace’s slice this time… but I guess the others will be happy to have more food.”

Then, she looked ahead towards the doors.

Her eyes widened slightly.

“I’m sorry, sir… we’re already closed.”

There was someone else in the bar? When did they get in? How didn’t you notice them?

At that exact moment – the air froze.

It was like time moved in slow motion.

Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could see every grain of dust dancing in the air as sunlight hit them. You became aware of everything, your senses sharpened to the maximum potency.

The scenery around you wasn’t painted in orange tones anymore. It became blue. Freezing cold blue.

All because of the presence behind you.

You already knew who it was before you turned around. Yet, for a second, you tried to deny it to yourself. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

But your senses never failed you. Not even once. You were trained to recognize immediate danger before you learned to speak. It was ingrained in your body and soul.

You turned around slowly. Immediate danger would normally make you take a fight instance in the spot. But that was useless against who stood by the door. The sheer pressure of his power. It crushed your senses, oppressed you, made the air knock out of your lungs. You wished for a second that it’d be anyone; a powerful Marine, someone wanting to kill you for whatever reason…

Anything would be a better option than who stood at the entrance of the bar.

And yet, when you made eye contact, all of your thin hopes were crushed. Everything was crushed.

Scarpia Virgus.

He looked at you in silence.

The man stood with his impeccable posture as always, his hands behind his back. He wore an elegant black suit with a deep purple tie. His long beard and hair, as white as snow.

He was not wearing his owl mask.

He was not blinking.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move.

It’d better to have a warship with all its cannons aimed at you. It’d be better to have an entire batallion of Marine troopers to face. Anything would be less dangerous than his mere presence, the single fact that he was not wearing a mask.

And Makino saw his face.

No no no no no. Please do anything to me. I don’t care. But don’t hurt Makino. Don’t kill Makino.

Finally, you gathered the strength to get up.

“This is my grandfather, Makino.” You said without taking your eyes off him for a second. He could kill her in the blink of an eye. He could bring this entire bar down with a single strike of the katana he held behind his back.

And yet, you found a way to sound somewhat normal, to not let Makino understand how close to death she stood.

She made a surprised face and looked from you to him. “Oh, really? It’s a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

He looked at her for the first time and your whole body tensed. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her. Don’t look at her.

All he did was open a serene lip tightened smile in response.

“Can we talk in the kitchen for a while?” You blurted out. “Privately?”

Once again, Makino looked from you to him repeatedly. “Uh… sure.”

She stepped aside and opened the counter’s door so you two could walk into the kitchen. You trembled when moved into the bar. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her.

When he walked past Makino, he bowed his head respectifully for a second.

You followed him shortly. Locked the door as soon as you closed it.

And then, you were alone with your grandfather.

He moved slowly, analyzing the area, as he always did. There was a small round table in the corner. Virgus sat down and put his long, black sheathed katana over the table.

He signaled for you to sit in front of him with his finger.

You obeyed.

The silence was excruciating. He was excruciating.

This was your worst nightmare. The thing you took every precaution to not let happen. The reason why you were so obedient for all these years, the reason why you trained and took commissions without a single complaint: so you wouldn’t be followed. So you wouldn’t be discovered.

But there he was – Scarpia Virgus, sitting in Partys Bar small kitchen. Your two worlds clashing. The one you hated, and the one you loved.

Grandfather wasn’t looking at you.

He took something from the inside of his suit: a small black velvet sack where he always kept his runes. Virgus shook the sack slowly. You could hear the sound of the small pieces of carved bones clacking against each other.

And when he spoke for the first time – your blood went cold.

“Monkey… D… Luffy.”

He dropped the runes over the table.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling panic and defeat wash over you. He knew about Luffy. He knew everything.

Grandfather analyzed the runes in silence for some seconds. You never understood what those symbols meant and you didn’t want to. He caressed his beard and hummed.

“He’s the son of a dragon as well. I understand why you were naturally drawn to each other.”

You didn’t know what that meant. All you could do was try to control your body, try to not shake. Not Luffy. Anyone but Luffy. Please, don’t hurt Luffy. Please.

You gulped.

“How did you find out?” It was hard to control your shaky breath. Your voice was small, uneasy, compared to his deep firm tone. “Was it Landon?”

“It was Crowley.”

Once again, the air was knocked out of your lungs.

Crowley?!

He found out about Goa Island and Luffy? How? When?!

And then, for the first time, another feeling mixed with your panic.

Anger.

Hatred.

Crowley. That demon. He pried into my life. He put Luffy in danger. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

Virgus intertwined his hands and rested them above his stomach.

“You’re angry. He played dirty. Crowley is ambitious… he wants to be the best.” He quirked one eyebrow. “But you broke several family rules.” You avoided his gaze, way too ashamed to keep looking at him. “How many people know about you?”

Lying would be pointless. You didn’t want to put a target on Luffy’s head, but to lie would be to condemn everyone else, too.

“Just Luffy. B-But he doesn’t know our family name…”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

You gulped again. Even trying to put your emotions on autopilot was useless; not with him right there, what he represented.

“B-But Luffy is just a boy from the East Blue. Even if he knew… even if…”

“That simple boy is Vice-Admiral Garp’s grandson.”

That was enough to make you swallow whatever argument you had.

Vice-Admiral Garp?!

What?! No – that couldn’t be true. B-But– Luffy barely ever talked about his grandfather; he just said he was an annoying old man. You’d never met him. His grandfather was a Marine legend?!

Scarpia Virgus scoffed. “You didn’t know that? I’m very disappointed. You decide to reveal your true identity to someone and don’t even bother to know about their background.” You felt yourself becoming small. Small, small, small, smaller under his piercing gaze. “You know our family have some sort of freedom to do whatever we want. But Garp… he’s not the type of Marine that can be bribed. If he finds out his grandson is friends with a Scarpia, we’re all doomed. Do you understand the danger you put us all through?”

You looked down at the table. Fear, anger, shame. It was all crushing.

“Does my f-father know?” Your voice became even quieter than before,

Your grandfather collected his rune pieces slowly. “If he knew, this whole village would already be reduced to ashes. He would let the boy alive to not bring us any trouble… but not everyone else, to teach you a lesson.”

Virgus put the sack inside his suit again and leaned his intertwined hands over the table. His movement, getting even a bit closer to you, made you tremble.

“Your father is intransigent. He should be, as the head of the family. He won’t understand that you’re young, and youngsters make mistakes.” He paused to let his words sink in. You knew what the unspoken part meant. Punishment. Grave punishment. Months worth of punishment. “But I do.”

Your eyes darted up to him once more.

Grandfather caressed his beard again.

“Your parents want to take you out of the business completely... so you’ll be in perfect condition for your marriage.”

“What?!” You blurted out.

They wanted to keep you locked away at Scarpia Island until the wedding? Like a prisoner?!

That’d be worst than death.

“I don’t want that to happen as well. So this is what you’ll do from now on.”

You held your breath. Was he proposing a deal?

“You’ll become my personal pupil. I’ll train you beyond the child’s play Landon has been teaching you. But you’ll leave this island right now and never come back.”

You froze again.

Leave and never come back?

Leave Luffy?

No. No, no, no. I can’t. I can’t leave the only place I’m allowed to be myself. I can’t let my small island of peace forever.

I promised Ace I’d keep showing up. I… I can’t.

I can’t leave my only friend behind.

You tightened your hands into fists. Your heart raced violently.

“I-I… I don’t want to,” you managed to speak somehow in a shallow, weak voice.

Virgus scoffed – and you realized you committed a mistake. He’d been very calm until that moment; now, he sounded angry. The least thing you wanted was to annoy him.

“You’re in no position to not want anything.” Small small small the size of a grain of salt. “The rule of our family is the rule of the strongest. And you are weak. You’re weaker than your butler; you didn’t even notice my presence until I was behind you. You don’t want to obey me? What are you gonna do about it? Do you think you can fight me?”

“N-No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can’t. You can’t fight anyone and win, because you’re naive. You haven’t understood yet that you’re a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you. Do you hate your brother? Do you seek revenge for exposing your secret? Do you want to confront your father? Do you hate this betrothal and want to get rid of it?” He leaned slightly closer. “Then be stronger. Be the strongest. Only then your voice will matter to anyone in this family.”

Virgus got up from the chair and took his katana again. “Say goodbye to him. I’ll be waiting in the harbor. If you disobey me… your father will know about this whole situation. And he won’t be as comprehensive as me.”

He started to walk away.

You gathered some courage.

“W-Why are you helping me?”

Helping. He was shattering everything that truly mattered to you.

But you knew he was right.

That was the rule of the family. The way out he offered was still much more merciful than what Scarpia Drachen would ever be able to offer.

He stopped.

“Because I see your true potential. And because you are my dear granddaughter.”

He left.

You sat there for a long time, staring at the table, until Makino walked in and asked if you were alright.

You weren’t.

You are a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you.

You would never be.

The climb up was silent.

Luffy babbled nonstop. You couldn’t speak anything. You couldn’t even look at him. Every step seemed heavy; with each of them, you felt as if a piece of your heart was dropping in the way.

You didn’t want to say goodbye.

But you couldn’t want anything. Not when Luffy, Dadan Family, Foosha Village would all be in danger.

It was all your fault in the end, wasn’t it? You weren’t careful enough; you were so sloppy that Crowley found out about your whereabouts. Crowley. I’ll kill him. I will actually kill him. This is not a joke.

Because of him, you’d never go back to Goa Island.

Because of him, you had to say goodbye to your only friend.

And it was stupid of you to wait until you were on top of your hill, that same place you sat down to eat watermelons all those years ago. The place you asked him if you could come back again. The same place where Luffy made his absurd promise.

It was stupid. It was silly. It was naive, as your grandfather called you.

But it felt appropriate.

You stopped walking.

Luffy looked back.

“Yo, Four Eyes, what’s wrong with you all of sudden?” He scratched his hair in a confused expression. “You constipated?”

Four Eyes. This stupid nickname. You weren’t even wearing glasses at that moment.

You gripped the handle of the picnic basket tighter.

For the first time, you looked up at him again.

The last rays of sun kissed his olive skin. Made his usually almost black eyes look dark chocolate. The wind hussled the trees around, played with the strands of hair on his forehead. You tried to memorize his slightly confused expression. You wanted to remember the face he’d make before you told him what you needed to tell, the last time he’d look… normal.

“Luffy, some… some things happened.” I can’t believe I’m saying this. Each word struggled to come out, as if you had swallowed sharp nails. “I received a call. I’ll… I’ll have to go back sooner.”

Luffy looked surprised for a second.

Then, his shoulders dropped.

Don’t make this face. Please, don’t make this face.

“Oh. That sucks.” He massaged the back of his neck awkwardly. “You leaving tomorrow morning?”

“I’m leaving right now.”

Don’t make this face. Don’t make this face.

“Ooh. It must’ve been very serious, huh?” It was his turn to look down. He somehow managed to smile again. “That means next year you’ll have to stay double more days to pay for now.”

You could say you’d come back, just so you wouldn’t have to go through all this pain. But that’d be way too cruel – and you couldn’t be cruel. Not with him.

You handed him the picnic basket.

“I’m… I’m not coming back next year, Luffy.”

He gasped.

His smile immediately dropped.

“...What?”

You looked down again, feeling your entire face and neck burn.

“M-My family is moving to the New World. It’s… it’s very, very far. I’m… not gonna make it here. Not anymore.”

That was the best excuse you came up with. You couldn’t tell him the complete truth. You couldn’t look at him. Just couldn’t.

Luffy put the basket on the floor.

You were startled when he put both hands over your shoulders.

And–

And he was smiling.

But it was a weird smile. It looked strained. Had he ever smiled like that before?

“No biggie!” His voice sounded strained, and strangely high pitched, too, as if there had a lump in his throat. “I’ll set sail in three years. I’ll get a crew and a ship. I’m gonna find you there this time!”

Oh crap.

There was a lump in your throat, too.

The final orange rays of light made it look like he was genuinely shining. His eyes were shining. You tried to ignore what that meant.

“You’ve been going through all this trouble of coming to visit me every year, right? Because I’m still weak and I don’t have a ship. B-But it’s alright! I’ll be even stronger in three years! Nothing will stand in my way!”

Then you were putting your hands over his shoulders too.

“No, I’m the one who’s weak.” You shook your head. “I’ll get stronger, too. I’ll work hard, okay? So no one will stand in my way.”

“Right!”

“Right!”

“This is a promise!”

“Promised!”

You hugged him.

Usually, you wouldn’t be the one to initiate any sort of physical touch. But how could you not at that moment, when your chin was trembling and you felt like you were holding back a dam? You hugged him tight, gripped the fabric of his shirt. Luffy hugged you back right away, offering no resistance; he never minded hugs anyway.

Shit, you didn’t want to let go. Even if you met each other again in three years – it was still three years, and you didn’t know if you could survive three years without him or Goa or the peace everything brought.

But it was your best shot anyway. Luffy’s safety was beyond your wishes. Even if it’d hurt.

Finally, you stepped back. Luffy coughed, scratched his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were shining, but not in a happy way. His chin was trembling. God, his chin was trembling.

“Can you… hm… can you say goodbye to Dadan and the others for me?”

Luffy nodded. “They’re gonna miss your annual rent.”

You laughed and stepped back.

“So… I’ll get going.”

“See ya.”

You hesitated before turning around.

Your steps were heavy and slow; your shoulders were dropped, head hung low. This hill, this trail you already knew like the palm of your hand. All of these trees and bugs from the island that brought you so much comfort. You were saying goodbye to all of that. What if you had never climbed Mt. Colubo at 8 years old? How lifeless and colorless your life would be? You wouldn’t even know what fun meant.

What friendship meant.

You turned around abruptly.

He was still standing there, watching you go.

Your heart throbbed. Your hands were sweating.

“Luffy!”, you called.

He smiled and waved from far.

Your fists were tightened. You knew he wouldn’t hear if you didn’t yell. So you gathered all the air in your lungs for what you were about to say.

“Thank you for being my friend!”

Your voice echoed through the woods.

Luffy widened his eyes in surprise.

And then – he was ugly crying.

“Aw, come on, man! Why you gotta get emotional all of sudden?! Shut up!!”

You laughed. How could he make you laugh even in a situation like that? “I’m emotional? You’re the one crying!”

“I’m not crying!” He wiped his face with his forearm. But he was smiling through the tears, too. He laughed with you, too. “Get the hell out of here already!”

You sent him a last glance. A last look to keep in your memory. Luffy waving goodbye, grinning, at the top of your hill.

Finally, you turned around and walked down.

Then you were running.

Then you were crying.

Only when you were far enough. Only when you knew there was no chance anyone would see it. You crouched down in the middle of the bushes, hugging your own stomach, and cried. Quietly. Painfully.

You are a Scarpia; life will never be kind to you.

Your grandfather was right. Maybe you should’ve known it sooner. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad if you had already known.

But it hurt anyway.

No rain fell over the Goa Kingdom the night you said goodbye to your best friend.

A/N: THAT WAS SAD :((

so basically, "heavenly control" = rokushiki with another name (the thing the cp9 members b doing if you don't remember). i imagine the thing about being hyper aware and in control of your body would be the basis for rokushiki before u learn the hardening and idk flying like sanji.

assassin teenager that fights with chains?? WELCOME BACK GOGO YUBARI

all that shit happened right when my girl was developing her crush lol :((

as i said previously, next chapter we'll finally get to pre timeskip!! how will they meet each other after so long?? what'll be their reactions?? I DON'T KNOW!!

As usual, feedback is MUCHHH appreciated! If you read until here please don't forget to leave a comment <3 See you!

[zorostitties]

Samsara; 1

⤕ She was plagued. Shadows loomed over her mind. She was alone in a world where no one dared to look into the occult. She missed the faceless man from her dreams, the one her soul longed for. She wanted to meet him again. He was plagued. Alucard had loved countless times. There was one love he was never able able to forget, however; the one that was ripped away from him. He knew they could never meet again.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: reincarnation, angst, romance, smut, hurt/comfort

warnings: violence/blood, explicit sex (mild in this ch), mental health issues, blasphemy (?), reader is a girl kisser, lowkey ableism (use of the r word), century xix misoginy

rating: 18+

A/N: hello world!! first of all, thank you so much for giving this fic a chance!! <3 - this is loosely inspired by nosferatu. - takes place a few decades after nocturne, so century xix. - you're 27 in this fic which is still young but not TOO young bc i don't like the idea of a 300+ guy with a barely teenager - i chose a bunch of random european last names, but i won't specify which country they're in because uh. don't wanna. please don't think too hard about actual history when reading this fic for the sake of, you know, fantasy. As usual, feedback is MUCH appreciated!! Let me know your thoughts!! Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

SAMSARA; noun. The cycle of life, death and rebirth.

• • •

It was a perfectly normal morning in the Saint-Clairs’ manor.

The spring weather was perfectly normal – a comfortable temperature; perhaps a bit chilly at the hour, but it would definitely get warmer later on. Perfectly normal birds chirped their melodies, the breeze played with the perfectly normal trees on the backyard. You had just eaten a perfectly normal breakfast, wore a perfectly normal attire – light tones, hair carefully tied up in a perfectly normal bun, almost no rouge on the lips.

You could hear your little nephews playing outside. Perfectly normal. The nannies had trouble educating them, but well, considering their age, that was perfectly normal. Your brother-in-law had already left to his perfectly normal office in the city to take care of his perfectly normal real estate business while your sister was probably reading some of her perfectly normal books.

Everything was perfectly normal.

You just had to prove to Dr. Becker that you were perfectly normal, too.

Your posture was flawless – your hands resting politely over your lap; your expression serene. The wooden crucifix pendant hung from your neck proudly to give a sense of… well… normality. Dr. Becker had already taken his book from his leather suitcase. He sat across from you, legs crossed, adjusting his glasses over his eyes. His suit was perfectly normal. His gray beard was perfectly normal. He read his past annotations in silence for some seconds before lifting his gaze to you and opening a tight smile.

“How have you been these past two months, Miss Salles?” He asked.

His voice was calm and welcoming as usual. All odds considered, you didn’t hate this man. He was just doing his job based on what he believed… well, what everyone believed. You managed to open a small smile.

“I have been feeling very well, Dr. Becker. I believe the airs of the countryside really do me good.”

The doctor chuckled lightly and scribbled something in his notebook. “Oh, I believe you. The Capital is… noisy, isn’t it? And can smell quite bad.” He grimaced playfully.

“It certainly can.” You imitated his chuckle in a demure way.

“So…” He was still scribbling, eyes down. “How have you been spending your time?” His green hawk eyes were upon you again.

“I spend most of my days with my sister.” He took notes. “We’ve been apart for a long time, so… a lot of catching up to do.”

“For sure.”

“We go to church together on Wednesdays and Sundays. We do our prayers in the evening.” He took a quick glance at the crucifix on your chest before taking more notes.

“How do you feel being surrounded by other people during the masses?” He was looking at you again. “Any… sudden discomfort?”

That was his polite way of asking if you’d been panicking in public again.

“No.” That wasn’t a lie. “The church we go to is very calm. Mostly elders.”

“Good. As I have advised.” He nodded whilst taking more notes. “What else do you do?”

“Horse riding. I’ve always loved horses.” Dr. Becker nodded again and smiled.

“There’s some magnificent horses here, aye? I’ve taken a quick glance at the stables. Mr. Saint-Clair sure has great taste.”

“He does.”

“And a lot of space to ride, too. This is great. Being in touch with animals does wonders to the spirit.” More notes. “What else… have you been doing?”

“I spend a lot of time with my nephews, too.” The first time you opened a genuine smile during this conversation. Dr. Becker smiled too while taking more notes.

“They’re sweethearts, aren’t they?”

“Little devils they are.” You giggled. “But yes. I play with them when they’re not studying. They’re wonderful.”

“Your sister told me of the great relationship you have with them. You’ve always liked children, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

There it was.

The way Dr. Becker’s smile tightened. You’d been through this too many times to know what was coming next.

“I’ve come to know you like to tell them stories, too. Mr. Saint-Clair told me… of the bed time stories. About a… how was it called…? A vampire hunter. A witch. And a vampire prince.”

If you were a little less used to this type of interview, your serene expression would have faltered. Your nostrils would have widened in anger. Fucking Julien. Of course he’d think you were hallucinating to his children.

“They’re just bedtime stories.” You shrugged lightly.

Dr. Becker took a deep breath. “Yes, of course, Miss Salles. But… you do understand my concern here, don’t you? Vampirism… and the likes of it… have always been a recurring topic to your panics.”

You scratched your forehead. It was becoming hard to hide your discomfort.

“My nephews are boys. I tell them stories of bravery and heroism. This is the type of tale they like to hear.”

“Sure… but…”

“It’s called imagination, Dr. Becker.” You opened a tight smile. “I know my brother-in-law isn’t quite familiar with the concept, since he’s always so busy with work. But that’s just what it is.”

Maybe you went a little too far.

Dr. Becker looked at you in silence for maybe three seconds. Then, more notes. These notes took longer this time.

“On the topic of imagination. Your sister told me you didn’t have any night terrors these past two months. This is great news.” He looked up at you again. “Have you been taking your medication properly?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Any… nightmares? Strange dreams?”

Yes. Every night.

“No. My sleep has been silent… peaceful.”

“What a relief. Any apparition?”

Many.

“Not at all.”

More and more notes.

Dr. Becker looked to the desk resting behind him and took some papers. “You still paint a lot, I see.”

“Yes. The landscape here is beautiful. It’s impossible to not feel inspired.”

The doctor analyzed the paintings with care. Horses… Hills… Flowers… A portrait of your four nephews… All perfectly normal. All painfully boring. They didn’t like when your paintings got more free or abstract.

“You are very talented, Miss Salles.” That was a compliment, but deep down you knew it wasn’t. “Painting well” was a talent that many crazed women had. “Very beautiful.”

No blood or vampires or witches or demonic symbols is what he probably was scribbling in his notebook.

Dr. Becker put the paintings aside again and looked at you. Really looked at you, analyzed, scrutinized.

“I want you to be honest with me. Brutally honest.” Dr. Becker tightened his eyes. “How are you truly feeling?”

Horrible.

I have migraines. I have nightmares. I feel shivers all the time. I know something bad is going to happen. I have been dreaming of him more than ever. My heart aches whenever I think of him.

But you’re not going to believe me.

So you smiled.

“I feel… at peace. I don’t know if it’s my sister’s company, or the food, or the Spring that makes me feel better. But… I feel that my prayers are finally being answered this time.”

Dr. Becker watched you. Analyzed you. Scrutinized you.

His gaze softened.

“This is wonderful news. I have been praying for your recovery as well, Miss Salles. God is definitely hearing; He always does.”

More notes.

You hoped he was signing your perfectly normal certificate this time.

Your older sister was a perfectly normal woman.

She was your opposite in many ways. Clara always fit. Demure, well-educated, a good Catholic from birth; she always excelled in her studies, she always did what was expected of her. Clara was a good child. She became a coveted lady. She caught the eyes of a fabulously rich man, as was expected of her. She married such man, dropped the Salles last name and became Mrs. Saint-Clair. She gave birth to four perfectly normal and healthy boys, as was expected of her. She was still beautiful and took care of her appearance well despite the four pregnancies, as was expected of her.

All perfectly normal.

But despite everything, you loved her.

She loved you – which was very surprising, considering the general idea perfectly normal people had of you, including your parents. Clara was never embarrassed of you, never wanted to hide you from the face of Earth… though, for most of the time, her feelings didn’t really matter.

Clara was the one who always tried to convince your parents that you were perfectly normal too, despite the fact that you much obviously weren’t. The times you spent not being hospitalized or in boarding schools or in convents (which were just asylums for rich women) were mostly thanks to her efforts – that is, until you’d have another panic attack or night terror or premonition and your parents would want to hide you from society again. This cycle repeated over and over again since you were… eight? Nine? You didn’t even remember.

As soon as your father died a year ago, Clara didn’t wait a week to take you out of the convent. Not only was she the oldest daughter and heiress to the Salles fortune, no one would dare argue with Julien Saint-Clair’s wife. She kindly took you to her home… well, you even tried to live by yourself at the Capital for a while until that happened and you had to come back.

The past six months had been good. Except for… well. Your problem. But you became quite good at pretending you were normal, so good that even Clara started to believe you.

“The appointment was good, I suppose?” Clara said after dinner, when the kids were already put to bed. She sat beside you on the couch with that hopefulness you were used to. “Dr. Becker said you made progress.”

You nodded. So you had succeeded.

“It’s like I told him. The countryside does me good. You and the kids do me good.” You playfully elbowed her side. Clara smiled and sighed.

“I’m so glad to hear that, sister.” She caressed your hair softly. “I’ve never seen you so… calm.”

Oh my dear, you have no idea. You were anything but calm. Your dreams and premonitions became more frequent over the past two months for no reason. But no, you weren’t going to tell her that – not only because Clara was perfectly normal, so although she loved you, she also thought you were insane, therefore you wouldn’t try to explain anything to her. And… you already caused her enough trouble. You didn’t want to bother her with what plagued you anymore, not now that she had her own family to care for.

“I feel calm.”

Clara rested her head on your shoulder. You stayed in silence like that for some moments.

You loved her. You loved her so much. There weren’t many people in his life who treated you with normality or even kindness. While your parents were alive, you were just a freak. A failure. To your religious mother, you were possessed; to your father, you were retarded. To the both of them… you were nothing but a problem. But to Clara, you were a sister – and she made her sons see you as an aunt. You’d always be grateful for that.

Clara played with the embroidery of the skirt of her dress absently.

“I was wondering.” Her voice was quiet and hesitant, which immediately made you feel tense. “Do you still dream of… that man?”

You froze.

“No.” Lie lie lie lie lie. You frowned. “Why are you asking me this all of sudden?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know. I was just… remembering how you used to talk about him when you were younger. Those seemed to be your only good dreams. Right?”

You looked down, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way you gulped.

She was… partially right. Most of the dreams involving him were good. The faceless, nameless man that lived in your head and plagued your nights.

His voice was deep. Husky. Most times, serene. For some reason, you couldn’t see a face… just strands of long, golden hair. A scar crossed over his chest. Kind, reassuring words. Sometimes banter. The warmth of hugs. The heat of kisses. The ringing of laughter.

You’d dreamed of this man since… always. It almost felt as if you knew him. As if he was real.

And that’s precisely what plagued you.

You knew your problem wasn’t insanity – at least, not by the usual conventions of men. Every doctor, every priest, every nun, all of them tried to convince you that your shivers and terrors and dreams were just in your head (or, well, caused by Satan); they tried to make you not believe anything. But you knew they were wrong.

Because the things you saw and dreamed of happened.

You dreamed of your mother’s death five days before she went. You saw her die. You knew she’d have a heart attack at three in the morning, you knew she’d die on bed by your father’s side. You were locked at the convent at the time; you tried to reach for your parents, send them a messenger or a letter or anything, but the nuns simply dismissed it as another insanity fit. No one cared what you said.

She went exactly like that.

When you were nine, you saw your sister fall off a tree and break her arm minutes before it happened – you were on the other side of the house at the moment. The nannies were scared when you told them. Your father brushed it aside.

You knew the Mother Superior from the convent would die choking on an olive seed approximately two weeks before it happened. You didn’t warn anyone – they wouldn’t believe you anyway… and you hated her. You dreamed of your sister’s first pregnancy a month before the good news came. You dreamed of Julien Saint-Clair years before they first met, though Clara judged it was just a coincidence. There were so many more occurrences like that; you had premonitions of trivial things, like what you’d have for dinner tomorrow, or much more serious things like the mentioned above.

There was not a single time when these premonitions didn’t come true.

Which leads you back to that man.

Just why did you keep dreaming of him for years?

For a long time, you foolishly waited – hoped – he’d miraculously show up; a prince on a white horse to save you from your torture. But… you never met him. You never met any of the people that appeared in the dreams he was involved… like the redhead witch. The blue eyed, dark haired warrior.

These dreams were detailed. They were disconnected, like different pieces of a puzzle. Over the years, you managed to thread some sort of… timeline of events that you kept written on a secret journal. Sometimes they ended abruptly. Sometimes, you dreamed of them the entire night.

Your dreams usually depicted future events. These premonitory dreams were short, made you wake up with your heart racing. So the dreams with this man felt… different.

They felt like memories.

But how could you remember something you’d never lived?

You didn’t know. In fact, you understood very little of this problem. You’d never found anyone that actually sat down for a minute and listened to what you had to say without assuming you were insane on the spot. Your family discouraged you from speaking; the Church disapproved any of it, as “magic” and “seeing the future” were “demonic”. So all you could do was sit alone inside your own head and wonder.

You hated all of this. You hated that Clara of all people mentioned him. Just thinking of him made your heart tighten as if you were under physical pain. The man of your dreams… for a long time, you considered him a friend, the only one you had. When you were locked in the asylum that disguised itself as a convent, having not a single person to talk to and being constantly scrutinized, not receiving a visit from your parents for years… as you slept, all you had was him. The serene voice of the faceless man who seemed to love you despite everything.

It didn’t make sense to love someone that only existed in your own head.

You sighed. You weren’t insane, and you weren’t an idiot. Clara wouldn’t touch such subject out of nowhere.

“I am going to ask you again,” you spoke quietly but seriously. “Why are you talking about this all of sudden?”

It was Clara’s turn to sigh.

She straightened her back and turned her body in your direction slightly. Clara held both of your hands, resting them over her lap between you. She avoided your gaze at first.

Here it comes.

“You know I want you to be happy more than anyone in this world, right?”

“I do.”

“You know I love you more than anyone in this world too. Right?”

“I love you too, Clara.” You tightened your eyes slowly.

“And I want you to find love in your life. I… I hope it to be as kind and good as the one you described in your dreams when you were younger.” Your stomach started to twist. Oh no. “And… the kindest, purest love that exists is the love of a mother.”

No no no no no. You knew where this was going. You wanted to vomit.

Clara looked at you and smiled.

“I never thought I’d love anyone as much as I love my babies. Sister, my life… my life became complete with them in a way I can’t even describe. It’s the love of Mary. The love of our Lord.” She hesitated before proceeding. “I believe… I believe this type of love can complete you, too.”

You stiffened.

“Clara. Be direct.”

She gulped.

“Julien… Julien has an associate. A bachelor. He showed great interest in you–“

You immediately let go of her hands.

“Oh, right. Julien.”

“Sister, please…”

You couldn’t help the angry grimace that covered your features, the way you tapped your foot on the floor nervously, the crossing of arms. Julien. Of course he’s been looking for a way to get rid of me. You didn’t hate him – how could you? He actually loved Clara, he gave her four beautiful boys. But you knew he was similar to your father in many ways. He was perfectly normal after all – and you were a problem.

“Listen to me.” Clara continued in a pleading tone. “He’s a respectable man. I’ve already researched his entire life… I’d never let you marry someone indecent.” She hesitated before continuing. “We all knew this was going to happen some time, didn’t we?”

You refused to look at her. Yes, it was childish. Yes, you knew she was right. But it didn’t make anything better.

Clara reached for something on the cabinet near the sofa. It was a silver locket, slightly bigger than a common one.

She offered it.

“His name is Alfred Zardini.”

You took it and opened it reluctantly.

And you almost dropped it.

“He looks fifty!”

Clara took both of your hands forcefully, making you look at her. Right then, she wasn’t talking like a sister – she was talking like a mother.

“Sister. I know this might sound cruel to you, but we must be realistic.” You didn’t like that tone. Not at all. “Mr. Zardini might not be in his prime, but he owns half of this country’s ships. His family is traditional and respected everywhere. The life he can offer you is more than comfortable; he’ll make you a queen. Do you understand how blessed you are? How many women must be fighting to become Mrs. Zardini? And he showed great interest in you!”

“Oh, how extraordinary that any man would willingly court the Salles freak. How blessed I must feel!”

Clara choked on her own words.

“T-That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s exactly what you meant. Didn’t you ask me to be realistic?”

You got up and held your own head, feeling your breath get ragged. You walked from side to side, facing the carpet. You could feel Clara’s embarrassment and guilt fill the room – yet, you refused to look at her.

The Salles freak. The retarded daughter. You knew how people talked about you – sometimes they didn’t even bother talking behind your back. They talked about your night terrors, your hospitalizations, your insanity fits. They whispered and side eyed you. They made these whispers bigger than they actually were.

She’s been a burden to her parents. Now, she became a burden to her sister.

Mr. Saint-Clair is brave for letting her live among his children. Crazed women like that can become very dangerous.

Poor Mr. and Mrs. Salles! They didn’t have a son, and their second daughter is invalid. That’s why Clara is so kind; she always worked to keep this family together.

These were things you heard with your ears and with your mind. That’s what they thought of you. That’s why you avoided attending any social events, no matter how hard Clara insisted.

Were them all even wrong?

“You are not a freak. Don’t talk about yourself like that.” Clara said.

“Does what I think of myself matter?”

“Of course it does. More than anyone else.”

You stopped for a moment and looked at her.

Your dear, dear sister. You knew she was trying her best – she always did. You knew taking care of you wasn’t easy. Yes, you woke up in the middle of the night screaming; sometimes, being in the middle of any crowds was unbearable, made you want to scream and rip your hair off because there were so many emotions and so many thoughts flooding into you. Yes, you knew that dealing with your visions would be scary to anyone perfectly normal.

You knew she was right.

You were twenty seven. You were a famous freak. The fact that this Mr. Zardini was even remotely interested in you was a miracle.

Julien saw you as a problem to be solved, an expense to be cut. Clara was the heiress to the Salle’s estate – and you knew she’d let you live the most comfortable life money could offer – but Julien was responsible over Clara. He owned the estate. He didn’t want to spend more money on you… so he found a substitute.

That’s why he’d been so adamant with the evaluations by Dr. Becker, you finally realized. He really wanted you to have a “perfectly normal certificate” to assure Mr. Zardini that you weren’t that crazy.

Was he even wrong? Shouldn’t women get married at some point? You couldn’t live in their home forever. You were a burden. You always were.

This would never change.

You sighed deeply. Your head hung low.

“I apologize, Clara. I’ve been ungrateful.”

“No!” Clara got up immediately. “No, you’re not. Don’t apologize.”

“I just got surprised. That’s all.” You couldn’t look at her in the eye. “I… I’ll go to bed and we’ll talk about it better tomorrow. Okay?”

“Sure. Sleep well.”

Maybe it looked like Clara wanted to hug you, but you couldn’t bear physical touch right now – so you turned around and left.

Your heart raced. Your mouth was dry. You wanted to cry – oh, please. Not right now. You ran through the corridors, not wanting to be seen by any maid so they could spread even more rumors about you.

You spent years locked by your parents in different institutions. Now, after only a year of freedom… you’d have to be locked to a man again?

You were about to reach your bedroom when you heard a whistle.

You stopped on your tracks.

“Auntie!”

It was Pierre, peeking at you from a breach on his door. He smiled excitedly.

You gulped, immediately swallowing the tears, and smiled too.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“You didn’t finish the story! We want–“

“–To know the rest!”

Oh. It was Gabriel too. They were all awake.

You really, really didn’t want to… but their little faces lured you in. You could feel their excitement vibrating in the air around them, making everything feel lighter.

How could you resist that?

You sighed and entered the room. They squealed in joy.

The four boys were reunited in Pierre’s bedroom, the oldest; he was ten years old. You sat on his large bed, and the others followed.

“Before I continue, I have to ask… which of you gossipers told anyone about our bedtime stories?”

“It wasn’t me!”

“Me neither!”

“Uh… I don’t remember…”

“Oh, sure. No one is to blame.” You crossed your arms, pretending to be angry. They all giggled. “Listen to me. Our stories are secret, aye? Otherwise they’ll lose all the magic.”

“Right, right! We won’t tell anyone!”

“So… where was I…?”

“The warrior and the witch crossed the magic mirror!” Gabriel remembered.

“Ooooh. Right.” You rubbed your hands excitedly. The four boys watched you with widened eyes and giant grins. You had dreamed of these events many times. They were as clear as day in your mind – almost as if they happened yesterday.

Almost as if you were there.

“The warrior and the witch crossed the mirror in time to save the vampire prince. Fire, the witch conjured; chains, the warrior swung. The flames surrounded them, engulfed the black castle in chaos. It was hot, so hot! Hotter than the hotter summer you can thing of. The castle felt like hell on Earth. There were monsters everywhere… and a powerful magician upstairs planning to do something terrible.”

“And what did they do next?” Little Leo asked, his eyes gleamed.

You smirked mischievously.

“What do you think? They fought.”

“Are you seriously hiding here?”

He peeked at her through his lashes.

She stood beside him with her arms on each side of her waist, gazing down at him disapprovingly. It was lighthearted, however. He knew it. The hem of her dress was dirty with mud, as well as the apron around her waist. Her hair, mostly hidden under a colorful scarf.

He liked it. When she looked disheveled and annoyed.

He closed his eyes again and hummed.

“Just five minutes.”

“They’re looking for you. They want to know where the tools are.”

“I already showed Greta.”

“Well, you clearly forgot about that part.”

“Can’t they just… search?”

“The basement is the size of a city. They won’t find anything.”

He sighed again.

“Just five more minutes.”

“You can’t be serious–“

His next movement was swift. He sat up, grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him; his back hit the soft grass under his body. Her head rested over his chest.

She was shocked for a few seconds.

“This was low of you.”

“I know.” He chuckled. His deep voice reverberated in her body. “Just five minutes. I’m serious.”

She sighed, but didn’t move.

He knew that soon, everyone else would find out about this clearing. It was hidden behind thick trees and tall boulders, just a little space in the midst of the dense woods, relatively far from the castle… and the newborn village. These people knew how to navigate inside a forest. Soon, this clearing wouldn’t be a secret anymore. But for now… it was just his bubble of peace, his breath of fresh air from the many voices out there.

That was being more stressful than he first assumed.

“I’m not used to so many people.” He confessed quietly. “They can be loud.”

“I know.” Her voice was as quiet as his, matching his tone. “I’d say you’re doing a great job, though. For a sheltered prince.”

“Of course I’m doing a great job.”

She punched his side playfully.

“Cocky bastard.” He laughed.

“The way they come to ask me things all the time… and make questions and… and Belmont…”

“Trevor can barely walk. He’s still severely injured.”

“His presence annoys me. I can feel his reek from miles.”

“Oh, God.” He couldn’t see it, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. But she laughed. He laughed, too.

She looked up for the first time, resting one of her forearms over his chest. She put a strand of golden hair behind his ear softly. He loved her touch. He loved her warmth. He loved her eyes. Loved, loved, loved.

“Everything will work out in the end.” She said softly. He chuckled.

“It’s already working, my dear. Because you’re here.”

He loved the way she was so fierce and outspoken, but would still open a shy smile whenever he said something like that.

“That was low of you,” she repeated. He held her chin softly, his voice dropping even lower.

“I love to play low.”

He captured her lips on his. They were soft, sweet, as they always were. It rapidly progressed from a small peck to a deep kiss, as it always did. He entangled his fingers around the back of her hair, as he always liked to do; she sat on his lap with her legs on each side of him, as he knew she would do from the start. His hands roamed her body. It spread fire through her skin, to her core, as it always did.

And then, he was sat, with her still on his lap; his lips kissed and licked and sucked on her neck, while it was her turn to grip his hair – as she always did. She bucked her hips on his repeatedly, deliciously, as she always did, igniting every nerve of his body. She was quick to unbutton his pants. She always was. She smiled mischievously when her hand gripped around his hot, hardened member, earning him a soft grunt, guiding it towards her throbbing entrance. She always did.

She always felt amazing. Hot, wet, tight – tight tight tight tight. He loved the sweat dripping over her face, neck, cleavage, the format of her lips. She loved his moans and his whimpers, the obscenities that erupted from his deep voice, his pleasured expression, the blush over his face and chest; he almost looked in pain. He looked glorious. He always did. He locked his strong arms around her waist, as he always did, while she rode him relentlessly, feeling every centimeter of him inside of her, melting and shaking at the way he filled her so perfectly.

They took much more than just five minutes.

They always did.

Alucard stared at the wooden ceiling for a long, long time.

He shouldn’t have slept. He’d been avoiding it for months, just resigning himself to quick naps when his brain couldn’t take it anymore. Well, that was a quick nap. He didn’t expect to dream during it.

To remember it.

He massaged his own forehead, letting a deep groan escape. Shit. It was getting worse. These… dreams. He didn’t know why. Quite honestly, he didn’t want to know why. If he investigated the cause, it meant he’d have to think about it, and he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to remember it.

But Alucard wasn’t in control of his subconsciousness, unfortunately.

He sat on the bed, feeling his entire body heavy and tired, and pushed his hair back. The lighting from outside indicated night was about to fall… which meant he had an unpleasant task ahead of him. He didn’t have time to think about anything else. He came here for a reason. To lay on bed and brood over the past wouldn’t help him.

Alucard came to this city to hunt.

So he got up and washed himself.

He had been tracking this prey for months, the wicked magician that refused to die. He had many names over the years, but Alucard first met him by the name of Gael. The sick fuck obsessed with immortality. Alucard ignored him back then, but he knew better now. That man became far more powerful and dangerous than he could ever imagine. Ignoring him was a mistake.

Alucard didn’t know what the hell he was doing in the countryside, living among the rich. More importantly – Alucard didn’t know where he was. Gael was a master of disguise; that is why he was able to successfully hide from Alucard for so long.

Quite frankly, the half-vampire was sick of him.

It could be because Gael was a hateful murderer, because Alucard didn’t like him on a personal level, or because he was just very annoyed overall. Sleep deprivation was really starting to get to him. That linked with all these dreams…

Alucard made a conscious effort to never dwell too much into the past. As an immortal, he knew very well how dangerous it could be, how it could poison his soul. Of course… he cherished the ones he loved during his life. He was grateful for the marks they left. But some memories, some people just hurt way too much. Were too unbearable to take.

Like her.

Fuck. Just the thought of her made Alucard feel a sting right in his heart.

How long has it been? Two… three hundred years? In his mind, it felt like yesterday. Why were his memories so vivid? He didn’t remember every moment of his life with such clarity – and he was grateful for that.

But her?

The color and the texture of her hair between his fingers. The warmth of her skin. The sound of her laughter. Every conversation, every disagreement, every joke, every hug, every fight. Every good morning. Every good night.

He remembered everything.

He never forgot her. How could he? Alucard didn’t want to erase her existence from his life; he’d rather feel the agony of longing than the emptiness of never having met her. Even so… to think too much about her hurt, because it didn’t only bring the good memories. It brought the bad ones, too.

It brought back the farewell.

So, he decided to keep her… hidden in his mind, but at the same time, always there. She came back from time to time over the years – a smell that reminded him of her, a flower that matched her hair color, something he knew she’d find funny. Even after all these years, she stayed.

But these vivid dreams didn’t let Alucard remember her in a good but distant way.

They made him miss her. Miss her bad.

So bad that he was starting to lose focus.

He stared at himself in the mirror while adjusting his cravat. The curse of immortality kept him the same, except for his hair that completely lost their golden color over the years. Perhaps that made everything worse. A constant reminder that everything had an end; everything went. Everything forgot.

Alucard didn’t.

He sighed deeply and attached the sword in his belt.

There wasn’t time to think of any of it.

He had to hunt.

The ceremony hall of the Saint-Clair’s manor was crowded.

Well – as crowded as a high society ball could be. Prestigious families from all over the city came over, wearing their most impressive attires; an explosion of colors, silk and diamonds. Soft music played by a very competent band filled the halls. Conversations, laughter, the smell of wine and champagne… all very luxurious, all very proper.

Alucard would rather tap dance barefoot on broken glass than be there.

But he didn’t have much of a choice – not when he knew Gael would attend.

The stench of his magic was everywhere, made Alucard want to vomit. All of these humans, innocently walking around and talking, had no idea of the creature that loomed over the hall. Because that was what Gael became – he could barely be categorized as a human anymore, let alone a vampire. He was a thing. An entity.

He was disguised.

He could be anyone.

Gael was smart. He impregnated his presence everywhere, and did so well that everyone smelled like him – that old lady, that waiter, that musician… all of them. Alucard couldn’t simply attack. He had to gather information; he had to wait.

And no, he wasn’t trying to hide himself.

He knew the quick glances people took at him – some not so quick – and the whispers. The blushing. Alucard was taller than almost everyone else, it was impossible to go unnoticed. Not that he cared. He wanted Gael to see he was there. If Gael stayed, Alucard would find him one way or another; if Gael tried to flee, it would make Alucard’s life even easier. His absence in the city would stand out like a sore thumb. It’d be even easier to track him.

Unfortunately, that meant he’d have to behave for now.

He wouldn’t be able to hunt the way he wanted. No… he’d have to be polite and small talk. Because for these people, he wasn’t Alucard.

He was Duke Tepes.

“Mr. Tepes!”

Alucard turned around to see Julien Saint-Clair approach with a broad smile. The man hadn’t changed much since the last time he saw him three years ago… maybe his hairline was starting to recede. Alucard was glad to not know him for that long, otherwise Julien would find his unchanging appearance strange.

None of these people suspected Alucard wasn’t human, of course.

Mankind was changing rapidly. After Erzsebet Bathory’s failed attempt to rule the world decades ago, vampires got scared (for lack of a better word) and decided to hide more than they ever did. So, slowly, the fear inherent to humans was fading; the rise of technology, of easier global travels, of new discoveries, made mankind not look into what they couldn’t see anymore. Mothers didn’t warn their children about the dangers of the night. Fathers didn’t carry silver knives for protection.

This newer generation didn’t even believe vampires or magic existed.

Which was both good and bad. Good because it became easier for Alucard to simply blend in; when they looked at his pale skin or prominent fangs, they didn’t immediately assume he wasn’t human, because that would be illogical. At the same time… it made humans more fragile. How could they protect themselves against something they didn’t even believe existed?

In other words, Alucard had a lot of work to do everywhere.

Including there at the Saint-Clair’s manor.

He gave Julien’s hand a firm shake. “It’s an honor to see you here, my friend.” The man said. “Did you have a comfortable travel?”

“As comfortable as possible.” Alucard offered him a tight, humorless but polite smile.

Julien chuckled. “Yes, I believe coming all the way from Wallachia can’t be easy. Here, let me introduce you to some of my friends…”

Oh, there were so many excited to meet the Duke of Wallachia. Such a mysterious man. I heard he’s fabulously rich. I heard he owns a diamond mine. I heard he’s hard to approach. I heard he’s single. I’d like to be the mother of his children.

Alucard wanted to die.

It was hard to divide his attention between these empty conversations and finding Gael. The stench – it was disgusting. The pressure of Gael’s presence was like black mud dripping from the walls, from the tall curtains, made the marble floor sticky; every person present was drenched in this black mud, their teeth were dirty with it, their expensive attires drenched – but no one else could sense that, and that made Alucard go insane. How blind did humanity become? How can they not feel this?

Why did I let Gael get so powerful?

He silently stood in a circle of men – all rich heirs to different types of fortunes he didn’t care about – absently watching the champagne bubbles play inside the glass he held while they talked about… oh, he wasn’t paying attention. Any strange voice… any disturbance… his ears traveled far. He needed a hint. Any hint. Anything–

The man beside him gasped softly and looked back. Alucard didn’t remember to his name. It immediately caught his attention.

“Look who just arrived,” the man said, not necessarily at Alucard.

It seemed that the entire hall stopped for a moment to watch. It was weird.

Alucard frowned and turned around towards the entrance of the hall–

And the world stopped.

It stopped. Went silent. Went empty. Like reality itself cracked in front of his eyes.

Alucard couldn’t breathe anymore.

There were two women entering the hall.

They looked alike, probably sisters. The one that looked the oldest and had a large smile walked in front; she wore a deep purple ball gown. Pretty pearl earrings and a necklace decorated her skin. Julien Saint-Clair rushed to grab her by the arm, and Alucard immediately understood that was his wife, hence the commotion; she was the Mistress of that house.

But he didn’t pay attention to her. Not at all.

The woman walking behind her.

The younger one.

She wore an emerald green dress that let her shoulders and collarbones apparent. The tight corset, puffy sleeves and skirt had golden lines weaved into them. A diamond necklace sat over her collarbones with matching earrings. White embroidered gloves covered her hands.

Alucard could pretend that his breathing halted because the newcomer was beautiful – more beautiful than any other woman in the hall.

But that wasn’t the truth.

It was her.

The same the same the same. She looked the same. Exactly the same as the woman from his memory, the woman he saw as clear as day in his dream earlier that day. The woman that never left his mind. The woman that he loved with every fiber of his being.

The lover that died over three hundred years ago.

Alucard blinked, tried to recompose himself. No, this can’t be true. Stop that. It’s just… she’s just similar– no, not just similar; she’s identical. He felt his fingertips shaking as if a magical attack had pierced his soul, managed to crack his nonchalant façade. How can it be? How can someone be so similar to her…?

She wasn’t stained by that black mud, Alucard noticed. The only one that didn’t reek.

Gael. You have to focus on Gael. Stop that.

All of it happened in the course of three seconds.

“Sweet mother of Jesus,” the man beside him said under his breath. “That’s a sight for sore eyes.”

“Has she ever been this beautiful?” Another man whispered.

“I don’t even remember seeing her since she was fifteen.”

Alucard tightened his eyes slowly. So… he wasn’t the only one paying attention. Why was everybody else so shocked?

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask–

“Who is she?” Alucard asked.

The man gave him a knowing smile.

“Miss Salles. Mrs. Saint-Clair’s younger sister. She’s a jewel, ain’t she?” The man chuckled. “But you don’t want that kind of trouble into your life, no matter how pretty it looks. Trust me.”

Alucard’s quirk of brow was enough of a question. The man took another sip of his champagne.

“That pretty thing is crazy.” The other men beside him giggled. Alucard didn’t like that… not at all. “I mean… clinically insane. She brought so much trouble to the Salles Family that I don’t even know how Mrs. Saint-Clair managed to save her reputation from her sister’s shadow.”

“Well, Alfred already made sure to keep her out of everyone’s reach.” The other man beside him said. “He’s going to court her.”

“Mr. Zardini?! I didn’t know that.”

“My wife knows it all.” He giggled. “Well, looking at her right now… the man might be a genius, aye? I bet a bit of insanity is worth it if he gets all that in the end.”

“But isn’t she too old already? Can she even bear children?”

Alucard felt more and more disgusted.

He wasn’t listening to their futile talks anymore. He tried not to, but his eyes unconsciously traveled to her figure again. Ms. Salles stayed closer to her sister; although she had a small smile and offered polite curtsies, he could see she was immensely uncomfortable. Almost like she wanted to run away.

How could she not, when all of these people were whispering absurdities about her?

He felt bad.

God, she is identical. She really is.

It wasn’t the first time Alucard met people similar to someone he met or loved in the past. How many Trevors and Syphas and Gretas had he already encountered? But… but like that? Identical like that?

Was she really all that identical, or was his mind playing tricks on him?

Maybe if he got a little closer… maybe if he heard her voice…

No. No no no no. That’s not why you’re here. You came to hunt Gael. He’s certainly in this hall with you. He has to be captured. He has to be stopped.

Alucard looked around. The musical group began a different tune, and couples started to walk to the center to dance. Gael. You must find Gael. He can be anyone. Pay attention, sharpen your senses; focus, focus…

“Look. Zardini is going to make a move.” The man beside him caught his attention again. They watched in expectation.

A tall bearded man that looked to be in his fifties slowly crossed the hall. He wore an imposing and expensive suit. His chest was filled, his chin was high with confidence.

He made his way towards the younger Salles sister.

Towards her.

And then, Alucard forgot about Gael.

He forgot how to control his body. He placed his glass of champagne on some waiter’s tray. His feet walked on their own. He crossed the hall at a nonchalant, yet speedy pace.

Alucard stopped in front of her before Zardini could.

The world stopped.

Identical. Identical. She’s identical.

Alucard didn’t let his astonishment show.

His face was a mask of serenity; in his lips, a small lip tightened smile. Her eyes widened. She let a small gasp of surprise.

The entire hall stopped breathing when Alucard bowed politely, his left arm behind his back, his right hand offered to her, and said:

“Ms. Salles, may I have this dance?”