bewitched me
maki x reader rewrite
3- oh mother, i can feel the soil falling over my head
masterlist
page from aiken's journal: hardly any color keys and they're kinda the wrong ones but I literally don't even care at this point. anyways I surprisingly haven't abandoned this fic yet! also this low key looks like yap on the outside but its more than that. this was not proofread. also this is highkenuinely over 12k words.
content warnings: mommy issues, hints towards symptoms of mental disorders (hallucinations), blood, needles, complicated Maki again. and mentions of vomiting lmk if I missed any!!
APRIL 8TH, 2017. 9:46 AM. SHIMANE OUTSKIRTS. JAPAN.
The countryside—the trees, the bare grass untouched by the civilization down the nonexistent road and around a hill, the small stream that led to a lake, the soil, the herbs and lingering symbols and runes carved into trees, the strange howls at night, the fairytale witch coven in the woods—it was all yours.
Yes, you were that strange witch girl at Maki’s school.
All those things—the myths, the stories, the mysterious looks you got from people when you made the thirty minute frolic down to the nearest village—were all yours.
And, they were your coven’s, too. Your mother especially. But your mother was different from the other women; the others weren’t as nosy and they didn’t quite have the suspicion to stick their snouts all the way into your business when you so much as breathed about talking to people outside of your coven. They all watched quite closely over you as you harnessed your cursed technique, which they were bewildered by as no one in their coven ever had a cursed technique before, and albeit, the pesky questions about it were annoying and they pestered you for information like it came with a prepackaged guidebook, but none of them were as eerie of it as your mother.
Your mother hated your technique, at least, that was what you thought.
For the longest time, long before she herself even joined, the coven had prided itself on being a witch-only coven after Jujutsu sorcerers became an influx in other covens around Japan. Your mother was one of those women who wore her pride on her sleeve and kept her heart in a freezer. She was also one of those women who believed that witches were above Jujutsu sorcerers, claiming that ‘their cursed energy brings nothing but trouble into this world.’ She cared even less for normal people, she believed they were the biggest contributors to the cornering of the witch population around the planet. She believed everyone who didn’t have magic in them—normal or Jujutsu sorcerers—was no more worthy of a witches spared glance than the dirt on their boots.
Your mother wanted to keep you sanitized—locked away from the rest of the world where curses and criminals and Jujutsu sorcerers and filthy non-witches roamed the land—and clean from the clutches of the undeserving. When she was pregnant with you, she prayed to the trees and the leaves on their branches and their trunks and the soil beneath their stumps that you wouldn’t stray away from the coven, that you’d stay a pure witch like the other women in your family tree had been (and some of the men, too).
She was thrilled when she first laid eyes on you.
All your studies came from your mother and the rest of your coven. Katsu, the coven’s resident author for keeping several lifetimes worth of books on her shelves, taught you your grammar and spelling and how to read and write (and taught you Latin, as well). Okuda, the chef between the nine of you, as explained, taught you your culinary skills and all your potions combinations. Your mother, Akizuki, taught you how to use your witchcraft, how to feel the magic that seeped from your blood into your bones. Shibata (your personal favorite from the coven, aside from your familial obligation to your mother) was the one who gave you your grimoire for your twelfth birthday and put on the last page a quite interesting quote for you to have remembered her by: ‘The power of the stars are in your hands, hasu. Don’t burn yourself trying to harness it. P.S., I know I’m your favorite to sneak out to the village with.’
Reading the second half for the first time made you laugh when you were twelve. By the time you made your decision to leave, it made you sad.
Shibata was the only one who actually taught you anything about the world outside of the coven. She taught you the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between. She told you about different beliefs and ideologies people had and their versatile ways of life. And, inevitably, she told you about the world of Jujutsu, since your mother never actually delved deeper on why Jujutsu sorcerers were ‘vermin,’ as she liked to call them, and gave you a really, really basic rundown about how techniques and whatnot.
The coven truly cherished you, they really did. They loved and cared for you and raised you and helped you grow. They also wanted to fix you. And, as much, they envied you, and you once envied them because they envied you.
You saw things. Things that looked like they were there, you swore they were there—but they never were. One of the other witches presumed it was a gift as a byproduct of your mother’s excessive praying during her pregnancy.
They treated your visions like it was something prophesized by the dirt beneath their feet. They ignored your turmoil—your tears, your fear, your anguish and all else that ailed you because of those visions—and glorified it into something far prettier than what it was in its actuality.
Your mother appeared to have been the only one who took those visions seriously—as expected—and she never even called them visions. She called them something the other witches weren’t too keen about: hallucinations. She made it apparent to them that the things you saw were no pretty and flashy things to look at, or something that was a gift to the world, but horrible, scary things that you were far too young to even have seen.
They wanted to fix you. They envied you, they glorified you, but they wanted to fix you at the end of the day. They wanted to furnish you and shape you into what all the other witches were: people without hallucinations. You wondered what that exactly meant to them and what it should’ve meant to you.
The local townspeople from the thirty minute walk had no answer for it, you were sure, because they were normal people, and normal people knew nothing of what you saw and the things you knew.
It wasn’t until a fateful day in February of 2017 that you met a man on your way to the town. He was tall, talkative, strange in the way you were, wore bandages over his eyes, and was quite shocked when you didn’t know who he was. You wondered where he got such arrogance from, but he preached to you about a school he taught at and talked about your ‘cursed presence’ and ‘cursed energy level’ and other things you’d barely heard about.
The thing that had you hooked was that you would’ve been with other people—other kids your age, people to guide you who hadn’t been there to witness you at birth.
Two months later, you were talking with your mother about your final decision to leave.
The hut—yes, hut— felt colder than normal during the transition from spring to summer. At first it didn’t make much sense to you because the embers of a retired flame were glowing in the pit, and the tiniest streak of sun was shining in your eyes through the slim gaps in the roof. Along the walls, carefully curated with branches and clay at the bottom, were a myriad of things stacked along the sides: various books that were collecting dust and dirt, pots and pans that needed to be cleaned, a pile of extra firewood (though only small twigs and baby branches were kept in stock and very few chopped logs as exceptions), and a basket of leaves in one corner behind your mother, who had her arms crossed into a tight knot against her chest.
Then you remembered why the hut felt so feverishly cold.
Her stare could’ve cut clean through an iced-over lake if she wanted it to. The intensity would’ve shattered the ice and sent each split side running in a futile attempt to escape the scrutiny and the judgment in her eyes. Her glare sent a small shiver down your spine that had the same cold to it as something akin to chains locking around your feet and not even daring you to take a step away from her line of control. Mother birds and baby birds quivered in their nests and the spring-summer wind came to a stop.
Your breath, bated and strainingly patient all at once, came to a pause, too. She nearly paused your breathing just so she could revel in the opportunity to stare and scare you out of your decision.
“And how do you know this is real? How do you know this isn’t some trafficking scheme?”
“He knows Jujutsu. He knows it’s in me, he can help me!”
“You know very well that that Jujutsu he knows isn’t going to save you in any way. None of those mongrels can.”
“You can’t make me stay here forever, mother.”
“I can and I will!”
After that, you were sure the other women were eavesdropping outside the hut. Whether or not your mother cared or even noticed was the least of your worries, rather dwelling on the idea that they may have also been silently agreeing with her, just in a more sugarcoated manner with which they would’ve told you ‘Sweetpea, you really shouldn’t go. We can’t have you disappearing to be with people who can’t fix you, now, can we?’
It became disheartening, as you grew older, to know that your mother had nearly restricted you from any form of contact with anyone outside of the coven. At first, you thought nothing of it, so naïvely that you eventually thought it was just her job as your mother. But then, when you reached a certain age, you began to hear more and more stories from other women around the coven of other people they’d interacted with in the past, sometimes they were even younger than you when they happened, and it made you wonder why the only ‘stories’ you had to tell were all related to the coven or a mishap in your studies.
You were older. You were almost an adult, and the closer you got to being so, the more infuriating it became to stay cooped up around the same ten women all day every day every year.
“You can’t, and you won’t,” you argued back, firmly, but not whiny like a child or so rigid that it looked like it was an act.
She didn’t like that. It seemed that she wouldn’t like anything you said that day. You could tell by the way her frown deepened in a way that the gods would’ve held pity for whoever it was casted down upon.
“You think you’re in position to just do and say whatever you please?” She stepped closer, her arms slowly fell to her sides. “You’re a little girl. A sick little girl who doesn’t know what she’s talking about. How could you possibly be in any position to walk away like this?”
You weren’t so little anymore, you hadn’t been for a while. But the edge of her words was beyond enough to shave away the confident inches you’ve grown until you were as meek and small as she said you were.
“You won’t let me get better,” you wanted to sound a little more intimidating like your mother, but you had learned a while ago that you and her were nothing alike, so you scrapped your efforts as quickly as the thought crossed your mind. “You belittle me by telling me I’m not fit to walk away because I’m sick, but you make no effort to help me.”
“You know nothing of what you speak about—“
“But I do know, mother! All you ever do is talk to me about whatever it is that’s wrong with me, but you never seek a solution! If I’m so sick that I can’t leave this place, then why won’t you help me?!”
Your mother almost spat right in your face when she said it. “You think that man will help you better than I can?”
She didn’t like what you had to say about that.
“I know he can, because you haven’t helped me at all.”
Somewhere along the time lapse of your argument, she’d gained a greater sense of audacity than the days before leading up. Somewhere along the lapse, she stopped listening to what you had to say. Maybe she was never listening to begin with. Perhaps it’d always been that way.
Her ignorance only slapped you in the face with a scoff that left her lips.
Nothing beyond that was spoken from her. It was like she was laughing at a child who had told her an awful joke that had no punchline. It was angering as much as it was expected from her, but to hold any sort of expectation of your mother felt almost taboo, the anger unorthodox.
She couldn’t stop you even if she had anything else to say. You’d been set to leave two days later early in the morning.
The goodbyes from the rest of your coven were infinitely better in comparison to the silence from your mother. She’d been nowhere to be seen that Monday, reason being that she’d stayed in her rolled out bedspread and claimed she couldn’t bear to watch you go. The words were vice with a sickly tone and not even a turn to face the fellow witch who came to fetch her was seen.
Some of the witches were emotional, as expected. Being sent off and away to a school miles away from the tiny hut-village where you were to face many dangerous things, as well as things foreign to you, and a new life where the chances your survival always varied, on top of being shipped off to spend virtually the next four years with strangers and eventual friends the coven never knew seemed enough to have warranted a visceral reaction such as sobbing into the cloak of your uniform and already staining it with tears. All of it was welcomed, though. It’d practically been an innate thing to know they all cherished you, but it’d warmed you nonetheless to see them each personally send you off with a good luck and goodbye.
The morning was beautiful when you arrived at the school. The mountain made it better, and the few friends you made turned the horizon ethereal.
_________________________
APRIL 11TH, 2017. 8:31 AM. TOKYO OUTSKIRTS.
“Boring” was an understatement when it came to Gojo asking his four first years how their first day went.
Unfortunately (for those who were sour or not well versed in the ways of patience), they all had Gojo as their teacher since they were first years. There was no official hierarchy regarding the grade levels—first years, second years, up to the fourth years—as far as the high school went, but the upperclassmen had a privilege the first years didn’t, and that was that the upperclassmen didn’t have to deal with Gojo on an almost daily basis for the rest of their high school careers.
Maki told him it was boring. So did Panda and Toge—the boy with the cursed speech; you didn’t have quite the same answer, you were profoundly more optimistic about your first day in comparison to your new classmates. Maki was almost stunned by your influx of enthusiasm if not for having already been met with your bright attitude beforehand. Panda asked (and technically spoke for Toge, too, as he thought the same thing) why you didn’t think it was boring despite the fact the four of you sat in the same class all day, save for lunch which was in one of the common rooms (of which the four of you found was quite small in comparison to other rooms that you all had peeked into out of curiosity) for an hour, and ‘taught’—said lightly, as it was clear (for you and Maki, at least) that he wasn’t excellent at teaching— by the same guy from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon.
You told them that the first day wasn’t boring because it was an opportunity to get to know your teacher and your classmates for the day. Naturally, none of you got very far, as the four of you had only met barely an hour before the day actually started, and Gojo had talked for most of it, so your hopes weren’t astronomically high in that regard.
Maki thought you’d lied just to make Gojo happy, which she didn’t really see the point in doing so, as she herself and the other two had already been honest with their input. Panda and Toge thought you were being genuine because essentially there was no reason for any of them to doubt you other than their own teenage stigmata. Either way, Maki didn’t care all that much.
After the end of the first day, Panda and Toge went back to the boys’ dormitory hallway, and you and Maki went back to the girls’ hallway. None of you did anything in particular or noteworthy except for leaving when it was dinner time.
The next day wasn’t much better because it was basically the same. Only, Maki took it upon herself to look around the school for anything resembling a training room or something. She was already feeling cooped up, and she didn’t want to hang out with any of her new classmates as a way to burn energy.
Half an hour into searching, she found a sliding door cracked open. From what she saw, which was a simple mat and a bench on the side, she got curious, and slid the door open further.
Inside, on the bench saw before she went in, was an incense holder with a stick burning (which was an understatement, as it barely had an ember lit on its outer end and a small string of smoke flew upwards). Another one just like it was sitting several inches to its right, each one on opposite ends of the bench.
In the middle of the mat was you, sitting crisscrossed with a skirt akin to your uniform, only it was black instead of dark blue, and you’d long since changed from your uniform shirt to a purple shirt, buttoned up until the second to last one. Your arms were extended, bent at the elbow with your hands flat and your palms faced the ceiling.
The room was silent. Far too silent, much emptier than any quiet room Maki had ever been in.
As much as she knew that staring was rude, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Something taboo about it had pulled her attention. She’d never seen someone look so peaceful before; probably because she hardly had any idea of what a face of zen even looked like—but you didn’t have much of a clue either. You could only hope that the silence pleasantly filling your ears instead of macabre dreams filling your eyes was some resemblance.
Maki had seen people meditate before, she saw members of the Zenin clan doing it at the estate from time to time, though in various ways, some of which were similar to what you’d been doing. Of course, she never had time for all that, since she was once running on a busy schedule with chores or training to do from sun up to sun down and only rested during her minuscule meals she was fed and during her sleep (which she hardly got any of).
Though, she wasn’t sure if regular meditating included minute whispers of some foreign language.
Her instincts told her she was being rude by standing there and interrupting her classmate during her meditation. On one hand she wanted to leave. On the other hand she was tempted to kick you out so she could use the space for more productive things. An additional hand had grown itself for the sake of her internal debate and held in its palm the opportunity to stay and poke around out of sheer curiosity.
You’d made the decision for her before she could stop internally arguing with herself and realize she was subconsciously staring with a bewildered look in her eyes.
“I know you’re curious,” you told her like you’d pulled a quote from a book you’d so easily flipped open and read a thousand times. She frowned in an attempt to give you some reason to think otherwise, but she’d already given herself away.
“Why, cuz it’s all over my face?” Maki made her turn to quote you, shifting her weight onto one foot and crossing her arms.
You opened one eye and smiled at her, a crooked smile with fresh crow’s feet and a glint in your eye. “I was going to say it’s because you’re quiet.”
Maki’s eyes narrowed in addition to her frown. “My quietness means I’m curious, now?”
“Everyone expresses curiosity differently,” you opened your other eye and let your arms fall to the mat, your palms pushing you up to your feet, which Maki only then noticed were unoccupied by your boots that were next to the wall on your left. “You express yours with silence.”
“You’ll find that you’re very wrong,” Maki watched as you got up and walked over to your boots. Ironically, she was quiet after that. She made an effort to not come off as curious again as her gaze wandered once she remembered there was more to the room than you. Her attention leaned towards the incense sticks that still had the faint ember on the tips.
“Those are incense burners,” you called out as you were crouched down next to the wall and slipping one boot over your foot.
“I know what they are,” Maki frowned again as she stepped over to the bench. She looked around the surface and noted the lack of a lighter or a box of matches anywhere. She decided not to dwell on that and turned her head back over towards you. “Aren’t they used for religious stuff?”
“Some people use them in that manner,” you slipped your other boot onto your other foot and tied the laces together. “Others use it for meditations and such. They add to the atmosphere. I also use them because they smell good. Would you mind blowing those out for me, please?”
Maki leaned over and took the sticks out of their holders and blew a soft wind on them, effectively dimming the faint glow and leaving behind a stream of smoke emitting from the ends.
“I’ve never heard of people meditating while whispering shit,” Maki stood up straight, still holding the narrow sticks in her hand. “Usually I’ve seen them do it in pure silence.”
You smiled as you also stood upright, smoothing your palms over the silk of your skirt. “What kind of place did you come from where the people only meditated in silence?”
“That’s not really important,” Maki also reached for the incense holders as well with her other hand. She stepped across the training mat to the other side of the room and held both her hands out.
You thanked her while grabbing your things. “I guess it is important if you’re using that environment as a comparison.”
“It’s not,” Maki grunted. “And I’m sure other people do it, too.”
“Regardless, those ‘whispers’ were part of a spell for my wellbeing. Could you tell me how many other people you know who whisper incantations in Latin that benefit their state of mind whilst meditating?”
Maki bit down on her tongue in annoyance. She was sure there were people out there who did it, but she wasn’t about to get technical. Rather, she stayed quiet as her cheeks felt hot from slight embarrassment, but despite her internal discomposure, she hated to admit in her head that you had a point that she couldn’t really have argued with. So instead of answering (which would’ve only served to embarrass her even further), she let out a huff through her nose, a silent admission of defeat that brought an even brighter beam to your face.
She scrapped her thoughts with a light and barely perceptible shake of her head. “Was that the same Latin from yesterday? When you were ‘clearing the negativity from the air’ or some shit?”
“Something like that,” you shrugged your shoulders with a careless cock of your head. “They both were in Latin, but they were different incantations.”
Silence had fallen between you both. One, two, five moments passed, and neither of you said anything. You were contemplating between leaving the room or staying so Maki wasn’t alone. Maki had been watching you carefully and waiting for you to leave so she could finally let go of the breath she’d been holding.
You were so close to leaving—your foot was already out the doorway when you’d stopped and turned around slightly. Maki felt the shift in your attitude even when she’d turned around and all you saw was her back.
“Y’know, I could teach you, if you’d like.” You had given her a smile different from the one you gave her earlier. It appeared you had a different smile for every occasion.
Maki lifted her eyebrow when she turned her head back around to face you.
“Latin, I mean.”
“Why would I want to learn Latin? Isn’t that a dead language?”
You shrugged again, only the shoulder that Maki saw. “It’s not a bad skill to have.”
Maki stood there for a second as her eyes wandered off to some other part of the room. The corner wasn’t very entertaining to stare at. She pondered whether or not learning Latin was actually worth her time, but she decided against it since she didn’t really know anyone else who knew Latin other than you (and that wasn’t a club she’d been willing to join).
She brought her attention back to you. “I’m already preoccupied with my own ambitions. I don’t see how Latin would help me.”
“Alright,” you gave her a lopsided, wry smile and exhaled through your nose. “But I’d be more than happy to teach you anytime. You have–”
“I have only to ask, I know,” Maki frowned. Her cheeks grew warm again with irritation at the fact you still weren’t gone. She felt that you would’ve picked up by then that she was ready for some alone time after being around her classmates all day.
“Have a good day, Zenin!”
Maki’s eye twitched and her jaw clenched. She tried to simmer down her annoyance and instead exhaled sharply, stepping towards the door.
“Hey.” She called your name once she poked her head out from behind the door. You’d barely been five steps down the hall when she called. You turned around with a blank look.
She stared you down. “Don’t call me by my last name.”
It was your turn to quirk your eyebrow. “So, just Maki, then?”
“Yep.”
“May I ask, why?”
“No.”
The training room door shut with a quiet slam. You were left standing alone in the middle of the hallway, staring at the door in silence. It puzzled you, why Maki didn’t want to be called by her last name, but you supposed you wouldn’t really have liked it if anyone were to call you by your last name, something tied to your mother and your coven, so you weren’t in any position to question it.
You didn’t bother with looking for someone else to talk to. You were sure that Panda and Toge were doing their own things and talking to your teacher for entertainment seemed kind of weird and, not to mention, lame by all standards. So, in an effort to not go bored, you went back to your room.
_________________________
The days ticked by in a blur. Panda already took it upon himself to talk to you and Toge, making the three of you into friends. The only one missing was Maki, who looked like she wasn’t all that interested in talking unless she was in a good mood.
Friday eventually came around, though it seemed like it couldn’t have arrived fast enough. Friday afternoon heading into the weekend up until Sunday evening were apparently the only times of peace if no one was occupied by a mission. Back in your small village, you spent your weekends doing the same thing you were doing the week before—reading, entertaining yourself with your own abilities, or fantasizing about sneaking off to that ‘nearby’ town but rarely ever actually leaving, or spending time with the other witches.
It was your first Friday without them. You’d expected the change and you expected to have gotten attacked by your own illusions from nervousness of being away from home for a while. It surprised you when you managed to have gone a whole week away from the coven and not be terrorized by hallucinations.
Gojo was as talkative as ever that day. He talked from the start of the school day to the end. He’d talked so much that Maki got the impression he just liked hearing the sound of his own voice, because at one point he just began saying things that didn’t really make sense and was even laughing at his own nonsense. After a while, she gave up and eventually started talking to you again. (After another while, it turned into Gojo talking to himself.)
She’d asked you about a necklace you’d worn around your neck and said she hadn’t seen you wear it the whole week. You told her it was a pendulum you wore on Fridays as a personal tradition you made for yourself; one of the other witches, Shibata, gave it to you when you were ten as a gift for mastering your first spell (you’d made a leaf start levitating three inches above ground), and it happened to be on a Friday when she’d given it to you. To you, it was like having a piece of home with you no matter how far away it was.
Maki noted how you were strangely sentimental. It was strange to her because of the way you only wore that pendulum one day out of the whole week and held it gently to your forehead before you walked in the room before class started and after coming back from lunch. She concluded that maybe you were just strange in general. She supposed she should’ve guessed it sooner just because of the fact you were a witch.
You asked her if she had any traditions akin to your own in any matter. Maki assumed you’d left the regard to be ambiguous because of how she didn’t like being referred to by her family name. She noted again, and liked that you were also attentive. She told you she wasn’t really one for traditions and said it made her think of how traditional and disgustingly old fashioned her clan was, and that the thought sent a shiver up her spine.
Panda overhead your conversation about traditions and such and invited himself in with Toge butting in, too. You got the impression that they just wanted to be nosy.
“So you only wear that pendulum once a week?” Panda asked rather dumbly in Maki’s opinion. You lightly nudged her in the arm when you heard the snarky comment she made under her breath.
“Yup!” You smiled as you brought your hand up to your chest and clutched the pendulum over your white uniform shirt, cupping it and feeling its weight in your palm. “It feels odd for me to wear it everyday as if it were a casual item.”
“It’s also vulnerable if you wore it all the time,” Maki commented as she crossed her arms over her chest. “It would eventually become a liability if you wore it during a mission and such.”
“I would certainly hate to see it get damaged,” you let your hand fall back, bringing your arms up to your desk and resting your elbows on the surface.
A grin made its way across Maki’s face. “I bet that thing’s never gotten dirty since you first got it.”
You huffed out a quiet chuckle through your nose. “Well, it’s within my nature to like my things sanitized.”
“Salmon cod roe,” Toge held his phone up so the rest of you could see what he typed.
i’m kinda the same way with my scarf except i gotta wear this every day.
You raised a curious eyebrow. “Because of your cursed speech?”
Toge shrugged his shoulders, then he took his phone back. You, Maki and Panda all looked at each other for a moment in confusion like any of you had an idea.
“Cursed speech users have markings around their mouth and on their tongue,” Gojo spoke up right as Toge raised his phone up again for your table to see. All four of you looked at him for a second to acknowledge his presence, then back at Toge’s phone screen.
kinda. it’s just to hide my clan markings around my mouth cuz i don’t feel like explaining to outsiders what they are
You frowned softly, your eyebrows pushing together slightly as you nibbled on your bottom lip. “Inumaki, do you know sign language?”
Toge shook his head, his off-white hair juddered slightly with him and his arm retracted. “Mustard leaf.”
“I don’t either,” you leaned forward and rested your chin over your knuckles, your elbows propped on the surface of the table. “Would it inconvenience you any if we both took time to learn it together?”
Toge’s thumbs tapped softly on his phone.
u wanna learn sign language with me?? isn’t this form of communication much easier?
You brought your hand from underneath your chin and scratched the top of your head with your fingers. “I mean… I guess it’s easier.”
“I think learning sign language would be beneficial,” Panda sat down crisscrossed next to Toge’s desk; he was still sitting as tall as everyone else in their chairs. “You also have to take into consideration if and when you and she end up going on a mission together and you need to communicate more efficiently.”
“I don’t think Toge’s gonna have time to type on his phone in the heat of battle, either,” Maki pressed her cheek to her palm with her arm on the table, her finger tapping the side of her face. “So I guess that’s grounds for all of us learning sign language, then.”
You looked at Maki. “I was about to suggest it to you and Panda as well—”
“Hey!” Gojo appeared at the congregation of yours, Maki’s and Toge’s tables along with Panda sitting to the side. He stood in front of the collection of students before him with a massive grin on his face. None of you noticed him getting up, and you could’ve sworn that just a second ago he was at his desk staring at the wall.
“Hi, Mr. Gojo,” you gave him a smile whose size paled in comparison to his. “How are you, sir?”
Maki side-glanced him with narrowed eyes. “Is that gonna be a thing from now on?”
“If he wants to be included, let him!”
“He’s our teacher…”
“I’m actually pretty well, young padawan! I need you for, like, an hour,” Gojo pointed a long, pasty pointer finger in your face that surprisingly didn’t even shake with the soft blow of the air unit with how long it was. It was borderline uncanny.
You blinked. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” Gojo nodded with his excited platinum hair swishing back and forth with him. “You’re not in trouble. I just need to borrow you for a survey.”
“What kind of survey?”
Gojo stepped away from your collection of desks and walked towards the opened door at the front of the room. “Just a quick one.”
“Then why is it gonna take an hour?!”
“A chunk of that hour is gonna be spent walking towards Shoko’s office,” Gojo stopped at the door and stood by it with his hands in his pockets, seemingly waiting for you to get up and follow him. “Another chunk is gonna be us waiting for Shoko to actually do her job instead of playing tetris on her computer all day.”
“Isn’t Shoko the school’s resident nurse or something?” Maki raised an eyebrow, then looked at you as you pushed your chair back and stood up.
“I think so, which is kind of confusing for me,” you stepped out from behind your desk and pushed your chair back in place. “I’m not sick or anything…”
“It’s probably for an allergy test. Inumaki got one yesterday,” Panda chimed in.
“Nope! Though it’s probably gonna be her turn to get tested for that next week,” Gojo grinned again. “Can’t disclose it to anyone until we get to Shoko!”
You blinked, dumbfounded. “Is it a blood test or something?”
“Not quite. Even if you did guess correctly, I wouldn’t tell you that you did.” Gojo held his arm out next to the door. “Come along!”
You fixed your hood over your shoulders, sealing the button with its clasp over the bosom of your uniform shirt, and waved to the others. “Bye, guys!”
“Mustard leaf.”
“Bye.”
“See ya later!”
“Oh, and by the way,” Gojo added one more time before you got to the door. “The rest of class is dismissed! Can’t have you guys in an empty room without an adult around here.”
You stopped just before your foot left the threshold of the room and turned your head to look at the others, watching them get up from their spots, then smiled at them. “So I’ll see you guys at dinner, then?”
Panda held a thumbs up— or maybe a claws-up, considering he didn’t technically have thumbs— and Toge waved at you in return. Maki didn’t say anything.
“Come along, young padawan!”
You finally stepped out of the classroom and into the hallway, watching Gojo leave the door open for your other newfound friends. He stuck his hand back into his pocket and looked down at you.
You blinked again. “Are you gonna show me the way?”
“Oh, right!”
Gojo turned on his heel in the other direction, walking down the hall with his lanky legs and his straightened yet somehow silly posture. You followed behind him, fiddling with random things on you, like the corner of your hood and the buckle of your satchel around your waist, the button of your shirt, and eventually rubbing the ends of your nails over the surface of your thumbs and nibbling on your bottom lip (and sometimes the inside of your cheek).
The walk was as far as Gojo made it out to be, surprisingly enough. It seemed he had a habit of exaggeration, but getting from your classroom to Shoko’s office took as long as you thought. Though the walls looked like they’d stretched each time you got a step closer, and at times the afternoon sunlight peeking through the windows became blinding.
Gojo made small talk on the way there. He asked you if you were liking the school so far. You told him you were still getting used to it, but you didn’t hate it. He also asked if you were making friends pretty nicely even though he watched you and the others get along throughout the week. He scrapped that question by immediately skipping the answer you were about to give him and asked if you were getting homesick. On one hand, you were; for a few days you woke up half expecting to be back in your hut with your mother and ready for another day in your everyday life. On the other hand, being at the school was a breath of fresh air—literally and figuratively; the breeze that blew across the mountain felt nice to breathe in— with a better excuse of a bed than your old bedspread and more than acceptable food (and also quasi-new faces).
Naturally, you told him just straight up ‘yes’ despite the slight trivial inner conflict.
Eventually, you made it to Shoko’s office. In reality, it wasn’t much of an actual office; more like a pharmacy, a doctor’s office, and an autopsy room all in one. The room was white from the light that bounced off the walls, but the tiles on the walls themselves were a few shades darker—a few of them were chipped, too. The ceiling lights were bright, one of them had started to fizzle out and flicker a while ago, so there was a flicker in one corner of the room that was quite spooky. In the back of the room was an empty autopsy table; gray and aluminum and shining. In another back corner was a closet door with precisely one (1) stretcher and an IV pole and bag and a heart monitor.
Along the walls were two rows of gray cabinets, two on each side of the room (one up top and one on the floor), that held a mystery number of things, presumably stuff like latex gloves and popsicle sticks and hand wipes or cotton swabs and bottles of hydrogen peroxide (or just straight up alcohol) and boxes of bandaids and bandages.
To the right of the room was a desk that stuck out from the row of cabinets on the floor (or, more accurately, the really long countertop). On it was a basic computer with a keyboard plugged into it and a mousepad (and, obviously, a mouse) on the left. Behind the computer was a woman with brown hair who you assumed was—
“Shoko!” Gojo chirped happily as he held the door open for you, letting you go through after you held your pendulum to your forehead. “I have my beloved student here with me like you asked!”
“As a result, making the both of you late,” Shoko commented and peeked her head out from behind her monitor. “You were supposed to bring her here an hour ago, Satoru.”
“She’s here now, isn’t she?”
“I’m late to my own survey?”
“Doesn’t matter!” Gojo placed his hands on your shoulders and guided you to a chair in front of Shoko’s desk, letting you sit down and get comfortable.
You looked between the two of them. “So, what’s the survey about?”
Shoko glared at him. “You told her it’s a survey?”
Gojo shrugged with his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t wanna scare her.”
“At least you’re considerate,” Shoko sighed, rolling her office chair out from behind her desk with her feet. “Alright. Gojo sort of lied to you. It’s not really a survey—at least not like a questionnaire or whatever. I just need a blood sample from you and a spit sample.”
You gulped quietly, looking between Gojo and Shoko again, noticeably more nervous than before.
Shoko raised an eyebrow. “Have you ever gotten your blood drawn before?”
You curled and uncurled your toes and fiddled with your fingers. “No…”
“It’s not too bad if you don’t freak out,” Shoko stood up from her chair and walked over to the closet, pulling the door open and looking inside. “Satoru, can you pull the stretcher out for me while I go next door and grab a blood pressure pump?”
“What a pain,” Gojo griped, but he complied anyway and moved to the closet and pulled out the stretcher, old and balding wheels quietly squeaking against the tile floor as he rolled it out. He left it next to the autopsy table away from the wall.
Gojo patted the cushion (said lightly because it wasn’t much of a cushion and more like cheap foam with plastic around it) with his hand and a smile. “Hop on, kiddo.”
“Does anyone else get this kind of treatment?” You questioned nervously as you stepped around Shoko’s desk and the autopsy table. You swallowed quietly before you eventually climbed onto the stretcher after staring at it and hoping it wouldn’t open up and swallow you whole as a trap.
“The others don’t have any mental issues that I know of,” Gojo began stroking his chin again and started brooding in an attempt to humor you. “So you are the only one who gets all this special attention!”
“I don’t see how this is special,” you extended your legs on the length of the stretcher, flattening and smoothing out your skirt. “I’m being drained of my blood!”
“It’s only a pint,” Gojo stopped brooding, removing his hand from his chin and resting it on the handlebar next to you. “It’ll be over and done with in, like, twenty minutes.” His smile widened into another cheeky, toothy grin. “And then you’re free! Although I think you’ll need lots of fluids and snacks after that.”
You pondered for a moment. On one hand it didn’t sound so bad when Gojo said it wouldn’t even take half an hour—but then it was about to be twenty minutes of an artificial vampire draining you through your arm. On the other hand, you were still thinking about how nobody else was getting their blood drawn. Your doubts were only reinforced when Gojo mentioned the others not having ‘any mental issues.’
You had to keep an open mind. You couldn’t let it cloud your mind like many other things.
I think I need another meditating session after this.
“I haven’t abandoned you,” the door opened, revealing Shoko carrying a blood pressure pump in one arm with a few juice boxes in her hand and two small bags hanging off her fingers and blue latex gloves on her hands. “You might need this before we start,” Shoko raised her arm and gestured to the juice boxes in her hand. “I’ll give you more once we’re done.”
“Mr. Gojo said it should only take twenty minutes,” you said as Shoko got closer. She circled the autopsy table and stood next to you on the stretcher, setting the bags beside you.
“Ideally, yeah,” she handed you the juice boxes. “But that’s if you have, like, a textbook vein and BPI. And that’s also if we can even find a vein.”
“So I guess there’s a chance you won’t be drawing any blood, then?”
“Sure,” Shoko shrugged and unstrapped the pressure pump. She asked which arm you wanted her to draw from and you chose your non-dominant arm.
“Alright. Lose the hood for me.”
You shedded your hood from around your shoulders and spread it across your lap, resting your hands on top of it.
“Alright, you’re gonna feel a bit of pressure around your bicep. That’s normal. Just relax and don’t move for me, yeah?”
You nodded briefly, offering Shoko a polite smile as she wrapped the strapping around your arm, sticking the velcro together and attaching a pump to the tube extending out from the strapping. Her hand squeezed the pump slightly, sending air to the wrapping around and squeezing your bicep.
There was a profound discomfort in your arm from the tight grip. It was hard not to move in an attempt to break free from the hold around you that simultaneously had you glued to the chair. The rest of your body felt hot while your arm felt cold, presumably because of the pressure Shoko was pumping.
“Not bad,” Shoko eventually finished, letting the pressure dissipate after she finished squeezing. “Alright. It’s time to roll up your sleeve, now.”
“At least you know you’re healthy,” Gojo commented, and it reminded you that his hand was still on the handlebar next to you. The thought was sort of comforting.
“The worst of it’s about to start,” Shoko took out a needle from one of the bags, attaching it to another tube. She fished through the same bag again and took out a small foam grip, placing it in your hand. “Squeeze this three times and hold on the last squeeze.”
You squeezed it as she said and watched as your arm flexed while you balled up your fist, clutching tightly onto the grip. Shoko’s fingers patted around, feeling for a vein and holding two fingers down while she looked through the bag again and pulled out a small pack of alcohol swabs. She ripped it open after taking her hand away from your arm and gently dabbed the swabs around your arm.
“I don’t suppose you have any hobbies, do you?” Shoko asked as her hand holding the needle inched closer to the now numb arm. You looked away and up at her.
“Some, yeah,” you nodded again. “Sometimes I like to read through my grimoire. I also like meditating and walking around the mountain and collecting herbs for teas and other things.”
“Witches always have fascinated me,” Shoko gave you a small smile, then glared up at Gojo. “Do you know any spells? Please tell me you’re capable of turning this guy into a toad.”
A hearty chuckle made its way out of you, and you felt a small prick in your arm as the needle slid in nearly unnoticed. Shoko’s smile came back as she listened to the lack of whines and the abundance of laughter coming from you. A stream of crimson filled the tube and flowed down into another bag that was plugged in a while ago while you weren’t paying attention, filling it slowly but steadily.
“Keep squeezing that foam,” Shoko tilted her head towards the grip in your hand. She took out a small Spiderman bandaid and taped it to the needle in your arm. “It’ll keep the blood flow steady.”
“Thank you for talking me up,” you glanced down at the tape stuck to your skin and gently squeezed the foam. “I barely felt it.”
“That was mainly the alcohol numbing it out,” Shoko plucked her gloves off from her fingers since the tips on one of the fingers had a hole in it from her nail poking through. “You’re gonna start feeling hot in a few minutes, so I’m gonna run and grab you a wet towel to lay on your forehead.”
“I’m assuming that’s lightheaded-ness?”
“Yup. Just lay back and relax.”
Shoko left the room again. It was silent for a bit, save for the sound of the foam groaning beneath the pressure of your fingers. You wondered what your other friends were doing—maybe they were in the common room or in their own dorms. Maybe Toge was outside in the garden he found and liked to take care of. Maybe Panda was running laps around campus or something. Maybe Maki was in the training room again using the time alone to workout or spar with a dummy—it seemed that was the only thing that girl ever did, because every time you went to the training room for something, she was in there either doing pushups or jump ropes or crunches or swatting at a dummy with a training stick. Sometimes you checked a few times a day and she was still there hours after you’d first looked.
The lightheaded feeling came like Shoko promised. Your head started to feel warm and simultaneously cold, too, swinging your it from side to side in an attempt to cool off and warm up. It almost gave you whiplash, switching between cold and hot and cold again. The warmth blended into a stinging cool that washed over your face and could’ve singed your skin if it were any cooler, and then the heat came back as ephemerally as it vanished, sending you in a temperature induced spiral.
You weren’t quite sure if shortness of breath was normal, either, since Shoko hadn’t mentioned it. You made a mental note to ask her whenever she came back. Or maybe you didn’t—you’d already forgotten.
Regardless, you kept squeezing the foam thing in your hand and kept swinging your head to and fro like you were counting sheep and made yourself dizzy in the process (well, maybe that was bound to come, anyways). Shoko came back after what felt like forever with a small, damp towel placed on your forehead to cool you off.
Eventually, after staring at the ceiling for a bit longer than the twenty minutes Gojo had promised and watching weird patterns and shapes form in your vision (none of which seemed like hallucinations and more like straight up dizziness), Shoko finally plucked the needle out from your arm and bandaged you up and handed you another juice box. The other ones, you hadn’t been drinking; you weren’t really focused on that when you felt like your skin was being replaced with icy-hot chemicals and your life force was being drained from your body.
Soon enough, Shoko sent you back with her own assistance, of course, after you threw up in the bathroom and nearly passed out. Once you felt like you were feeling a tiny bit better, and the bar was extremely high so you still felt like your stomach was full of cotton, and finally drank all the juice boxes she gave you, she walked you back to your dorm since she didn’t trust Gojo to do it well enough himself.
“Drink plenty of water” this and “no heavy lifting for the next few days” that and stuff about “eat a good meal tonight”. Honestly you were paying more attention to the general direction the dining area was in more than what Shoko was telling you on the way back to your room. You’d passed Maki in the hall while you were walking, (she paid you no mind) and you kindly asked Shoko if you could walk with Maki instead. Naturally, you couldn’t, and Shoko dropped you off at your room and then you snuck out with tea leaves and a mug at the ready anyways.
“Maki!” you whisper-yelled like Shoko was secretly listening for you from around the corner. Spoiler: she wasn’t.
Maki stopped walking and turned around at the sound of her name, looking for whoever it was that wanted her attention. She spotted you and raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Are you heading to the dining room?” You raised your voice back to its normal pitch, catching up with Maki by slightly picking up your walk speed.
“No…?” She frowned. “It’s not even four yet.”
“Oh,” you looked down at the tea leaves cupped in the pit of your mug. “I’m still going. I feel absolutely famished.”
Maki quickly glanced down at your arm, whose sleeve was still rolled up and had a red bandage wrapped around the ends of your forearm and bicep, then looked back at your face. “You got your blood drawn?”
“I did,” you sighed quietly. “My first time ever.”
“You look pretty okay after your first time getting blood sucked out of you.”
You chuckled sheepishly, your eyes drifting up towards Maki’s face. “That’s because you didn’t watch me vomit afterwards.”
“And you’re still hungry?” Maki questioned, and you would’ve thought it was judgmental if it weren’t for the humor beneath it. She had a knack for blending incredulity in with amusement and judgment into one canvas, it seemed.
“I can’t reject food if my brain says I need it,” you shrugged and started for the dining room again, shifting the tea leaves at the bottom of your mug. “Regardless, I’m not going for food. I’m just heating up some tea for myself because my stomach is, in fact, quite upset.”
Maki clicked her tongue and found herself following after you, nodding like she understood. “Are those leaves enchanted like the ones you gave Toge on Monday?”
You smiled and looked at her as she caught up. “No.” You gently shook your mug again.
Maki thought for a moment, then decided she didn’t care enough to keep asking, then changed the subject. “So that means no working out for you, then?” she gestured her head to the bandage around your arm.
“Not for a few days, no,” you carelessly shrugged one shoulder. You both turned a corner. “But I’m not really missing out. I’m in no rush to invade that training room now that you’ve basically dominated it.”
“Dominated it?” Maki frowned again, glaring at you. “I just use it often because I, for one, actually like to stay in shape. How is that ‘dominating’ the training room?”
You quickly turned your head to look at Maki and blinked, then swallowed quietly. “I’m sorry if that offended you,” you offered her an apologetic smile and furrowed your eyebrows. “I just meant that you’re very intense with your training, that’s all.”
“I guess that’s better than not taking it seriously,” Maki shrugged, then glanced at you again, less intimidating and more curious. “But if it matters that much, you could just walk in and join. I don’t really care.”
“That’s nice of you,” your smile changed and flashed into a brighter grin than the guilty look that nearly made Maki gag. “But I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
Maki bit down on her tongue—a habit she developed when she didn’t know what to say—and stayed quiet for a moment. She thought and thought, and apparently contemplated long enough that the silence lasted until you both got to the dining area. She frowned when she found herself standing next to you at the sink.
“I’ve heard people complain about the beginning always being the hardest part,” Maki grumbled as she took a step away from you, effectively gaining her own space. “That wasn’t really true for me.”
“Well, then I suppose you’re quite lucky,” your smile that seemed neverending in that moment twinkled at her, watching her as she hopped onto the counter next to the sink and swung her legs.
Maki sat quietly as the back of her feet repeatedly hit the cabinet beneath the counter. Lucky. You called her lucky. Her of all people. It made her blood boil for you to think of her as anything of the sort—lucky, gifted, fortunate, felicitous, fortuitous—in any way.
And you thought of her as lucky with a fucking smile on your face. She loathed how clueless you were.
She bit down on her tongue again. This time to keep her from saying something she wanted to say.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said as simply as she could. Apparently it wasn’t that simple, because you were side eyeing her while you were turning on the faucet.
“I can’t imagine a world where physical prowess is deemed unfavorable,” you murmured, bringing your mug to the now hot water and filling it up. Maki balled up her fists as she watched you.
“I suppose that does sound pretty asinine from an outsider’s point of view,” Maki retorted with a roll of her eyes, unclenching her fists and letting them rest on the edge of the counter. She muttered something under her breath that she didn’t care about whether or not if you heard it (truthfully, she thought you needed to).
You looked at her again and offered her a supportive look. “Well, regardless. I’m sure you’ll be proving the people wrong who are saying physical prowess is unfortunate.”
Maki closed her eyes and sighed sharply. If only it were that easy.
“Whatever, I’m going back to the training room,” she hopped off the counter, not even sparing you a glance as you picked up your mug by its tiny handle and gently blew on it.
You turned around carefully, making sure your tea didn’t spill, and watched as Maki started to leave. Then you got to the doorway, touched your pendulum to your forehead, and followed after her.
“Are you in need of a hobby?” You asked as you caught up with her. You took a sip of her tea and turned a corner.
Maki glared at you again. “This is my hobby.”
“Training is not a hobby, Maki.”
“Says who?”
“Says me,” you swallowed quietly and looked at her. “Do you do anything else?”
Maki clicked her tongue and let out a quiet exhale of exasperation. “I go to my classes.”
“And what else?”
Maki poked her cheek with her tongue, speeding up and quickly swerved another corner. “I read. Occasionally.”
You chuckled as you matched her pace, sipping your tea so that it didn’t spill. “First off, going to your classes isn’t a hobby, either. Second of all, what kind of books are you reading?”
“A book,” Maki corrected, opening a door once you both reached the end of the hallway and held it open for you. You thanked her and followed her outside and into another building of which you opened the door for her in return.
“So, what kind of book is it that you’re reading?”
Maki groaned. “Why are you so persistent?”
“Because I care,” you beamed at her from behind your mug. Maki swore she could’ve socked the smile right off your face if it didn’t mean an anti-bullying presentation from Gojo and Principal Yaga the following Monday.
“Right,” Maki nodded her head. “Cuz your heart’s just as big as can be, ain’t it?”
“I’m not sure being kind is something you’re supposed to chastise someone for…”
“Okay, fine,” Maki swung open the training room door and walked in, dragging out a dummy from the corner with one hand and bringing it out to the center. “What do you think I should make time in my schedule for?”
“A number of things,” you sat on the bench closest to the door with your mug still in your hand. “What sounds appealing to you?”
Maki grabbed a training stick from the collection on the wall mount in the front of the room. She paused as she thought for a moment, then kept going and stood in front of the training dummy. “Hitting things.”
“I suppose that’s a form of taking your anger out,” you leaned back and crossed your legs, smoothing your skirt out with your free hand and bouncing your leg slightly. “But unfortunately for you, you still need an actual hobby. One that doesn’t involve bludgering your knuckles, in particular.”
Maki frowned in confusion as she took the first swing at the dummy, watching it bounce back from the force of her hit. “But I’m using a training sword.”
“Right now, you are. But I’ve walked past when the door’s left open and I’ve seen blood stains on that same dummy,” you pointed your pinky finger towards the dummy on the mat.
“You’re very distracting.”
“Don’t you suppose that’s the point?”
Maki took a few more swings in silence for a moment, letting your words sink in as she pointlessly swatted at a dummy that couldn’t feel the anger behind her hits but still fell to the floor like a fallen soldier time and time again.
It wasn’t very often she gave up on something. She liked to brand herself as someone who was absurdly dedicated, not stubborn because that was a flaw, and someone who liked to stick to her plan and hardly ever took a different route. So her time spent training was very sacred to her, and having someone like you so whimsically blabbering and distracting her wasn’t very welcome. But she couldn’t very well throw you out because that would’ve meant proving your point. Either way, she was at a loss.
So she sighed, very, very loudly, and very sharply to the point the shrillness of her wind could’ve cut through the dummy before her, and put her training stick back on the wall mount. So maybe, she was stubborn.
“Are you gonna suggest I take up gardening like Toge?” Maki griped and turned around to look at you and half expected a triumphant look on your face at the sight of her begrudging defeat. Instead she found a patient smile and a warm aura.
You shrugged lightly. “Possibly,” you took a sip and tilted your head back, finishing what was left of your tea. “Does that interest you?”
“Not really,” Maki murmured, watching you as you watched your tea leaves at the bottom of your mug. You frowned deeply for a moment, your eyebrows forming a crease in your forehead for a second before you looked up at her with a reinforced beam.
“Well, luckily the bounds of hobbies aren’t restricted to just gardening and reading.”
Maki flashed you a fake smile that earned a chuckle out of you. She huffed and brushed her hair back, adjusting her ponytail before starting for the door.
She walked back in once she noticed you weren’t following her.
“Are you just gonna sit in silence?”
“I was inspecting my tea leaves,” you uncrossed your legs and got up from the bench, walking towards the door.
Maki got curious and asked before you got the idea to call her out. “What’s in them?”
“It’s not important,” you shook your mug again, watching the tiniest drop of remaining tea swish around slightly. “I just like observing them.”
Maki didn’t comment on how closely you’d been observing them a few minutes ago the first time with a look that didn’t exude whimsy, but she knew it was probably nothing. But it was still probably something. Though it was probably none of her business.
Instead, she snorted quietly. “Is observing tea leaves a hobby of yours?”
“You’re quite the comedian,” you rolled your eyes lightheartedly. “No. It’s a thing some witches do after they finish their tea. Some of us read our tea leaves as a way to perceive the future.”
“So like, fortune telling?”
“Of the like,” you shrugged, then looked at her with a knowing gleam in your eyes. “I could teach you, if you’d like.”
“Are you gonna keep offering to rope me into your witchy crap until I finally cave?”
“No,” you chuckled softly through your nose and turned a corner with her. “I just like the idea of sharing my knowledge with others. A wise woman once said ‘if you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it.’”
Maki nodded again, speeding down to the end of the hall and opening the door and holding it for you. You thanked her and stood outside, looking around.
The air wasn’t as hot as it had been earlier when Maki and the others were leaving the classroom. Panda thought he would’ve melted and Toge almost did. Maki prided herself in being the only one who didn’t actively complain about the heat, though she didn’t exactly appreciate the sweat tickling the back of her neck.
“Where are we heading?”
“Nowhere.”
“I have an idea.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do!” You hopped up and down excitedly, beaming right in Maki’s face. “Do you mind if we go back to the dining room, then to my dorm? I’d like to rinse off my mug first.”
Maki wasn’t sure if she wanted to decline. She heard through the grapevine that you had gifted privileges that allowed you to have all sorts of decorations in your room and that your room itself looked really cool. But she also heard you were placed in the back of the hallway for a reason, too. She wondered that if she went, her nosy tendency would’ve been satisfied.
“I suppose it’s not an inconvenience,” Maki started in the direction of the building across from her. “What are we gonna do in your room?”
“Come up with a list of potential hobbies for you, duh,” you answered simply like Maki wasn’t supposed to ask questions after that.
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sounds really fun.”
“Don’t gripe!” you chirped as you opened the door for her and let her go first. She thanked you as you closed the door. “You’ll be glad later on in the year when you’re not training and you happen to not be bored.”
“Training doesn’t really bore me—” she looked back at you and noticed your walk speed faltering a bit. “Are you—”
“I’m alright,” you huffed and caught up to her, giving her a not-so convincing reassuring smile. “I’m just a little winded. Probably from all the blood loss earlier.”
“Right,” Maki narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Come on. The sooner we get to your room, the sooner you can lay down.”
“I said I’m fine,” you gripped your mug tighter. “It’s not like I’m about to pass out.”
“Don’t jinx yourself, now.”
“I didn’t think you believed in that stuff.”
Maki frowned slightly. “It’s just a saying.”
You grinned at her. “And I’m just messing with you.”
“It seems like that’s all you’ve been doing since you saw me earlier.”
“You’re entertained, no?”
“I guess… not really.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” your smile softened and you nudged her elbow with yours. “I’m not sure if anyone’s ever told you that.”
Maki glared at you as your elbows touched. She wasn’t all too keen on getting comfortable yet, and she had no hindsight to rely on but she knew she wasn’t going to be for a while. Regardless, she said nothing and just sighed quietly.
You quickly turned a corner and walked back to the dining room, touching your pendulum to your forehead and entered. Maki waited outside while you rinsed out your mug and listened to the faucet running quietly.
“I think I’m supposed to take this off soon,” you bent your arm and looked at the bandage still wrapped around it. “It’s starting to feel weird.”
“So take it off, then.”
“I can’t yet,” you looked at Maki and started walking. “I don’t think it’s been an hour yet.”
“Did Shoko explicitly say take it off after an hour?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh,” Maki looked around for a clock that might’ve conveniently happened to be hanging on a wall nearby and found none. Neither of you had watches, so you were left to make a guess.
“I’ll take it off later,” you swapped your mug into your other hand. “Have you been thinking of potential hobbies?”
“Jesus, you’re still on that?”
“Why would I not be?”
“I thought you were joking!”
“What?! Why would I joke about my friends’ hobbies?!”
Maki stayed quiet for a moment, then she looked at you. “So we’re friends now?”
You shrugged. “I mean, yeah? Unless you don’t want to be.” You nibbled on your bottom lip, looking around the hallway nervously.
“I’d call it acquaintances for now.”
“Regardless, I do actually care, believe it or not.”
Maki didn’t say anything. She couldn’t really wrap her head around the fact you seemingly cared so much about what the people around you did with their free time—all the concern around them having hobbies and not being bored—after knowing them for not even a week. Maki wondered if you were raised like that, because there was no way in her mind that anyone was just naturally as selfless as you were.
You both walked to your room in silence the rest of the way there. The silence wasn’t really uncomfortable, just an active presence between you two, a third party. Maybe that’s when it became uncomfortable. Then Maki wasn’t so interested in seeing your room anymore. She figured she’d see it sooner or later, but she would’ve preferred if it weren’t in that exact moment when she walked in.
Her thoughts changed when she saw the textbook definition of a witch’s hut on the inside.
Basically everything that was explained in fairytales was in your room. You even had an altar! She definitely didn’t have one of those. There was only one thing missing.
“Where’s your cauldron?” Maki joked, hesitantly stepping in and looking around your walls. You had quite a few tapestries hanging, ranging in different colors like blue, green, purple, red, gold, black and brown. Honestly, it gave your room much more personality than hers.
“Ha, ha,” you laughed without mirth, then glanced at Maki with a smile. “Cauldrons are a cultural thing. I also don’t have the room for one.”
“That makes sense,” Maki nodded. She inhaled for the first time since she walked in and smelled the scent of burning incense—a woodsy, earthy, smoky smell filled her nose as she breathed in. She looked around and saw a stick burning on your nightstand.
“You just leave that burning while you’re gone?”
“No, silly,” you walked over to your nightstand, your hand hovering over the tip of the narrow stick. “Watch this,” you waved your hand slowly over the stick, and the ember went out instantly, leaving behind only a river of smoke floating upwards. You waved your hand over it again and the ember came back, a gentle glow on the end of the incense.
“So it’s magic?” Maki observed as your hand stayed hovered over the ember.
“Yep,” you nodded briefly. “One of the most basic forms ever.”
“What’s the fundamentals?”
“Making a leaf levitate. That’s from personal experience, by the way.”
Maki chuckled heartily. She looked around your room some more and noticed a book sitting on another nightstand on the other side of your bed. It was no small thing, either, nor did it look like it was released in recent years. It was large, with a crazy looking amount of pages after judging by how thick it was, the edges were discolored and other parts were faded. One of the letters was replaced by a hole in the velvet covering, and the pages themselves were sort of manilla looking, similar to the walls of the training room.
“How old is this thing?” Maki inquired, pointing to the book on the nightstand. You looked over and laughed quietly.
“Oh, the grimoire? It’s been around for centuries. One of the witches from my coven passed it down to me as a gift.”
“So this thing’s pretty darn sacred,” Maki commented. “That’s actually kinda cool.”
You stepped around her and walked over to the nightstand, flipping open the cover and revealing the very first page which was an index of previous owners that dated all the way back to sometime during feudal Japan. The most recent name was, obviously, your own, with several gaps left to fill.
“This grimoire will get passed down to someone else eventually, after the years pass,” you closed it and set it back on your nightstand. “I don’t imagine it’ll be through familial rights.”
“I wouldn’t want some snotty kid getting their grubby hands on something so ancient, either.”
You tilted your head back and barked out a laugh, your shoulders shaking with your momentum.
“You’re funny.”
“I try.”
You paused and looked at Maki again, knowingly. “Would you wanna try learning? Magic, I mean.”
Maki raised an eyebrow incredulously and looked at the grimoire with a suspicious eye, then back at you. “Can you seriously picture me wearing a witch’s hat and turning people into rats?”
You rolled your eyes and sat on the edge of your bed. “It counts as a hobby, you know.”
“Right,” she scoffed. “I think I’ll stick to training my ass off until you get any better ideas.”
You gave her another smile. Maki had a feeling she’d be seeing a lot of that throughout her high school career. “The offer’s always open, you know.”
“And I only have to ask, right?”
“Absolutely.”
Maki scoffed again automatically and shook her head. She turned towards your door and prepared to leave and stopped just outside the doorway. She shut her eyes and dropped her head, sighing sharply before walking away, closing the door behind her.
She had a feeling you were going to be a nuisance for the year. And the other years after that. That thought made her blood boil again. She hated it.
She couldn’t let herself be distracted by such a nice thing again.
_________________________
awh! third chapter after a month and a half! yay! also is anyone going to catch onto the fact this entire story is going to be one giant yellowjackets reference.
tag(s): @terezhq