First time asking, kinda nervous ihih.
Ik that you make mostly girl characters.
But im a dude, so if u wanna do it, could you make male caracter x Hajime Kashimo plssss?
Kashimo x journalist!reader (˶˃𐃷˂˶) p1 | p2
cw: violence, blood, physical restraint, non-sorcerer!reader
note: hi, yess, please note that i have no experience in journalism and might include silly hollywood-level stereotypes. hope you like it <3
“In the weeks following the Shibuya Incident, similar anomalies began appearing across Japan. These events, initially dismissed as unrelated disasters, share key characteristics: abrupt spatial containment or restricted zones. Unexplained—“
“Oh, so you plan on boring me to death.” Kashimo’s voice interrupts your monologue. He’s impatient and not someone who can stay still in one place for long. Too bad.
He is forced to stay still now. You’ve trapped him.
Never in his life has Kashimo ever been in such a situation, tied up and sealed to one spot, by a non-sorcerer no less.
The cursed bandages snake around his wrists, up to his elbows, pulled taut high into the air by seemingly nothing. It’s the cursed carpet under him that functions as a magnet to those fabrics, repelling the ones on his arms and attracting the ones around his feet. The weight around his ankles is greater, practically locking Kashimo to the ground. He pants from how hard he had struggled against the seals, and the more he did, the more it messed him up. Like running a marathon, with shoes and gloves spiky on the inside.
“Does the story sound familiar to you?” you ask. The text was written by you, a paragraph taken from the draft for an article that would cover everything. You’re a determined journalist, eager to uncover the truth. Weird things have been happening, and they need to be answered. Your methods are a bit questionable though.
“Shibuya Incident?” The man in front of you tilts his head, then furrows his brows. “No.”
You find that hard to believe. Everyone in Japan has heard of it. It was classified as a terrorist attack, and it was all over the news. You, however, knew something was off. No organization or country took claim of the attack, and the reports made it sound too strange.
“And if you let me go,” Kashimo adds, “I won’t kill you.” Bold words from a man currently at your mercy, more or less.
The sorcerer is harmless for now. You’ve learned a few things by sneaking into restricted areas and obtaining redacted material. A journalist with connections in the government is a dangerous thing.
The reports themselves don’t state anything about magic or supernatural things outright, they describe incidents in a neutral way while leaving certain things up to the imagination.
“I will, if you tell me more about whatever is going on,” you reply, pulling a chair close and sitting down on it as if you had all the time in the world. It’s almost insulting to Kashimo that a non-sorcerer would be that relaxed around him.
Then again, you’re just a naive boy grasping in the dark, he thinks. You have no idea what he could do, what you’re getting yourself into. Your ignorance will be your end.
Kashimo watches you for a long moment, eyes narrowed. Then, unexpectedly, he laughs. His eyes, mostly hidden behind his messy bangs, gleam with something akin to bewilderment, or maybe it’s just simple madness.
“You’ve done your research,” he says, rolling his shoulders against the invisible pull of the cursed bindings. The bandages tighten in response, humming faintly with restrained energy. “But you’re just a brat. You shouldn’t put your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
To be honest, Kashimo couldn’t care less about your little exposé or civilians learning about the existence of jujutsu. The reason he is refusing to tell you anything is pure spite.
An annoying nuisance, trying to get his way? Not on his watch.
“That’s kind of my job,” you reply, leaning forward on the chair, elbows propped up on your knees. “Why are people killing each other?”
Kashimo scoffs. To describe the act of performing jujutsu, learning the opponent’s weaknesses, and measuring each other’s strength as mere mindless killing is bordering on blasphemy in his book. Each sorcerer has their own reason for joining the Culling Game, and each of them has their own understanding of jujutsu.
“It has to be more than just people going crazy, right?” you ask, prompting the man to disagree or agree with you.
“Your psychological tactics won’t work on me.”
You rub your temple thoughtfully. You’d have chosen someone easier to crack if you could, but given how dangerous these people could be, preparing the trap was your safest option. Seducing people is just beneath you.
Being bait was kind of exciting, though. You needed someone arrogant enough to just let themselves be lured into the apartment, where you’ve prepared the bigger seal under the carpet. Someone weaker might have been more cautious. You’ll make do.
“It’s not like I’m torturing information out of you,” you retort with a shrug and crumple up the printed copy of your article’s draft.
It lands against the sorcerer’s forehead and bounces back to your feet. Kashimo does not appreciate the gesture, and his eyes glint harsher now.
“Of course not. You don’t have it in you,” he replies and blows some hair out of his face with a huff of air. The cyan locks sway to the side and end up in a slightly different position than before, making his bangs uneven.
His limbs are getting tired and numb from being restrained for so long. It’s a mystery to him how you’ve managed to build such a strong trap with little knowledge. There have to be conditions you’re fulfilling.
Pain reflection? You don’t seem out of breath or to be struggling in any way. Time limit maybe? You don’t look impatient either.
If Kashimo could actually see the symbols used, he’d know.
“So what’s your game here?” Kashimo decides to be straightforward. “You can’t make me talk with force you don’t have.”
The way your lips curl into a small smile next is not a good sign.
“Your name is Kashimo, right? You’re reincarnated, and you possess electric powers.”
So you have basic information about him. So what? Kashimo figures his identity was documented by lucky bastards who got away from him. He was the strongest of his time, after all, his abilities had to be written about.
The man manages to shrug, barely. His voice drops, now coming from deep in his lungs rather than his throat.
“You don’t know me, non-sorcerer,” he growls and leans a bit forward in his position while still being held up by his arms with an invisible force. His head hangs low in front of you and his shoulders twist. “You don’t know what I wa—“
Kashimo’s pupils shrink down to the size of needle pins as he suddenly zeroes in on your face. You don’t flinch away. The eye contact is intense, and this close, you can notice the faint lightning marks on Kashimo’s lower eyelids. They make him look quite pretty.
Then, the pupils dilate so wide, they make the sorcerer look like he’s high on something very stimulating. The sight causes your heart to stutter, just a bit.
You really did do your homework, Kashimo thinks.
“What if I told you I have information about him?”
“Tell me—“ Kashimo chokes out, now struggling against the hold of the seals with full force. It’s not a bluff; it can’t be, and how you even know the man’s desires is a mystery unaddressed. Kashimo’s limbs burn, he’s pretty sure they’re going to bleed from the friction, but he does not care. “Non-sorcerer, tell me!”
“Haaah…?” You drawl, “Is that a deal then?”
“Yes!” Kashimo yells out, blood spilling from his mouth from how much the trap is pulling and squeezing at his insides too now. It drips down in thick splatters to the beige fabric of the carpet. Kashimo shakes from tension, anticipation, and god knows what else, like those Chihuahuas you’ve seen on the internet. You should’ve led with Sukuna.
“I’m only here because of him,” Kashimo finally replies to your initial question with mad excitement in his voice. Like when an obsessed artist is gushing about their work. “He’s the strongest, and I need to fight him.”
In the next minutes, the sorcerer floods you with information, about the Culling Game mostly, with unnecessary details about Sukuna’s greatness, but general jujutsu knowledge too. He looks completely insane, bleeding through the bandages too now. The liquid smears the ink of the seals, weakening them gradually. Kashimo notices subconsciously, but he’s too busy giving you everything he has. He can still kill you if you were lying to him. He talks fast, out of breath and the blood from his mouth runs down his neck, to his collarbones.
And then, when the last kanji has let up, he lunges forward, throwing you and himself at the wall.
The momentum throws both of you across the room, the impact shuddering the walls and rattling the floor. Dust falls from the ceiling. His hands are around your throat now, and you suck in a sharp breath. A string of curses goes through your head when you notice what caused the trap to fail and hiss both in frustration and pain.
Sharp nails sink into your flesh, and Kashimo’s face gets real close, too close for comfort.
Being choked by a man who has proven himself to be a bloodlusting madman is not ideal.
“Tell me now, boy. Tell me what you know, or I swear—“
“Vessel,” you interrupt him before he finishes the sentence. “His vessel—ngh—became one prior to the game. A s-student,” you manage to say. Your chest rises and falls heavily as you struggle to breathe.
At the words ‘prior to the Culling Game,’ Kashimo tilts his head. It makes sense that despite not being involved with jujutsu, you know more about the current political situation. Kashimo thought Sukuna would come back when every other reincarnation did, not sooner. The events that led to this development must be significant. More importantly, that vessel might be conscious and could make things difficult for him. There would be no glory in fighting some schoolboy, who is potentially capable of suppressing the King of Curses.
“Alright, kid,” Kashimo speaks up, leaning away from you and finally allowing air to enter your lungs again. “I’m keeping you as my pet journaler.”
“Whatever. You will continue doing your little research, and you will help me find that boy. In return, I won’t kill you, and you’ll even have my protection,” he declares and steps away from you. You rub your throat where his hands were squeezing you moments ago. Adrenaline leaves your body, and the pain of being slammed into a wall registers slowly in your back.
Kashimo removes the bloodied textiles from his body one by one, using them to wipe his mouth.
“And you’ll get to experience what you’re writing about up close. That sounds like a hell of a deal, no?”
For a few moments, you hold on to think. Is this the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life? Yes. Do you want to publish a story that will change your career? Also yes.
“Fine. But I have some ground rules.”
Kashimo groans, already regretting his own proposal a bit. Then he thinks about Sukuna again, and whatever conditions you have planned seem small in the grand scheme of things.
He rolls his shoulders and ankles with a gruff but agreeing sound.
As it turns out, Kashimo isn’t that difficult to be around. He’s practical and actually quite smart. Smart enough to know you’re not some random guy who’ll follow him around like a helpless puppy.
Although, he does act like you’re an imbecile. He grabs you by your nearest body part to get you out of the way when there’s danger, he gives you very clear instructions on what to do while he fights and where to go, and, surprisingly, he takes his time to explain jujutsu things to you as he fights. As if it was a fun little teaching opportunity for him.
He likes that your questions make sense and that they’re one step ahead of his explanations. Clearly, you’re keeping up. And you document diligently. That’s the only thing you seem to care about. Not even batting an eye upon entering a colony for the first time, with Kogane declaring you a player.
According to Kashimo, the game would be over sooner than your time to kill runs out, so you don’t need to worry.
Meanwhile, you also ask around, steal camera footage to find that one vessel, which is why you end up camping in one of the Tokyo colonies’ big building blocks.
Kashimo has told you everything at this point. Everything except… that one thing.
A little missing puzzle piece that keeps nagging at you. Kashimo made a deal to incarnate into a modern body to fight Sukuna, the strongest sorcerer, apparently. But why?
With how much respect Kashimo has for the love of the game, you can assume he isn’t a shallow man.
The living room of the apartment is lit by a small lamp and the blue light of your laptop’s screen. There aren’t many areas in the colony where you can charge your device, however, your business partner luckily can use his cursed energy to charge it for you.
Two shadows stretch up to the walls, yours and his.
“Eh, Kashimo-san,” you speak up after many minutes of weird silence. Your head lifts away from the screen that is already making your eyes hurt. “What does Sukuna’s strength mean to you?”
Kashimo meets your eyes with a slightly annoyed frown forming on his face. He clocked the nature of your question instantly. You’re not asking why he needs to meet Sukuna so badly; you’ve heard the short answer to that many times now. He’s so great and strong and blablabla.
The sorcerer was about to make himself comfortable on the improvised futon when your question interrupted him. It is a little annoying how you can catch him off guard in the most inconvenient situations.
“Will you put that in your dumb box?” he asks, gesturing towards your laptop with his chin.
You put your hands up defensively, chuckling quietly.
“Nah, I keep personal things off the record.”
Kashimo huffs and settles down, pulling the covers up to his chin as if he were putting a physical barrier between himself and the uncomfortable topic.
“When you fight someone, you really get to know them.” The reply comes out softer than intended, even with how hard Kashimo is scowling at the ceiling. “You learn how they think, their strengths and weaknesses. You can form a connection.”
For a while, there is silence. You mull over Kashimo’s words and draw a conclusion that is slightly off but maybe not so much… but maybe it is. Who knows?
“Are you… in love with Sukuna or something?”
Kashimo freezes mid-breath, one eyebrow twitching in a way that suggests he’s debating whether to laugh or throttle you on the spot.
“…What kind of question is that?” His voice is low, tight, and laced with a sort of dangerous incredulity. Your ability to surprise him with your audacity drives him up the wall.
“I’ve told you, non-sorcerer. You don’t know me.”
(˶˃𐃷˂˶)all rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications, reposts, or ai feeding. disturbing comments will be deleted. english is not my native language.
