Instead of answering these asks, I will do something more productive.
This? These asks? This is a reason why we need Pride Month. These people who degrade, bully, harass, mock, and insult and threaten death are why we need to stand together. The LGBTQIA+ community needs to stand together. We can’t be fueling these internal conflicts, we can’t continue to compare queerness and we can’t afford to push away the few we have.
Every year, queer people around the world die. Queer people of all backgrounds, all ages, all races, are murdered, kidnapped, raped, and have their existence wiped. Every year, we lose queer people to suicide. Every year. We are targeted and blamed for everything. This doesn’t even scratch the SURFACE of what transgender people (especially trans women of COLOR) go through.
Queer people are forced into silence just to protect themselves from the world around them. Queer people are constantly having their identities debated and ignored, people are shunned and isolated and silenced. We are suffering a mental health CRISIS.
Real fucking people. Real human fucking beings. Real humans suffer at the hands of ignorance, bigotry, and hatred.
It is Pride Month. Hateful people are targeting the LGBTQIA+ community, hoping to silence us. To break us. To bully us into submission. But you must not relent.
You are not alone. You are loved so much more than you’ll ever know. You matter, you deserve to live and to be who you fucking are. You are a real human being deserving of respect and love.
Jim's disregard when it comes to his own life is so important to me.. Jim doing death-defying stunts at the beginning of the movie with nothing more than a smirk at the danger of them. Jim picking fights, knowing he'll get hurt. Jim navigating fragile or dangerous parts of the ship like there's nothing to be careful about.
Jim does not care about his life. That is heavily apparent in the movie. Maybe he isn't actively suicidal, but it's a very passive care (or lack thereof) in him.
Then there's scenes like when the star explodes, where Silver presses Jim between him and the mast to shield him from the attack. And Jim looks so small.
I think it's especially interesting— I was scrubbing through frames of the scene where Silver gives up the treasure to save Jim's life. In that scene, the second that Silver slides down the edge near Jim, Jim looks over and reaches out to him. He reaches first.
Despite showing an ever present disregard for his life throughout the entire movie, despite Silver breaking his heart and trust ten times over all in the scenes leading up to this, Jim doesn't wanna die anymore.
It's his final moment of vulnerability— he reaches out for his dad, and this time he isn't as scared that his father won't be there.
What was wrong with Sandra? (I suspected things weren't going well between S. and her boyfriend, Dario.)
A few months ago, Sandra talked to Liam's Dad. He wanted to see his son more often. Sandra didn't mind. I remember she loved that Liam spends more time with his Dad. Although this man didn't deserve Sandra to be nice to him. Some of you probably remember Liam's Dad. He treated S. like shit! An arrogant prick, that guy! But S said it's about Liam, not her! She knew what it was like growing up without a father. She wanted to do the right thing! But most of all, she wanted to do better than her Mom did back then.
However, Dario, Sandra's boyfriend got jealous, because S. was present at almost every meeting between Liam and his Dad. But she had to, as a responsible Mom/person! She couldn't just blindly trust Liam's Dad. But Dario couldn't really understand this or didn't want to, which is why there have been many arguments between the two recently.
Last night when I was out with Dilek, I called Sandra. I asked, if she wanted to join us? S. just meant, she wasn't feeling well and besides, she was at Philip's at the time. As you know from my last post, I was confused by the fact that Sandra was at P.'s place. Still, I didn't ask why? I didn't want to come across as jealous, yk?
The next day, Philip called me. He told he was babysitting Liam yesterday, while Sandra had something important to do. He asked me to talk to her. He suspected something was wrong.
In short, I called S., she finally told me what had happened some days ago, right after my sons bd-party. You won't believe what this psycho Dario, her bf did!!
As usual, he was at Sandra's. At some point in the evening they started fighting, but the situation calmed down. Sandra was tired. She had no strength to argue, so she withdrew on the couch and eventually fell asleep deeply.
While Sandra was sleeping, Dario decided to do something totally crazy/abnormal. I swear this guy is sick! He grabbed a scissors and cut off Sandra's ponytail, her hair! 😱Sandra didn't even notice. It wasn't until she woke up hours later that she realized her hair was... short! She just screamed! Sandra was shocked! She knew immediately who did this to her.
Now everything made sense. Sandra couldn't ignore it anymore. Her boyfriend was a psychopath. She didn't want anything to do with him anymore, she was also afraid for Liam, so she broke up with him! It was over! At least that's what she thought, but unfortunately, this was just the beginning of..... her end, her last chapter. 😞💔
Sandra didn't want to talk to anyone about it at first. She felt guilty. She was ashamed, because she trusted Dario. They had been together for 2 years. There were one or two red flags that she ignored, or didn't want to believe, but now she couldn't look away anymore.
However, Sandra took Liam to Philip that morning to get her hair fixed at the hairdresser. She couldn't go to her Mom, or come to me, because we would have noticed it right away. but she wanted to prevent that. That's why she went to Philip. P. didn't pay attention to Sandra's hair. She wore a beanie. Nevertheless, he noticed that Sandra was strangely quiet and seemed absent.
ᯓ★ synopsis — the fear of death was unavoidable. to die without giving everything she had, without fulfilling the role fate had assigned her. and yet, amid the relentless pressure and anguish that consumed her life, she discovered peace in the most unexpected place.
ᯓ★ content — 5.2k wc, mentions of blood, sensitive themes, angst. spoilers!! (chapter 236). the artwork used for the cover is not mine. full credit goes to the artist.
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SUMMER, 2006.
The sun shone strong and imposing in the vast blue sky. There were few clouds, and the hot wind blew lazily, swaying the trees heavy with green leaves. People hurried through the streets of Tokyo, absorbed in their own tasks, each trapped in their own world.
No one noticed, at first, the dark clouds beginning to form over the city, gradually obscuring the sunlight.
A female figure appeared before an old abandoned building, a thin line of sweat running down her forehead. She tugged at her uniform collar with mild irritation, muttering something about the fabric being too hot for this season. The cursed tool rested on her shoulders, her head tilted to the side. The building exuded an oppressive aura, saturated with an unpleasant amount of cursed energy.
A tired sigh escaped her lips. Her gaze remained low, giving her an exhausted air. She wondered when was the last time she'd had a decent night's sleep — without worrying about exorcising curses or making her clan proud. In the end, she concluded it had been far too long.
After considering, even if only for a few seconds, the possibility of abandoning everything and living isolated on some distant island, her feet began to move. She crossed the building's threshold, leaving the outside world behind. Medium-grade curses circulated among the concrete walls, watching in silence, making the atmosphere dense and suffocating.
Her eyelids closed for a brief moment and, when they opened again, her irises took on an intense scarlet tone, moving at an abnormal speed through every corner of the space until fixing on the ceiling. She raised her cursed weapon before slicing the curse that leaped toward her. The silver blade cut through the air, scattering purple liquid across the floor.
Cursed energy enveloped the sword with a bluish glow, visible only to those blessed with this gift. Soon, a distant sound echoed through the building — low at first, vibrating through the surrounding structures. Something was dragging itself on the other side. Then, one of the walls cracked. The fissure stretched from one end to the other before giving way completely, exploding in a cloud of dust, followed by a swarm of smaller curses.
For exactly four seconds, everything seemed to slow down. Movements became predictable, multiple trajectories flashing through her mind in rapid succession. When time ran out, her body moved almost by instinct. She leaped between pillars, cutting through the creatures diagonally, causing more of that viscous fluid to gush out.
The curses were numerous but fragile, unable to cause her even a scratch. Her attentive gaze captured every action, even the most subtle. The blade spun between her fingers, passing from one hand to the other, tearing apart everything that approached.
Still, a shiver ran down her spine, followed by a sound distinct from the previous ones. She turned her face toward the noise, her eyes widening before raising her arms to protect her vision from the barrage of fragments and debris coming her way.
She stepped back a few paces, positioning the sword in front of her body as she saw something larger emerge from the dust. Four long, disproportionate limbs projected grotesquely, supporting a thin, gelatinous structure. Two heads hung from the trunk, both covered in countless eyes — all fixed on her. The weak curses had already been exorcised. Only that one remained.
She released the air trapped in her lungs, wiping with her shoulder the viscous residue running down her face.
"You're the big boss? What a headache… making me work so hard on such a hot day."
Once more, the red took over her irises. However, something was wrong. The creature didn't advance immediately. And when it finally moved, it revealed what it held trapped in one of its arms: a girl.
"Help me!" The voice was young, desperate. Small hands clutched in vain at the limb holding her suspended, struggling against the grip around her neck. Legs covered in colorful stockings thrashed in the air, while black hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. "Please!"
Without hesitation, the sorceress dropped her sword on the dusty floor and flexed her arms, tensing her shoulders. If she was right, there was still time to save her. Everything happened too fast. The creature's arm stretched unnaturally, reaching an impossible distance. The girl's scream cut through the air. A spring effect — what goes up must come down. The teenager's body was hurled toward the ground.
Before it hit the ground, the sorceress propelled herself forward. Her feet left the concrete in a precise leap, grabbing the girl mid-air. Both were thrown out of the building, rolling through the grass until the sorceress's back collided with a tree trunk.
"Ugh… damn…" She murmured, releasing the trembling young girl, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. "Hey, run!"
She helped her up and watched as the girl stumbled along the path until she crossed the iron gates of the building, far from danger.
"It's been a while since a curse gave me this much trouble…" A tense smile appeared on her lips, feeling her spine protest. "I'm going to take great pleasure in killing you."
The blood-red continued to take over her irises. She knew she shouldn't overuse her ability, as she was still learning to master it. However, the situation demanded its use. Even if it ended with a terrible headache afterward, that was her job.
The bluish glow imbued in the sword intensified, as vivid as the burning tone in her gaze. Cursed energy spread through the environment, oppressive enough to make the creature step back.
"You feel fear? What a surprise." Her gaze darkened. The heavy aura was swallowed by her imminent fury. "I'll finish this quickly."
She advanced with surprising speed, her hair thrown back with each blow. The blade tore through the creature's skin, opening deep gashes, though not completely piercing through. She tensed her arms against that shapeless mass, while the odor of burnt flesh invaded her nostrils.
The curse roared, trying to push her away with brute attacks. She pulled the sword from its body and dodged each strike. With her free hand, she braced against the ground and propelled herself over the monster, tearing several of the eyes scattered across its grotesque heads. The purplish fluid gushed abundantly, blurring the creature's vision.
She touched the ground shortly after, steadying her feet before launching herself into offense once more. She spun her body and plunged the blade into its back, shattering the misshapen trunk. The curse roared one last time before being split in half, the remains falling to opposite sides.
Her breathing came uneven. Her chest rose and fell as she watched the dark puddle spread beneath the fragments that soon disintegrated into dust. She brought one hand to her forehead as dizziness came, feeling warm blood trickle from her nose.
"Ah… enough for today."
Leaving the site, she raised her eyes to the sky, watching the birds fly distractedly among scattered clouds. She wiped her nose with her uniform sleeve, which — by the way — was covered in dust and something extremely foul-smelling.
"Damn… it was my favorite."
Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. As she grabbed it, she saw a message from Professor Yaga asking how she was. Given the delay in response, he warned that he had sent another sorcerer as backup.
"Am I late?"
The familiar voice sounded behind her. She raised her face and found the white-haired boy in his navy blue uniform.
"Damn, they destroyed you!" Gojo analyzed her from top to bottom, tilting his glasses.
"Stop it." She put away her phone, furrowing her brows. "I was doing just fine without hearing the irritating sound of your voice."
"I don't know why they sent you here alone, knowing you'd end up… like this." He pointed at her clothes. "Ew. What's that terrible smell?" Gojo fanned the air in front of his face, making an exaggerated grimace. "Haven't you taken a shower?"
The young woman just rolled her eyes and raised her middle finger in his direction. "You're unbearable, you know that?"
"You know, when it comes down to it, you're actually pretty strong. I'm impressed." The comment came loaded with sarcasm, considering his colleague's deplorable state.
"I'm still going to surpass you, asshole."
"Admire the ambition." He laughed, shoving his hands into his uniform pockets. "By the way, I can't believe I came all the way here for nothing! I spent all my fare money." He complained quietly, turning his face toward her.
"Very funny."
"I'm serious!" Gojo started walking beside her, moving away from the building, casting one last quick glance at the cracked bricks near the entrance. "Just so you know, if you had one percent of my strength, you would have solved this case in the blink of an eye." He snapped his fingers for emphasis.
"No wonder they call you arrogant."
The chances of her surpassing him were minimal. Actually, almost non-existent. Despite being a talented sorceress, she still hadn't fully mastered her own ability and exhausted herself too quickly when using it. Being honest with herself, none of the students came close to Satoru's level. At most, Suguru — also a special grade sorcerer.
"You know something? Without those eyes, I'd beat you easily."
"That's very bold of you to say." Gojo let out a loud laugh, making her shrink back and cover her ears. "That's almost funny!"
"You doubting me?" She raised an eyebrow, keeping her arms crossed.
"Never." He shrugged. "Then why don't you predict the future?"
"You know that's not how it works."
They reached the bus stop. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of orange, red, and pink. The evening wind blew against their faces as both kept their gaze lost on the horizon.
"You're quiet today." Satoru commented, observing her attentively. "You can talk. I don't bite."
"Why the sudden interest?" She kept her eyes distant, avoiding looking at him.
"I know when something's wrong. Just say it." He insisted.
"Stop bothering me, Satoru." She sighed. "I don't talk nonstop in people's ears, unlike you."
"I'm offended." He brought one hand to his forehead, fluttering his white eyelashes in exaggerated drama. "I care so much about my beloved colleague's well-being, and this is how I'm treated." An amused smile appeared on his lips. But, as expected, it provoked no reaction from her.
The sorceress lowered her head, strands of hair falling over her forehead as she stared at her worn-out shoes. Even hearing Satoru's voice, her mind began to drift, wandering to a place increasingly distant from there.
He was exceptional. One of the most talented students, though impulsive. His strength and technique were on another level. Many times, she felt insufficient by his side, like dead weight. She knew comparing herself to him wasn't fair, but under so much pressure, how could she not? Her parents. Her family.
They all desired a successful lineage of jujutsu sorcerers — something that would honor the Kurenai name, consolidate their history, and elevate their prestige. A clan that craved domination.
Receiving that ability was, simultaneously, a blessing and a curse. The weight on her shoulders became almost unbearable. No matter how hard she tried: they would never be the Six Eyes that Gojo carried. He could sustain them for much longer. Unlike her, so weak in her own family's eyes.
She remembered the humiliating sensation of falling face-first on the tatami. The constant nausea and dizziness caused by overusing her ocular ability. Her body lay motionless on the cold wood, her blurred vision barely distinguishing the figures present in that room.
"Is that the leader's daughter?"
"Pathetic."
"They said she was special."
"What a waste of time."
In the beginning, sustaining her ability was very difficult. The high consumption of cursed energy, added to the excess of stimuli, left her senses momentarily disoriented. Even being an above-average fighter and mastering the flow of her own energy well, she needed time to adapt to that newly awakened technique.
It was unprecedented in the Kurenai Clan — the first to manifest it. With this, responsibilities grew, as did the silent expectations surrounding her. From then on, her days became marked by constant fatigue, accompanied by persistent discouragement. Her rare moments of tranquility were restricted to the dormitory, isolated in her room, where she could afford the luxury of silence.
"Hey, our bus is here."
Gojo's voice brought her back, accompanied by a light touch on her shoulder. Yes, there was an exception to that rare peace. By his side, her concept of tranquility became distorted. He was talkative, extroverted. The complete opposite of her. And, for some reason difficult to explain, his presence made everything lighter.
The bus approached with a metallic screech, hot air escaping through the opening doors. They boarded together, mingling with the flow of tired late-afternoon passengers. The smell of fuel and old fabric permeated the interior, while the floor vibrated under hurried steps.
She took some bills from her pocket and paid for both fares before he could complain. They walked to the back, dodging backpacks and outstretched legs, until they found two empty seats. She sat by the window, resting her head against the cold glass as the vehicle began moving again with a gentle jolt.
"You owe me one." She crossed her arms, watching the outside scenery slide slowly by.
Low buildings gave way to narrower streets, streetlights turning on one by one. The constant movement had an almost hypnotic effect, cradling her thoughts as wind entered through the open windows, bringing the familiar smell of the city.
Beside her, she heard Gojo laugh softly and rub the back of his neck. "Alright… fair enough."
The ride continued, for the first time, in silence. Satoru cast occasional glances at his colleague, observing her profile reflected in the window glass. She seemed immersed in her own thoughts, quieter than usual. He knew how to recognize when something wasn't right, even without wanting to face this side of her. Their lives were already complicated enough to carry extra worries. Despite this, it was impossible not to wonder what occupied her mind.
When they got off, Gojo went ahead, hands shoved in his uniform pockets as he climbed the entrance steps. The sorceress remained still for a few moments. The wind blew against her face, making strands of hair dance as she stared at the imposing structure of Jujutsu High.
There were so many doubts. So many insecurities compressed in her chest. When the moment came to face something greater than herself, what would she do? It was almost ironic. She was afraid to die.
For a jujutsu sorcerer, that fear seemed contradictory. After all, what sense was there in accepting a job that constantly flirted with death? Wouldn't it be more logical to stay home, embraced by a common routine? Perhaps it would. However, she never had a choice. Raised under rigid rules, she had learned from an early age that her existence served a single purpose. Everything beyond that was irrelevant. At least, that's what she was supposed to believe.
Satoru noticed his colleague wasn't following him and turned to face her, furrowing his brows. He thought about cracking some joke, maybe commenting on how strange she was that afternoon, but gave up. He didn't want to make things worse. He approached slowly, maintaining a respectful distance. He lowered his dark glasses, revealing the oceanic eyes that analyzed her attentively, as if awaiting a response.
"So? Are you going to tell me what's gotten into you today?" he asked, serious, without any trace of his usual jokes.
She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face marked by dark circles. She knew Satoru wouldn't leave her alone so soon. There was no use resisting.
"I'm worried."
"I'm all ears."
That was bizarre and surprising at the same time. Seeing Gojo so focused and "well-behaved" seemed wrong. Moments like this were rare, almost as unlikely as an eclipse. They happened little and when they did, they marked those who witnessed them.
"It's nothing serious," she said, crouching down to sit on the curb. She adjusted her loose uniform pants, folding her legs. "I'm just tired, I guess."
Her head fell forward, rebellious strands of hair partially covering her exhausted face. "Sometimes, I'm afraid I won't accomplish everything I want before I leave. I don't want to go to the grave full of regrets."
He listened in silence. His eyes softened as she spoke. Gojo wasn't good at comforting people, but if she had decided to share something so personal, it deserved respect. She never talked about herself. He knew so little of that part of her life. The Kurenai clan was known, yes — distant from the weight and influence that the Gojo name carried.
However, he felt a strange satisfaction upon realizing she trusted him enough to show that vulnerability she offered no one else. Shortening the distance, he sat beside her, resting his arms on his own knees.
"I think I understand the feeling," he murmured, his voice low as if the words might get lost in the air.
Satoru raised his face to the sky. The last rays of sun, once vibrant, now dragged over the mountains. The cool evening wind messed with his silver strands, and he let it, in no hurry to brush them from his face.
"I thought you didn't have that kind of fear."
Her eyes traced his profile. The straight nose, the slightly parted lips, his attention fixed on the slow movement of the clouds. Gojo didn't respond immediately. Actually, he had never stopped to think about death concretely. About what it meant to him. He had always been strong. Why would he worry so much?
"Are you Satoru Gojo because you're strong… or are you strong because you're Satoru Gojo?"
He knew the answer. Yet, the question hung in the air like the dry leaves the wind lifted. His expression remained serious, almost impenetrable, something rare on a face so accustomed to smiles.
Suddenly the wind blew strongly, raising goosebumps on his skin, bringing a cold that came from somewhere beyond the falling night. The sky darkened quickly, swallowing the last traces of light. And then came the first drops of summer rain. One ran down his forehead, another wet her eyelashes.
"I know it sounds ridiculous…" her voice broke through the sound of the downpour. "But after everything… I can't stop thinking about it." She remained motionless, feeling the water run down her face, mingling with whatever she held inside her.
He knew what she was talking about.
The incident involving the Star Plasma Vessel.
Like Suguru Geto, she too had been deeply shaken. She spent sleepless nights, carrying the weight of what happened through the mornings. It wasn't as if the girl had held great personal importance in her life. Nevertheless, she felt guilty.
For someone born blessed with the so-called "gift of the future," almost nothing usually caught her off guard. In combat, she anticipated movements easily; she read the field before her, visualizing possible attacks, routes, and actions directed at herself. However, like anyone, she had limits. Forcing her ability to see so many future branches in such a short interval had taken a high toll. The exhaustion was inevitable.
She remembered seeing Satoru Gojo's blood spreading across the floor. The desperate sensation of watching him fall. The Sorcerer Killer's blade piercing his chest, breaking not only flesh but any illusion of control she thought she had. The panic she felt that day was still fresh in her memory, tormenting her nights.
The assassin was unpredictable. That "nobody" was capable of crossing all of the sorceress's barriers. The arrogant smile on his face, the sword dripping the crimson red of her blood, so similar to her cursed, failing eyes. When finishing the job, he simply turned his back and went on his way, leaving her behind as if she were nothing. Just another opponent.
She clenched her fists and closed her eyes, grinding her teeth as she repressed a groan of pain. She coughed out mouthfuls of blood, feeling the excruciating pain spread through her weakened body. She tried to support herself on her arms — in vain. She fell face-first against the cold floor, staining her skin and hands with her own fluids. The tears came, painful, bringing once again the bitter taste of defeat; the cruel realization of being a failure.
The scars from that fight became a shame for her and her family, an irreparable stain on her already precarious reputation. She could barely face her own reflection, avoiding the mirror for some time. She started wearing a uniform that completely covered her body, hiding every mark of her mistakes. Little by little, she lost confidence in herself. Her predictions had always been accurate; no one escaped her calculations. However, she didn't accept defeat even when she felt her life threatening to slip away, darkening the eyes that once shone so brightly.
When she learned of Riko Amanai's death, her world crumbled. It was as if luck had abandoned her. Her existence, her function, her usefulness — everything seemed empty. What was she for? As the clan's successor, how could she accumulate so many failures? What future was left for her?
Without thinking, tears flowed freely. Her chest heavy, tired of holding so much grief. The water soaked their motionless bodies under the storm. Neither Gojo nor she seemed to care.
"Thinking too much about this is a waste of time. After all, we're all going to die one day," he said, turning his face to look at her. His clear eyes carried a melancholy never seen before, something akin to compassion. "Achieve what you desire before that day comes. Don't you dare die with that burden."
His serious expression soon softened, giving way to a small, reassuring smile. "Like I said before, you're strong. That's not a lie," he murmured, laughing softly. "Try not to hold onto what happened. Just… look forward. That's how things are."
"Yeah…" She dried her tears, leaning her body back, letting the water droplets run over her skin. Her body felt light, as if the rain could wash away her guilt. "For the first time, you said something sensible, Satoru."
"I can surprise you sometimes, can't I?" His voice broke through the sound of the rain, low, almost a whisper. She felt the gentle touch of his fingers on her forehead, carefully pushing away some strands of stuck hair. For an instant, his fingertips lingered there, on her temple, before withdrawing his hand and resting it back on the wet ground.
"Maybe." The answer came in a drawn-out whisper. She let a long sigh escape her lungs, feeling her chest expand and empty at a slow rhythm. Her eyes closed slowly. At that moment, nothing else existed but the smell of wet earth, the damp freshness on her skin, and the melody of the falling water.
(...)
In the training hall, the wooden floor was cold under her bare feet. Each plank was a rough surface that marked her skin with every change of position, a familiar discomfort she no longer even thought about avoiding. The air weighed heavy in her lungs, dense, impregnated with the sweet scent of incense mixed with the sweat on her face.
"Concentrate."
She was small. Too small to hold that sword with the firmness they demanded. The hilt was too wide for her hands. The weight of the blade pulled her body down, making her fingers throb from the effort of not letting go.
Her eyes burned, kept open for a long time as she tried to keep up with everything that unfolded before her. Possibilities, futures — all overlapping, scrambling within her mind.
"Again."
The impact came without warning. The shock traveled up her arms, reverberated in her bones, reaching her tense shoulders. Voices accumulated, suffocating, echoing from all sides.
"You need to be better."
"Don't fail."
Her body trembled, her arms numb, almost useless, hanging at her sides. Still, her fingers found the sword's hilt again.
Always one more time.
Always beyond the limit.
Then, the scene changed.
Laughter.
The afternoon sun filtered through the tree leaves, projecting golden lights that danced on the cement ground, warm against her skin. A can of warm soda was shared among the students, passing from hand to hand, ignoring any notion of hygiene.
Satoru complained about something trivial, gesturing exaggeratedly as he rested one arm on the back of the bench, keeping his legs crossed while he spoke.
Suguru just rolled his eyes, displaying a contained smile at the corner of his lips. He didn't pay much attention to his friend's chatter, just returning the soda before leaning back on the bench and murmuring something about him being more annoying that day to the colleague sitting between them.
Shoko watched everything from a distance, leaning against a tree trunk. Her distracted gaze wandered over her friends and then to the sky, a forgotten cigarette between her fingers; the smoke rose slowly, dissolving in the air.
Near them, her heart filled with a pleasant warmth. A feeling whose name was unknown to her own lips, but that others — those on the outside — would certainly know how to describe better. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that her gray days found color in the presence of her companions.
The carefree laughter, the aimless walks, the side conversations, the clicks of countless photos. All those moments when they could just be ordinary people brought a sense of unusual, yet welcome, normality. The certainty that they were still human, with wills and desires, not just tools of a system greater than themselves.
(...)
SHINJUKU, 2018.
White.
An empty space, a canvas that stretched beyond what her eyes could reach. The silence was absolute, where neither her voice nor her steps could echo. The ground beneath her feet was firm, a solid surface covered by a thin layer of water that spread in small ripples with each step she dared to take.
Suddenly, a blinding light took over her vision, making her raise her arms to cover her face. The former stillness was replaced by a vibrant symphony. She heard the cheerful singing of birds, followed by the whisper of leaves swaying in the wind.
The white environment dissolved, giving way to a lush, humid landscape. The crystal-clear waters of the stream now rose to cover her waist. Small colorful fish swam around her legs, curious.
Further ahead, following the stone paths surrounded by dense vegetation, she spotted a school. The ancient architecture emerged among the trees like an old memory, bringing a feeling of nostalgia that filled her heart with sweet melancholy.
Moving her legs, which now felt heavy as lead, she left the water, feeling every drop run down her skin. Her bare feet touched the soft, damp grass, the small blades tickling her soles as earth stuck between her toes. The gentle breeze kissed her face, pushing away her damp hair as she walked toward the imposing building.
She climbed the stairs slowly, hearing the characteristic creak of wood under her weight. The sound echoed familiar in her ears, awakening ghosts of a bittersweet past. Her eyes wandered around, absorbing every detail, when she found someone.
"Hey!"
She immediately recognized the tall, slender figure before her. Her heart seemed to stop for an instant. She would never forget that pair of ocean-blue eyes, nor that radiant smile that illuminated her soul.
A solitary tear escaped, tracing a slow path down her face. She brought trembling fingers to her cheek, her parted lips moving in a vain attempt to find words.
"Satoru?" Her voice came out as a whisper, almost inaudible, mixed with the knot that had formed in her throat.
"The one and only." He tilted his head in such a characteristic gesture that it caused another pang in her chest, running his hands over the back of his neck with that carefree air of his. "Thought you'd take longer to show up. Tough luck."
"I wasn't very lucky this time," she murmured. "And, from the looks of it, neither were you."
"It happens. Better than dying of old age or from some disease, don't you think?" He shrugged, letting out a weak laugh.
"Maybe." She straightened her posture, her gaze sweeping every corner of that familiar space once more before turning to the boy before her. "That's so like you, leaving like that."
"Funny, the others said the same thing." He gave a crooked smile, laden with an irony that seemed to try to disguise the weight of his words.
"Others?"
It was then that she realized. Her attention shifted for an instant, capturing details that had gone unnoticed. The uniform from her high school days covered her skin, the familiar weight of the pleated skirt, the worn buttons of the blazer. She brought a hand to her hair and felt it shorter, unruly, escaping in disordered waves around her face, just like back then.
Behind Satoru, the hallway stretched bathed in warm light coming through the tall windows. And then she saw them. Geto and Nanami talking, their silhouettes outlined against the brightness, with Haibara beside them, gesturing animatedly as he used to, a wide smile illuminating his young features.
Near them, almost hidden in the shadows of a wall niche, Director Yaga watched everything, sitting on a stone bench, crafting a panda doll.
The young woman passed trembling hands over her face, feeling her skin damp with dried tears, and took a deep breath. The pure air entered her lungs laden with familiar smells: chalk dust, waxed wood, the sweet perfume of flowers.
She was home.
She closed her eyes tightly, her eyelids trembling, allowing recent memories to flood in. She had done what she could to keep fighting, to protect the new generation of sorcerers, exactly as they had aspired so many years ago. A way to redeem herself for past mistakes, an attempt to stitch wounds that had never fully healed.
It was a shame it had ended like this. However, she carried no regret. All that remained was to root for those who stayed behind — the young ones who still had a path ahead — and allow herself to rest. The rest she had never granted herself in life.
Her eyes opened and met his again. After so long separated by life's adversities, by paths that forked and lost sight of each other, they could finally have their moment together.
"I missed you." The words escaped before she could contain them, a secret shared only between them.
For the first time in decades, she saw tears threatening to form in his eyes. Those eyes that always hid everything behind layers of jokes and indifference now shone, vulnerable, fearful.
My dog just died this morning, in my room. I still am not coming to real terms with this so I will sound hysterical and out of it
I went to my room to check on him this morning and found him dead, cold, still, and lifeless on my bed. I touched him thinking he was sleeping with his eyes open again. Now, the image is stuck in my head and wouldn't leave all day
When I touch my other pets I feel his cold lifeless body. When I let my mind think for even a second it shows me the same memory, of his dead body just laying there. It won't go away so I have barely been able to do anything
I haven't slept in 29 hours and just ate for the first time in over 24 hours. So I will not be fully there if I talk to anyone, and I apologize
He's buried in the yard now, I don't know when he died but when I found him it was around 7:20 am. It's now past 11:20 pm.
I've been going through severe mood swings, breakdowns, panic attacks and episodes all day long so I am very unstable right now
I don't want to talk much about it here, I just wanted to get this explanation out
