Kashimo x journalist!reader (˶˃𐃷˂˶) p2 | p1 cw: physical restraint I guess?? banter, non-sorcerer!reader, male!reader
You are a slightly unhinged person. Kashimo should’ve known after the first encounter with you. Are civilians supposed to be this cool about violence and danger?
Nope.
Kashimo watched from the distance as you oh so obliviously walked into a trap that was set up by some low-ranking, likely new sorcerer for the sole purpose of earning points without doing much. No matter how smart you are, how confident, you still lack the simple ability to actually see cursed things. So the rope around your feet snapped and you were yanked upside-down into the air by your ankles. Still, you didn’t panic all too much. You must be slightly masochistic or some kind of thrill-seeking weirdo. That part, Kashimo can respect.
“I told you not to wander off,” he grumbles after your swaying in the air slowly comes to a halt. He’s taking his time catching up to you in the dark tunnel. Both ends are halfway obstructed by abandoned cars and broken cement blocks, so no one needs to worry about oncoming vehicles at least. However, the shutting down of the route also means there are no lights lit to show the way.
Kashimo’s footsteps echo against the concrete, unhurried, deliberate. The faint crackle of cursed energy hums around him, lighting up his surroundings with tiny sparkles.
“I’ve never been trapped like this before. This will really give me insight on how to write about sorcerers’ nature in a way that the population understands.”
“You won’t be writing anything if you walk into the wrong snare. You’re lucky this is a half-baked one,” Kashimo responds, momentarily irritated with your attitude. He’s lucky too because if you’re gone, it’ll take him far longer to achieve his goals. What a hassle.
“Tch,” Kashimo clicks his tongue. He doesn’t bother holding onto you while undoing the rope around your feet. The curse on them should burn at his skin but he has his own cursed energy to counter with.
Contact with it makes you flinch and squeal, the electricity slightly painful and making your affected muscles twitch involuntarily.
“Hold still,” Kashimo mutters, though he makes no real effort to be gentle, his knee even bumps into your nose. Another pulse of his cursed energy snaps through the rope, and this time it gives with a sharp crack. The tension releases all at once.
You drop.
There’s a split second where gravity remembers you exist again and then you hit the ground with a very undignified thud, air punching out of your lungs.
“…Ow,” you wheeze into the dusty concrete. The small bumps are sharp, scratching at the thin skin of your knuckles.
“You didn’t even try to brace yourself,” Kashimo states flatly.
“I couldn’t see the ground,” you shoot back, rolling onto your back and blinking up at the man. “Kind of a key disadvantage.”
Despite not being able to see much, Kashimo is slightly thrown off by your faint silhouette under him and he quickly looks away, crossing his arms around his nyoi staff.
You must be grinning to yourself, judging by the lightness in your tone.
“Get up.”
You don’t. Instead, you stay there for a moment longer than necessary, staring up at the vague outline of Kashimo like you’re studying a specimen. It makes him want to wipe the suspected smile off your face, by smacking you with the end of his weapon, or maybe zapping the underside of your foot this time.
“What? Did you just imagine ways to get rid of me?” you ask with a hint of a challenge in your voice. You just love poking the bear, don’t you?
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You—”
A hand shoots down and grabs your collar, hauling you upright in one quick motion before you can finish that sentence. Your teeth click together audibly. “There,” Kashimo says flatly. “Now you’re standing. Conversation over.”
The tunnel doesn’t get less dark. If anything, it feels like it’s closing in. Kashimo keeps walking like he actually has night vision instead of the half-spent cursed sparks he’s using as a flashlight. You, on the other hand, are one step away from becoming intimately acquainted with every uneven crack in the concrete. You can’t see cursed energy and since Kashimo’s electric powers are made of cursed energy…
“Wait—” you start, and immediately collide with something solid.
“Don’t stop walking,” Kashimo says with a slightly bored tone.
“I literally can’t see where I’m—”
“How do non-sorcerers even survive on their own?”
Another step. Another impact. Your forehead meets his upper arm this time. Walking closer to Kashimo would allow you to orient yourself but that would also mean you’re… well, closer to Kashimo. Which is A), potentially harmful to your health and B), annoying to the sorcerer.
The outline of his distinctive hairstyle, the long spikes of grey hair, in the shadows anyway, are barely visible, darkness swallowing everything. He’s creepier and more intimidating in this setting but you figure that’s just part of the experience.
Maybe you could write a whole book about your journey. Eh, that’s way too ambitious. You’re not Frodo fucking Baggings. Besides, you want some parts of this adventure to belong only to you. And him.
You stare for too long… and there you have it. Another clumsy attempt at not falling into Kashimo’s back. This time, it’s Kashimo’s fault too, you realize, he has stopped suddenly.
You almost walk straight into him again, but this time he catches you by the front of your jacket before you can fully commit to it.
“…What?” you ask. Kashimo stares down at you silently for a moment, biting his lower lip thoughtfully. Not that you can see any of that.
“Hold my sleeve,” he says finally.
You blink. “Like, grab your sleeve?”
“Yes.”
“Is that safe?”
“For me or you?”
“Well…”
There’s a pause where you consider arguing, but your pride is currently losing a fight against your inability to see literally anything more than two inches in front of your face.
So you do it.
But of course, first you try holding something around his wrist, forgetting that Kashimo’s loose robe starts somewhere near his elbow, the lower part of his arm being covered in bandages, for whatever reason. Must be an ancient ninja slash samurai slash warrior thing. His hand flinches the moment your fingers try to close and he smacks your own hand sharply.
“Not there, brat. Don’t make it weird.”
“Jeez, sorry,” you pout quietly, quickly finding the desired loose material that hangs nearby. You hook onto it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “It wasn’t even weird before you said something.”
“Just… forward. Go forward.” Kashimo starts walking again without waiting for a response. And immediately, you almost die. Just because you assume “forward” and he assumes “forward” are the same forward. They are not.
Your shoulder collides with his front with a dull thunk. Kashimo is unfortubately built like a wall of cement. You’re going to have blue and purple bruises blooming all over your upper body at this rate.
“Tch.” He doesn’t even turn away, expecting you to get out of his way. Which you do, quickly. “Pay attention.”
“I can’t see!”
“You’re not supposed to see. You’re supposed to follow.”
“That’s not how walking in the darkness works,” you mutter, still clinging to his sleeve. It’s all you can do without your sight. It just feels unnatural to walk confidently when you can’t see anything, even if the road is supposed to be clear of obstacles.
Silence falls onto the long space, save for occasional drips of water from torn up cables hanging down in some corners.
Kashimo keeps walking, but his pace shifts, barely. It’s not something you’d notice if you weren’t practically glued to his sleeve, but the steps stop being purely efficient. They start accounting for you. Still, he doesn’t say anything about it.
“…Clumsy.”
“I prefer ‘environmentally challenged,’” you mumble back, blinking into nothing. This close, you can finally focus on irrelevant things, like how Kashimo’s muscles shift under his sleeve. “Are you nervous?”
The question slips out before you can decide whether it’s smart or not.
Kashimo has to inhale and exhale deeply once, then twice, before replying with an unexpectedly honest tone.
“Just used to doing things on my own.”
There’s another beat of silence after his answer. Kashimo is really glad in that moment that you can’t see his face. Still, he can see yours and the hint of a sympathetic frown irks him. It’s not only that he has a partner now, it’s that the partner happens to be someone he considers weak.
In Kashimo’s mind, it should be impossible for him to enjoy the company of a weakling.
“Don’t make that face.”
“I’m not making any face,” you answer immediately. You tug on his sleeve like it’s a lifeline, fingers curled around the fabric with far more trust than he thinks is reasonable.
“You are.”
“…What kind of face is it?”
That earns you nothing but silence at first. Then a faint shift of his weight, the subtle sound of his staff adjusting against his shoulder. He doesn’t look back at you when he answers.
“You’re pitying me.”
“Nah… I just… whatever is going on here, with you and…the game and Sukuna… I don’t like it. I’m getting a bad vibe.”
You’re too observant for your own good. Kashimo’s stomach clenches just a bit. He already died once and your random statements make him feel little deaths all over again. He won’t let that affect his endgame, he decides.
“Good,” Kashimo replies finally, smirking to himself. “Always expect the worst.”
A few more steps pass in silence. Kashimo knows you’re trying to put the story together. The one you will publish or the one around Kashimo. The latter makes him slightly uncomfortable but he won’t show that. He’s way too cool to be bothered by being the csnter of your attention.
“Hey.”
Kashimo exhales sharply through his nose, bracing for whatever you want to say now. “What.”
“You didn’t let me die back there.”
“That was not a life-threatening situation.”
“I was upside down.”
“You were fine.”
“There could’ve been spikes.”
“There weren’t.”
You hum, unconvinced. Your fingers tighten slightly in the fabric of his sleeve, knuckles brushing against his arm with each step. He can feel it, your presence, your balance adjusting to his pace, your weight subtly pulling whenever you misstep.
“…Still,” you say after a moment, quieter this time, “thanks.”
Kashimo should brush it off. Say something cutting. Dismiss it like everything else.
”I’ll put it on your tab.”
(˶˃𐃷˂˶)all rights reserved. no translations, plagiarism, modifications, reposts, or ai feeding. disturbing comments will be deleted. english is not my native language.
@gaynestormakhno hope you likeee
